Page 73 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

But my child and his mother? It’s a bridge too far.

“I’ll kill him,” I say, uttering the words under my breath. An oath to myself.

Gennady’s hand claps on my shoulder. “And I’ll help. But for now, we should go.”

“I know,” I agree. “The house is empty, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe. I’ll get Arya.”

I take the stairs two at a time and find Arya standing in the hallway, staring into the bathroom, her arms hanging limply at her side.

“We should go.”

She jumps at the sound of my voice. I see that familiar mask slam down over her features. I caught her in a private, vulnerable moment. A moment she should be able to share with me.

But she won’t. Can’t. Refuses to let me in.

If it was up to her, she and Lukas would probably be on a plane already. Headed to a new life, far from me and the shit I bring to the table. Instead, she’s searching an empty house for our infant son, wondering if she’ll ever see him again.

“We’re going to find him,” I say softly. “Ilyasov won’t hurt him.”

Her jaw tightens like she wants to say something. But then just she brushes past me and down the stairs.

Gennady unlocks the front door and opens it, ushering Arya out. “Let’s get the fuck out of here before the police show up.”

The street is quiet. Just a series of row houses, cars parked all along the curb in front of us. Gennady parked the car around the corner, so I’m moving that way when Arya stops and grabs my wrist, pulling me back.

“We have to go,” I insist, pulling her forward.

“Stop,” she says. There’s something in the tone of her voice that catches my attention.

She’s staring at a black car in front of us. It’s not noteworthy in anyway—except the tinted window is partially rolled down…

And someone is sitting inside.

It’s dark and the streetlight is positioned in a way where it’s casting more shadow in the car than light, so I can’t see who it is.

I pull Arya behind me and reach for the gun on my hip. “Wait here.”

“Dima…” She doesn’t try to stop me or warn me. Just says my name.

I move slowly to the car. What could it be? Another trap? Another taunt? A car bomb?

I stop suddenly, remembering the car bomb that first sent me running all those months ago. The one that put me on a collision course with Arya I never could’ve seen coming.

It seems unlike Ilyasov to recycle plans, but it’s also a real possibility. I have to be careful.

I edge towards the car slowly, squinting as I try to see through the crack in the window. The car isn’t running, but I can hear the sound of a late night radio DJ talking through the speakers.

“Hello?”

No one answers. I’m hesitant to touch the handle.

I stretch onto my toes and peek through the crack. That’s when I see a person slumped over in the passenger seat.

A woman.

A woman I recognize.

“Ernestine?”

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