Page 137 of Vow Of Fire

I stood at the kitchen counter, one hand braced against the marble while Evelyn composed herself and went to sit down at the table. Her gaze was on me, her forehead furrowed, but her lips were still swollen from my cock. From what she’d almost done to me.

I forced myself to focus on the escalating situation. “How bad?”

“A warehouse in Red Hook was torched about thirty minutes ago. The fire department is there, but it looks like a pro job.” A warehouse in Red Hook meant the Bratva. My mother’s tone remained cool and measured, though I knew her well enough to hear the satisfaction beneath it. “Three confirmed dead. One missing.”

Jesus Christ. “They hit back fast.”

“As expected.”

I dragged a hand over my jaw, already calculating in my head what this might mean. Territories would be redrawn. Retaliations planned. The body count would rise.

“What’s Malakov saying?”

“He’s furious.” A pause. “Apparently someone also took a shot at Alexei this evening leaving Brighton Beach.”

My stomach tightened. “Was he hit?”

“Who?” mouthed Evelyn, looking worried.

“No. The bullet shattered the rear passenger window. His driver got him out clean.”

I didn’t reply.

Valentina hesitated again. “The boy’s shaken up, though.”

That was understandable. Alexei had grown up around violence, but there was a difference between hearing stories about a turf war and having rounds zip past your skull on a New York street.

“This is going to get ugly,” I muttered.

“Just like we planned,” Valentina replied evenly.

My gaze shifted back to Evelyn.

She sat barefoot at my dining table, blouse askew, copper hair tumbling around her flushed face. Beautiful. Soft. Mine.

And suddenly all I could see was blood on that pale skin. A bullet tearing through her body because I’d allowed myself to become distracted. Weak.

The realization hit me like a knife in the chest.

Valentina continued speaking, discussing possible countermeasures, but part of me had already switched off. All I could think about was what a mess I’d made of everything. How, by giving in to my baser instincts, I’d risked the one thing I had come to care about.

Evelyn.

This had escalated faster than I’d anticipated. The Colombians weren’t merely posturing anymore. They were hitting back with destabilizing brutality, forcing Malakov into open retaliation. Which meant the violence was only beginning.

If our enemies realized what Evelyn had become to me…

I swallowed hard.

No.

I couldn’t afford this attachment. Neither could she.

“Dante?” Valentina prompted sharply.

“I’m here.”

“Did you hear me?”