Page 82 of Of Murder and Matrimony

I would not be a victim of my circumstance. I began plotting my escape.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Cosimo leaned against the metal table in his dungeon, legs and arms crossed, his head tipped thoughtfully to the side, the action less menacing than his usual stare.

“What?” I asked, tired of his statue-like assessment.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked, his leather jacket creaking as he moved. “There’s still time to find a different approach.”

“Since when did you turn chicken shit?” My jaw dropped as I watched him shrug. “I’m not backing out of this. Adrik will suffer until I get Olesya back.”

“He didn’t react to the gifts you sent him,” he pointed out, referring to the five men we sent back with their hearts tied around their necks. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

“We have contingencies to get the women out, right?”

He nodded. “Of course. We’ll take out the video feed, then grab the guards. It shouldn’t be difficult to convince a bunch of women and Johns to move their asses before they’re burned alive.”

“Then what else is there to discuss?” I popped my knuckles impatiently and placed my palm on my gun. Its presence at my hip was reassuring, though it was a last resort. Right now, I wanted to tear men limb from limb with my bare hands.

Cosimo kicked the heel of his black combat boot against the cement floor. “How far does this all go?”

“As far as it takes to get my wife back and make the men responsible for taking her pay,” I answered without hesitation. “If you’ll recall, the Bratva started this war. I asked for a truce—tried to force it with my marriage. Their answer was to kill my men and steal my wife. My wife!”

The words melted into the sound paneling lining the walls, preventing my rage from filtering into the hall outside the room. I raked my fingers through my hair, knocking the black mask from my head to the floor. I bent and swiped it up, tugging it back over my head but leaving my face uncovered.

“If you’re having second thoughts, feel free to stay here,” I spat, turning toward the door. “I can torch the place on my own.”

Cosimo’s footsteps thundered behind me as I swung the door open, and he slipped through before it closed. “Fuck if I’m going to miss this shit. Let’s go.”

I stalked down the hall and up the steps, meeting my men by the back door of Deception. The bass from the club’s music pounded in my chest, my heart beating in savage time as I stepped out into the warm night air.

Stefano and Filippo took the front seats while Cosimo and I climbed into the back of the SUV. More men would meet us at our destination, already positioned in the neighborhood.

It was after one in the morning, and the city was as asleep as it would ever be on a Thursday. It had been nearly a week since I’d seen or spoken to Olesya. Adrik, the prick, wouldn’t even give me proof of life. The asshole had laughed at my request.

So I was moving from his men to his businesses. Starting with one of their most popular high-end brothels. Officially, it looked like a luxury apartment building, but those who frequented the location knew it as Rapture. If you had enough money, you could find a girl willing to do whatever you desired. If burning this building didn’t get Adrik’s attention, I’d move on to Euphoria, Utopia, and Indulgence.

I would quite literally light a fire under his financial heels and cripple the entire organization, one business at a time. Even if Adrik and Yuri didn’t want to give in, those below them would eventually suffer enough to pressure those at the top to compromise. I would make them beg for a cease-fire by the time I finished with them. Only, I didn’t know whether I would grant it or obliterate the enterprise. We could easily move in and distribute the territory to the other crime families, and they wouldn’t be inclined to complain if it meant financial gain.

We parked on the next block over from Rapture and piled out of the vehicle, gathering supplies from the back. I lifted my chin at Cosimo. “Have them cut the camera feeds. We have maybe twenty minutes from when somebody notices the feed is down before somebody shows up to check it out.”

“On it.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped out a message, then waited. A reply flashed across the screen, the blue light accentuating the shadows on my brother’s face. “We’re good.”

I nodded, and we dashed to the end of the next block, where we could see the ten-story building. I reached for my phone and dialed Diego’s number.

“Take out the guards,” I ordered in a sharp whisper. “Move from the bottom up, then evacuate the building on the way down.”

“Yes, Mr. Neretti,” came Diego’s curt reply. He and the other men were already in position, and I watched as figures clad in black moved through the shadows and into the building. My pulse quickened with dangerous anticipation.

Minutes ticked by as I glanced from my phone to the building, watching for any indication of what was happening inside. The soundproofing had to be nearly as good as Cosimo’s dungeon, given what the girls did for a living. Finally, I caught it. The light in the building’s entrance flickered in a pattern, then stayed steady.

The men poured out first, stumbling onto the sidewalk half-dressed, carrying their shoes, and keeping their heads down to avoid being identified. Cosimo motioned forward with two leather-gloved fingers and raced across the street on my nod, a black duffel slung over his shoulder. I followed with my men, who carried similar equipment.

Surprisingly, the chaos was largely limited to the panicked Johns. The working girls moved quietly and efficiently, carrying bags and remembering to slip into sweats and sneakers before taking the elevators and stairs to the exits. Nobody would suspect they were high-end escorts since they more closely resembled gym bunnies.

None spoke as they passed my men, keeping their heads down, branching off from the entrances, or heading to the underground parking to save their vehicles. It wasn’t until you saw the hardened looks they wore that you realized they’d expected a day like this; perhaps they had even lived through similar situations in the past. Their bags were likely packed and ready to go should they need a quick escape. And tonight, it was necessary.

My conscience didn’t nag at me for my decision to burn their home to the ground. The girls went into their work for the Bratva with eyes wide open. Their willingness was the only reason the Zolotovs got away with the brothel buildings in Chicago. We didn’t tolerate trafficking.

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