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“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Layla says as she jumps up from her seat placed beside the bed I’m lying in. She clings to me, trying to push me back onto the bed. “You’re safe. You’re safe.”
I hold onto her. Real. She’s real. “Where am I?” I gasp, trying to calm my pounding heart. The last thing I remember is being jumped in the narrow street and hearing two gunshots, and then everything else is fuzzy…
“You’re in the Armani mansion right now. Luca and Dmitri made a deal to keep you here and safe while they take care of the rest. The Lion will assume you were taken by the Italian mafia.”
My bottom lip wobbles. I’d been used as bait. I knew that. I just didn’t know when it would happen, but it didn’t take away from how terrifying it was. I still wear the bracelet and am too scared to remove it, but I also know it still makes me a liability because of the tracker inside.
Layla catches my gaze and is quick to say. “Don’t worry, they know about the tracker. In fact, they’re counting on it. They hope it’ll draw him here.”
“I’m not enough leverage for that,” I confess as I tuck my knees under my chin, trying my hardest to act the face of calm. As I’d always done, especially in front of my sister. “He won’t come here for me. But he may burn down half of New York in the process.”
Does he know Dmitri’s involved? Undoubtedly, The Lion suspects? But of course, he won’t come here for me; he could care less. But the tracker will make it obvious who had taken me. It’s all a part of their trap.
And where is Dmitri? Is he okay? Does he know The Lion is here? His father. Is this the best plan of action? Are we damning ourselves? I now second-guess everything that we’d agreed to put into motion.
“Well, considering they just burnt down The Lion’s establishment that you check in to weekly and saved the women being trafficked, as well as the warehouse with a bunch of guns that Luca’s seized, I’m sure he’ll have a bone to pick with the Armani’s as his main focus.”
My jaw unhinges. Part of me is relieved to know that horrible place has been wiped out and the women saved. However, depending on whether they’re strong enough to fight their addictions and traumas is another story. But the reality of the situation was also far greater. I whisper with realization, “They’ve started a war.”
Layla casually shrugs. “He kind of started it himself when he began conducting business on the Armani’s territory.”
Fuck. It’s all happening now.
I’m scared.
“What happened to the man following me?” I ask, recalling that he was also with me in the alleyway.
Her expression shifts into something unpleasant. “Dead.”
My eyebrows furrow as I process that. Dmitri has been working behind the scenes this whole time. And all I could do in any of it was… simply exist.
Commotion stirs outside the room, and I jump as the door bursts open, revealing Dmitri.
He’s safe.
Thank goodness.
I go to stand but freeze under his scathing gaze and disheveled state. He doesn’t look like himself. He’s a manic, wild thing, the charismatic mask he usually wears thrown to the wayside as I stare at the rawest version of him yet.
“Are you okay?” Layla asks, picking up on the strange, palpable tension.
He rubs his head, still staring at me and menacingly.
He doesn’t seem himself.
I raise my hand and go to call for him, but his words slash at me as expertly as any blade.
“Did you move to Russia for him!” he demands.
My heart drops, and my stomach twists with guilt. He watches my expression, and the wild storm was nothing compared to what it is now. Why is he asking me this? What is he saying?
“Have you just played me this whole time?” he yells.
“Dmitri, she’s resting.” Layla tries to intervene but looks between us as if she doesn’t know what to do as she stands. This wasn’t her battle to fight. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I never played you. I always wanted you, I swear.” I break apart as I say it. An ugly sense of shame wraps around me. Has he been harboring these feelings all along? He’d only ever looked at me like I was something precious. Worshipped even. He wasn’t looking at me like that now, though. I was no more than a speck of filth in his presence.
He trembles with rage. He turns and throws his fists into the wall, and I crawl across the bed desperately toward him, reaching out wanting to beg for his forgiveness but also somehow take his pain away. To right the wrong that I’d done.
