by LP Lovell
“Babe, you and guns…”
She points at me. “Don’t you fucking dare. I’m a better shot than any of your shit soldiers. I’m a better shot than you. So how is this going to go, Nero? Are you going to treat me like a prisoner? Your own personal incubator?” She scowls at me, her jaw set into a hard line. “I do not need you, remember that.”
She always has to push. I step close to her and grab her around the throat, pulling her face close to mine, “Don’t fucking push me, before I’ve had coffee.” She continues to glare, but makes no effort to get out of my hold. “You are not a prisoner. You are my equal.” I shove her away from me. She staggers back a step and I hand her the key to the armoury.
She turns away before throwing over her shoulder. “Actually, I’m The Kiss of Death. No one is my equal.”
Damn, she makes me want to hurt her and fuck her. I swear to god, the second that baby is out of her… By the time I’ve had my coffee, Una is coming down the stairs wearing her yoga pants and a sports bra, with her earphones in. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail and her hands are wrapped.
“Fancy a round?” she flashes me a wry smile.
“I’m not fighting with you.” My eyes drop to her stomach.
She glares at me. “You can just be my punch bag then.”
“Anyone would think you just want to ruin my pretty face.” I smirk.
“You are far too pretty to be a mafia boss. Sure you don’t want me to give you a few scars? Make you look more badass?”
She passes me and swipes her finger over the still healing cut on my neck from last week. “I have plenty of scars courtesy of you, thanks,” I say. Namely the fucking great ugly hole she put in my shoulder. She shrugs. “Just think of it this way, if you ever decide to kill me, my head will make a much prettier trophy than Arnaldo’s.”
“True.” Her eyes narrow, a satisfied grin playing across her lips. Just the memory of Arnaldo’s decapitated head is enough to make me hard for her. He found out the tough way what happens when you piss Una off. She’s merciless.
I take a step towards her as she backs towards the gym. “Did I ever tell you how hot I find your extreme bouts of violence?”
She shrugs one shoulder and walks backwards away from me. “Hormones.”
“Still hot.”
A wry smile pulls at her lips. “You’re sick,” she says as she pushes open the gym door and closes it behind her.
“Says the woman whose hormonal outbursts include blowing up a house and killing eighteen men,” I mumble to myself before heading to the office.
15
Una
I pound over the heavy bag again and again until my arms ache and sweat runs down my back. I half expect Nero to come in here and check up on me, but he doesn’t and I’m grateful. I need some time to think, to go through everything in my mind. Part of me hates that Nero caught me. That part feels like it’s his fault that we’re here because he wouldn’t just let me run. But then I think: what if we can win this? It’s pretty fucking unlikely, but what if we could? And there it is—hope. Nero makes me feel things, want things, and I think I’d rather go down in a blaze of glory with him at my side, rather than give my child to a stranger and go back to Nicholai to play his favorite pet again. He reaches too far, asks for too much, and I will kill him or die trying.
When approaching Nicholai, everything needs to be strategic. He doesn’t think like normal people. He is the embodiment of the ultimate predator, intelligent, persistent, ruthless, wealthy, and crazy. Add all of that together and we’re facing an opponent that genuinely frightens me. There’s also so much at stake here. I’ve been trained to fear nothing, but it’s easy not to fear when the worst case scenario is death. My own death I am not afraid of, but my baby’s… Suddenly fear is a very real, very tangible thing, and I don’t like it. I don’t like the way it settles on my chest and makes the simple act of drawing a breath feel like a chore. My whole body thrums with a tension I’ve never felt. And it’s constantly there, pressing on my muscles, squeezing around my middle. I pause and rest my forehead against the bag, drawing deep breaths.
No, I won’t let that happen. Even if I fall, Nero will be there. I have to trust that. The path before me seems so clear and yet impossible. The only way Nicholai will ever stop is if he’s dead, but can it be done? Can such a key player in the Bratva really be taken down? Maybe, I might be able to get close enough to him. After all, I’m his favorite.
I shove away from the bag and leave the gym, pulling the wraps from my hands. George is lying on his side right outside the gym door, but leaps up the second he sees me. Smiling, I trail my fingers over his sleek coat as he walks beside me. One of Nero’s soldiers goes running past me, his hand pressed to his ear as he says something into an ear piece. All I hear is one word: intruder. It’s enough to make my heart rate pick up and have me diverting to the armoury, a reinforced panic room hidden behind a panel in the dining room. Nero is nothing if not resourceful. I press the key fob into the slot in the wall and enter a code. The door opens with a hiss and I step inside. There’s a wall of weapons on one side and TV screens on the other, all showing various cameras in the apartment and building. I glance at each of them, pausing on the lobby. I narrow my eyes at the group of men in suits, all surrounding a single man. His hair is almost white, but his face is youthful. Sasha. Two men lie at his feet, either unconscious or dead. The guys surrounding him seem wary, though he looks completely calm. Typical Sasha. Is he friend or foe now? It’s no secret that his loyalty is with Nicholai. But he did approach Nero, and he helped me run. I hesitate for a moment before leaving the room and heading for the elevator. There’s one guy standing guard, and he reaches for his gun as soon as he sees me.
“You guys really need to get the memo that I’m not a prisoner,” I growl.
“Sorry, ma’am. Boss’ orders. No one leaves. No one comes in.” I smile, stepping close enough that my bulging stomach brushes against him. He swallows heavily and goes rigid stiff. “Firstly, call me ma’am again, and I will cut your tongue out. Secondly, think of me as an extension of Nero, because if you disrespect me again, it’s not going to go well for you.” Shaking, he nods and I plaster a fake smile on my face. “Now, radio down to those idiots and tell them to let Sasha up.”
“Do not touch your radio,” Nero’s voice comes from behind me, low and commanding.
I turn on him, glaring. “Seriously?”
He’s wearing only a pair of workout pants, his hair still damp from the shower. “You trust him?” he asks incredulously.
“Of course, it’s Sasha.” It’s not a complete lie. I trust that he wouldn’t come here to hurt me, but not that he wouldn’t tell Nicholai everything he knows. I don’t judge him for it, the kind of upbringing we had, it warps your mind through both fear and conditioning. I felt that same blind loyalty to Nicholai for years, but I had something to hold onto outside of that facility—my sister. Sasha never had that. The closest thing he has to family is me and Nicholai, and I’m essentially making him choose between his father and his sister.
“What if he’s here to kill you? Wouldn’t he be the perfect pawn? He’s close enough to you that you trust him, skilled enough to take you down, and no doubt dispensable, so if I kill him afterwards, Nicholai won’t care.”
Sighing, I place my hands on my hips. “Sasha’s good, but not better than me, let alone when I’m surrounded by half the mob.” I roll my eyes. “And Nicholai doesn’t want me dead. That’s the last thing he wants.”
“Una…”
“Please, just trust me. He might have information. He’s done nothing but help us so far.”
His dark brows pull together and he folds his arms over his broad chest. “I don’t like it.”
“Acknowledged.”
“Don’t tell him anything. How did he even know you’re here? Does Nicholai know where you are?”
“Capo,” I snort, “you own two properties in New York. It’s not difficult, plus, Sasha can h
ack any security camera, anywhere. If he wants to find someone, he’ll find them.” I jerk my chin towards the camera in the corner of the room. “He can hack through all your firewalls. He’s good.”
“That’s reassuring,” he grumbles. “Tell them to bring him up,” he says to the guy still standing behind me. He turns around and disappears up the stairwell. I watch him go, waiting for the elevator to climb to the top of the building. A few seconds later I feel Nero approaching from behind without even looking. He moves to stand slightly in front of me and tugs a shirt over his head before facing the elevator like my own personal guard dog. On pure principle, I step up beside him, folding my arms over my chest.
The elevator pings and the doors slide open, revealing a wall of suited Italians. Nero’s men still don’t like me, and most of them either glare at me or ignore me altogether. I don’t care, but I worry that their loyalty to Nero might waver since he’s fucking the enemy. He and I know that it was retaliation, but even I’ll admit that twenty-one dead Italians is hard to explain. And well, Italians all seem to be linked. Guaranteed, every guy I killed has a cousin or nephew or brother within Nero’s ranks, which is always comforting.
The suits step out, filing to either side of the doors and revealing Sasha. His face is steely as always, his features severe and angular. A small frown line sinks between his brows as his eyes move from my face to my stomach.
“So it’s true,” he says simply. I nod and he glances around the room. I can see his mind processing every detail, looking for threats. He’s assessing everything, from the distance between us to the way each man is holding his gun, spotting weaknesses, planning, strategizing. I know, because it’s exactly what I do when I’m in a hostile situation.
“Why are you here, Sasha?” I ask.
He glances at Nero, and then back to me, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Give us a minute,” I say to Nero.
“No.”
I turn to face him and he simply stares straight at Sasha, his expression giving away nothing. “Nero…”I say. His jaw clenches, the muscles fluttering beneath tanned skin.
Nero looks at the guys either side of the elevator. “Go. Gio, stay.” The men do as instructed, filing away into the apartment and leaving just Gio, Nero, Sasha and me. I turn back around and Sasha’s eyes meet mine. I know what he’s thinking, that I just thinned out the herd and evened the odds. I step towards him and he closes the distance between us, pulling me into a hug which makes me tense. Sasha and I have never hugged. It’s not something you do when neither of you can stand being touched.
“I’m so sorry I helped them get to you. We have to get you as far away from here as possible,” he whispers in Russian, so quietly it’s barely above a breath. I feel something solid pressing against my stomach and slowly reach down, my fingers brushing over the cool metal of a gun. “Ready?” he says, his body tensing, priming for attack.
“Wait, Sasha.” I pull away from him slightly. “I’m not leaving.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Nero snaps. I hear the click of a safety being removed by Gio, and I can feel the aggression pouring off Nero like a living thing slithering over my back.
I hold my hand out to Nero because Sasha, though like my brother, is still a lethal killer. He won’t hurt me, but Nero and Gio are simply targets assessed on their threat level. I know this. “I’m not running,” I say, in English this time, taking the clip out of the gun he gave me and handing it back to him.
Those jade green eyes meet mine, concern and confusion swimming in them. “Una, he knows.”
I nod. “I’m aware.”
“Then you know he wants that child,” he says, his voice rising. He drops to one knee and swipes a hand through his hair in agitation. We used to take a knee when we were training in the field as a way of strategizing, taking a minute to plan.
“Where could I even go, Sasha? There is nowhere he wouldn’t track me.”
“Then…” He sighs. “Then come home, beg him to forgive you. You know he will. He loves you. This…you’re just making it worse for yourself, Una.” Nero lets out a low growl behind me and I turn on him.
“Really? Just go to the kitchen,” I say through clenched teeth. He cocks a brow, looking at me as if I am another one of his pawns to be commanded.
“Forgive me if I don’t trust your super killer friend here,” Nero says.
“I swear to fucking god, Nero, pain, so much pain,” I snap.
“I thought stress was bad for babies,” Sasha says flatly.
I turn back to him and can’t help but smile. “Oh, well,” I say, “poor fucker doesn’t stand a chance then.” He pushes to his feet, glancing at Nero again.
“The Italian is volatile and unpredictable,” he says in Russian. “He will get you killed.”
“In our world, volatile and unpredictable wins wars.” I drop my gaze to the floor and take a deep breath. “He is dangerous and I need dangerous.”
“Please come home,” he begs. I can see the hint of fear in his eyes, and I know it’s not for the baby, it’s simply for me because I’m the closest thing to human connection he has.
I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. “I’m never going back, Sasha. He will do to this baby what he did to us.”
His expression goes tight, his posture rigid tense the same way it always is, ready for an attack at any second. “Was it so bad?” he asks.
What Sasha can’t see is that, despite his many strengths, his life is a sad and pitiful existence. By the time I met him, I was thirteen. He was fourteen, but he had already been in the facility for five years. Maybe Nicholai got me just a little too late, because I never truly let go of the life I had before becoming Elite. Sasha is the living, breathing embodiment of everything Nicholai wanted him to be. His life is whatever Nicholai chooses in that moment because he knows nothing else. He has no freedom, only orders and compliance. And the saddest part of all of this is that he can’t see it. He can’t see what was taken from him, only the strengths he was given, but they come at a high price. “We were children, Sasha.”
“He made us strong, Una. You are the strongest of us, and yet you throw it back in his face,” he says, his voice rising slightly before he composes himself again.
“He broke us and turned us into weapons.” I take a small step back away from him and closer to Nero. “I’ve made my choice.”
Sasha’s eyes flick to Nero, his jaw set in a rigid line. “You think that you are strong enough to protect her from what’s coming?” he says to Nero in English.
“With great power comes great responsibility,” Nero replies cryptically.
Sasha takes a deep breath. “You have no idea what is coming.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “He will go for your weaknesses.” His eyes flick to Nero again. “And you have developed many, but I will try to help you.”
“Why?” I frown. “If Nicholai finds out…”
“Because you are my sister, and I love you.”
“I love you, too.” My eyes prickle and I curse these bloody hormones. He turns and gets in the elevator. “But Sasha…” He glances at me. “Don’t endanger yourself for me. I do not expect to make it out of this alive,” I say in Russian because Nero doesn’t need to know how low my expectations really are. I throw Sasha the clip in my hand and he snatches it out of the air right before the doors glide shut.
I hold onto those last words between us, because I don’t know if or when I’ll see him again, and really, Sasha is more like a sibling to me than my actual sister. Sasha and I have always been close, but I didn’t think either of us capable of love. Has he changed, or is it just me? Has he always loved me and I was too emotionless to see it? After Alex, I shunned and feared love as though it were a plague. Loving Alex cost me dearly, and I would do anything to avoid that pain again. To lose someone you care about so deeply is a pain unlike any other, it wounds you, leaving scars that never heal. And then I think: what if Nicholai were to kill Nero? I care for him, I’m invested in him as an
ally, as the father of my child, and perhaps…perhaps I love him in a way. Killing Alex tore out my heart, and I don’t have much left to give, but I think that whatever twisted, blackened part of it remains belongs to Nero. After all, he is my equal. He’s forced me to feel things that I thought long dormant, and I respect him in a way I’ve never respected anyone else. I trust him, and that speaks volumes.
I turn to face him. His arms are folded over his chest and his hair is messy like he’s been dragging his hands through it. “You chose to stay,” he says simply. I nod, unable to speak the words that are hanging in the air. I chose you. If I wanted to escape, I was never going to get a better chance than with Sasha here. All the king’s soldiers and all the king’s men could not stop the two of us together. On my own, I’m good, with Sasha…we’re invincible, Nicholai’s best kill team. “Can you trust him?” Nero asks.
I chew on my bottom lip. “I want to.” I want to believe that Sasha would never sell me out. “But you have to understand, the training, it’s hard to resist. And the punishments for disloyalty are…” I remember them well. Repeated electrocutions, whippings, water boarding, even injections of scorpion venom that would make you hallucinate. And when you’ve seen the things we’ve seen those hallucinations are not pretty. “He’s not the enemy.”
He watches me for a few seconds and then nods. “The second he puts you at risk, he is. Do you understand?” I hesitate. “This isn’t just about you anymore, Morte. Tell me you understand,” he demands, that power he wears so well flexing and rolling like a wave.
I nod slowly and he turns away from me, heading for the stairs. I drag my hand through my hair and let out a long breath before I follow him, because I need to shower. When I’m in the bedroom I strip out of my yoga pants. Nero comes out of the walk-in closet, wearing dress pants and a shirt to which he is fastening the buttons.
“Going somewhere?” I ask.
He lifts one brow, his expression stoic. “I have some business to handle in the city.”