Page 152 of Immaculate Deception (Romanoff Bratva)

“She isn’t my—” I cut myself off. I don’t know what Arya is to me. But I know she’s precious enough that I’ll do anything to keep her safe. Even if it means making her despise me forever. “She’s safe down there and that’s what matters. Now, let’s go.”

Gennady leans towards the basement door, ear cocked. “I don’t hear any screaming.”

“Soundproof. Even if someone happens to break in while we’re gone, they’ll never hear her. And if they do happen to go down there, the only way in is with my key.”

The thought of Arya screaming downstairs fills me with furious guilt again, but I shove it aside.

I don’t have time for that right now. I’ll deal with Arya later.

After this is over.

I drop the key to the door in the safe under the kitchen island and then grab my car keys. “Let’s go.”

Gennady grabs his stuff and follows me into the garage. Arya’s car is recognizable to Zotov and the Albanians by now, so even though it’s less conspicuous, we leave it behind in favor of a black, bulletproof sedan with interchangeable plates. My father kept a whole armada of them in the safehouse for this exact kind of situation.

One of the last smart things he ever did.

“You’re sure your info is good?” I ask as we pull out of the garage. I check the rearview mirror to be sure the door closes and the house is locked down.

“Positive. The Butcher’s staying in a four-story modern monstrosity on East 48th. Architecturally, I think it's a visual disaster, but it’s certainly pricey enough to scratch the man’s ego.”

“You sure it’s not a trap?” I ask, ignoring his jokes.

“As sure as we can be. God knows I tortured his bodyguard for long enough to make sure he knew what he was talking about.”

I nod, satisfied with that.

It’s as good as it’s going to get.

After months of agonizing hunting and waiting for this bastard to pop his head above ground, the fact that he’s right around the corner makes me fucking sick.

But in any case, it should be simple. Get in, pull the trigger, get the fuck out.

And once it’s done, I’ll be one step closer to controlling my brother’s army.

One step closer to getting Lukas back.

One step closer to Zotov.

Arya appears in my mind. The look of betrayal on her face as I closed the door cut deep.

This is for her own good, though. She’ll thank me one day.

* * *

We pull up around the corner from the location and get out of the car. The house looms over the block. Modern stone and glass with balconies jutting out over the sidewalk below and a rooftop garden with string lights on top.

The roads are quiet. We’re the only people out tonight.

“There it is,” I growl under my breath. “The beginning of the end.”

“What’s the plan?” Gennady whispers, shoving his hands in his pocket as we walk.

“We get inside, take him out, and leave.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it will be. It’s one guy. We can handle this with or without the Bratva behind us.”

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