Page 56 of Unforgiving Saint (Starukhin Bratva)

NIKOLAI

An unexpected rainpelts the windshield as I pull up to Larissa’s house. Pavel went to aid Rurik, following orders to meet here afterward. But no one is around, and the house looks peaceful from the outside. The rain runs off the roof, forming small puddles on the stone walkway that leads to the door.

The curtains are drawn, and the shrubs have been trimmed to perfection. Everything appears tranquil and calm in the light rain. Have I made a mistake? A chill runs through me as I wonder if the Lanzzare have set up an ambush. The thought angers me that they could be using my sister to get me. I put the car in park and jump out, sprinting toward the door, ignoring the rain.

I have to find Larissa now and make sure she’s safe.

My key sticks in the lock as I try to turn it. Rurik is against keypads, and I take a deep breath and steady my hands as I turn the key again. When the door finally swings open, a confused but unharmed Larissa is standing in the hallway, staring at me and then the door.

“Jesus, Kolya, what’s gotten into you?” she asks. “I heard the noise and thought someone was breaking in.”

“Your phone,” I blurt out. “You didn’t answer it.” I walk past her, eyeing the hallway. It’s empty except for both of us, and my eyes move cautiously from one end to the other, looking for any signs of danger. “I’ve been calling you since I left Manhattan.” I spin around to face her. “Are you alone?”

Larissa frowns at me like I’m crazy for giving a damn. She walks into the enclosed patio to check her phone. Shaking her head, she shows me the screen—no notifications. “I didn’t get any calls, Kolya,” she scoffs. “You know how spotty cell reception can be around here.”

“Maybe,” I concede, but something doesn’t feel right. “I’ll check outside.”

I step back into the rain and scan the area, searching for anything that might explain the lack of communication. My gut instincts are shrieking at me, warning me that this is not spotty cell reception. And then I find it—a small, inconspicuous device hidden in the bushes facing the house.

It’s a signal jammer.

“Fuck!” I curse under my breath as I rip the phone jammer from its hiding place. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Someone is fucking playing games with me, and I raced right into their trap. A cold dread washes over me, colder than the rain. I freeze in place. My men are scattered all over the city, and Eden is unprotected and alone at the penthouse with only the staff to defend her. They won’t be enough.

Lara stares at me as I run back into the house. She takes a sharp breath and holds it, watching me intently with wide eyes. “What’s wrong? Is Rurik safe?”

“Stay here,” I tell Larissa, ignoring her question. She knows he would have been the first one here. “Lock the doors. Don’t let anyone in.”

She nods, understanding the gravity of the situation without asking for further explanation, at least not from me. “Be careful, Kolya,” she says.

“I will.” I keep my voice steady. “Rurik will come back, Lara.” But deep down, I know that careful may not be enough this time.

My hands grip the steering wheel. I race back to the penthouse like the devil is behind me.

People flood the crosswalks, going about their business while my life is spinning out of control. My mind flips through every possible scenario. I pray nothing is wrong, but I know better. Who could they be targeting? Eden? Mercy? The thought of either one of them in danger sends a surge of protectiveness and desperation through me. Eden, I love, and Mercy is my responsibility.

As the tires screech beneath me, I navigate the slick streets, cursing myself for ever leaving Eden alone. Love and revenge have become tangled up in my life, and now it seems the Bratva that once promised power has turned against me.

I just hope I’m not too late.

The penthouse elevator opens,and I step into a nightmare.

No …

Furniture is upended, and shattered glass covers the floor. It crunches beneath my feet as I look at the blood splattered across the carpet.

No, no, no!

I stare at my collection of priceless artworks, shredded but still hanging on the wall. But there’s only one thing precious to me.

“Eden!” I shout.

There’s no reply, only an eerie silence answers me. My heart pounds, each beat a hammer against my rib cage as I search frantically through the chaos. I run up the spiral staircase, hoping she’s safe in the room I once kept her.

The bedroom is empty, but I shout their names anyway. “Eden! Mercy!” I hurry back downstairs and slow my step as a young cook from the kitchen walks timidly into the hallway. He stops by the open office door.

Visibly shaken, he stares at me. “She’s hurt badly.” He becomes agitated when he sees my desperate expression. “Dominika,” he clarifies quickly. “Over here in the office.”

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