Page 72 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

“I’m loving the enthusiasm there, Arya,” I deadpan. “But next time, ask me before you do anything stupid.”

Arya turns to me. “I’m the one who got us inside. I think what you meant to say is,Thank you.”

Gennady boosts her through the window. He crawls in after her. I’m the last one inside.

The house is a rental, outfitted with bland furniture and dollar store paintings. It gives off a dentist’s office vibe. But according to Gennady, it’s where Ilyasov was last traced.

“It doesn’t exactly look like a mafia headquarters,” Gennady whispers. “Maybe I got it wrong.”

I walk to the coffee table and pick up the frame sitting in the center of it. “No,” I sigh, “you didn’t.” Arya and Gennady turn to me as I hold up the photo.

It’s Lukas.

Arya runs towards it and plucks the frame out of my hands as if it’s our actual son, not just a photograph. For a moment, I see the pain just under the surface.

But then she hides it away again.

“What does this mean?” she demands.

“Fuck if I know. But they were here.” I take the frame back from her and study it, looking for a camera or a microphone. Anything Ilyasov might have hidden in it.

Then I notice the small piece of paper sticking out of the frame backing. I pop the frame open and a square of paper floats to the floor.

Arya lunges for it. “‘Trial One’?” she reads. “What’s that? Is that an address?”

“The Romanoff Trials have begun.” Gennady sits down on the couch and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Goddammit. The fucker isn’t here. Maybe he never was.”

Arya is looking back and forth from me to Gennady. “Okay, but what in the hell is ‘Trial One’? Anyone care to fill me in?”

“It’s the first stage in the Romanoff Trials,” I explain. “A task between the two men vying to be don. The challenge is to eliminate another mafia boss.”

“For fuck’s sake! Are you going to have to kill every mafioso in town?” Arya cries. “We don’t have time for this shit!”

“She’s right,” Gennady says. “You’ve already killed Giorgio D’Onofrio.”

“Jorik, too.”

Gennady claps his hands once. “Great. Then we’re done with number one. Let’s get out of here and figure out what number two is.”

“No!” Arya backs towards the door. Her face is white and her lips are pressed together into a straight line. “No, we can’t leave yet. We haven’t even looked. Lukas could still be here.”

She spins around and rushes down the hallway. Part of me thinks I should follow her. Make sure she’s safe. But deep down, I know Gennady is right. No one is here. The house is empty.

I slam the picture down on the coffee table. The glass shatters. Pieces of the frame splinter and fall to the floor.

And a small plastic piece with a red light falls, too. I pick it up and hold it out to Gennady, but I already know what it is.

“The tracker,” he confirms.

Ilyasov lured us here. Because he’s a showman above all. He couldn’t just leave behind the family Bratva when I was made don over him. Who knows how long he’s been planning this shit? It’s intricate. Orchestrated. He’s got a ten-year head start on his vengeance.

I can hear Arya moving around upstairs, searching every single room, opening every single cabinet.

Ilyasov couldn’t just go after me, either. He had to go after my family.

Arya didn’t ask for this. For any of it. But that doesn’t matter to a man like him. Ilyasov wants to destroy me. That means destroying her, too.

It makes my blood curdle. He can fuck with me all he wants. I’m fair game.

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