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“I’m not in the fucking mood, De Luca. Just get it done.”

The call ended, and I chuckled, shaking my head.

My father had done business with Alexei, head of the bratva, a couple of times many years ago. I attended some events and met Alexei’s son, Damien, who had been in line to take over next.

Moretti had been on my ass about this for months, but getting my wife back was my top priority. Lucky for him, that wasn’t an issue anymore.

I tucked my cellphone into my pocket again before checking the magazine of my handgun. Hopefully, I didn’t get my head blown off today.

Before leaving I made sure to instruct my men not to leave Nirah’s room under any circumstances. I had her locked in, but knowing her, she’d fine a way to try and escape.

I had a couple of my men stationed here in Moscow so it wasn’t difficult to find Kulikov’s location. I should’ve brought backup, but I knew that would only escalate the situation unnecessarily. I wasn’t here to fight after all.

I strolled into the warehouse of the infamous Damien Kulikov by myself, watching his head slowly lift.

The way he straightened was a clear indication that he recognised me. Good. This won’t take long then.

His Russian accent was thick as he kept his voice low. “What are you doing here?”

I brushed off his question, slowly inching closer with my arms folded over my chest. “Isla seems nice.”

With that simple sentence our eyes locked and a dark force fell over him, settling between us. “There it is,” I mused. His weakness. Noted.

For a split second, his eyes darted to the door — anticipating her arrival with one of my men— but when she didn’t enter, relief washed over him. Though, I barely caught it.

“I’m smarter than you anticipate, Kulikov.” I finally stopped in front of him.

“I beg to differ.”

“How so?” I questioned, glancing around.

“You showed up alone.” He paused. “Unarmed.” Not entirely true.

“You and I both know I don’t need weapons.” I grinned, noticing his fury slowly rising to the surface. One thing this fucker was good at, was a poker face.

“What do you want?”

“Stop fucking with Moretti.”

His eyebrows raised for a split second in understanding. Then, his schooled expression returned.

“No.” He turned to the table decorated with weapons behind him and I nodded. “Leave,” he warned, lifting one of the guns as he examined it, dismissing me. Well, that’s not very nice.

Letting out a humorless chuckle I slipped both hands into the pockets of my slacks. “Last chance, Kulikov.” I kept my tone light.

His shoulders straightened. Then, he turned to face me fully. “You’re in my city, standing in my warehouse. You have no authority here. No control. This isn’t New York.”

An icy breeze flew by, but it did nothing to lower the heated temperature sizzling between us. He despised me. I loathed him. We never got along and I was certain we never would. But, I owed Moretti one.

I nodded once, then turned to head for the door.

Stopping a few feet from the exit I stared out until a building in the distance exploded, crumbling to the ground.

With a clenched jaw he approached me, only to see two more buildings across from the warehouse implode, leaving behind nothing but dust and debris.

Slowly, I turned to face him, dark blue eyes narrowed in on me.

I shook my head. “Innocent lives were just lost,” I mused, keeping my tone low and his fingers curled and uncurled into fists at his sides. “Leave Moretti alone, or I’ll burn every building to the ground, hopefully with Isla inside one of them.”