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Liam West doesn’t exist. Fake name.
My curse comes out as a scream.
Gathering all the photographs from the wall and the few pieces of mail I spotted on the kitchen counter, I shove them into a pillowcase and carry my haul into the living room. I send a message to one of my men and tell them to bring a crew. We’re taking the cameras, the wine-stained comforter, everything.
Andrei still hasn’t seen our messages, and I have half a mind to call the man. Instead, I type a quick text.
Where is Valentina?
With the boss, Mikhail replies immediately. Saw the video. That’s fucked up.
Yeah, it is. I stare at the camera overhead and bare my teeth at it. “You think this funny, suka?” I throw my evidence to the ground and crack my knuckles. I’d rather be cracking the man’s skull, but it’ll have to wait. “I am going to find you, and I will rip out your teeth, one by one.”
It’s one thing if Mikhail wants to be a pervert and take pictures of Valentina while she sleeps. I don’t give a damn about what that man does or what fantasies go through his head. He might spook her a little, but he won’t hurt her.
He won’t lie to her.
I hate liars with every fiber of my being.
And this fucker has been lying to Valentina for years.
My mind shifts to Katya, and my rage doubles. What lies has Katya been spreading? Has she been feeding Valentina lies this entire time? With bullshit like?—
Splitting pain ricochets around my skull, and I groan as my stress levels rise to unhealthy levels.
My head spins. I can’t think straight. Blood roars white hot in my ears and pulses hard through my veins with each beat of my heart.
I pace the room as I wait for my men to arrive. We’re two states over from Harlin Heights, but I brought a few men with me. They should arrive here within minutes.
I look out at the cityscape, take in its gleaming rooftops and shining glass windows in the daylight, and have the violent urge to burn it all to the ground.
No one fucks with Valentina and gets away with it. I’ll make sure everyone involved meets the violent, bloody end they all fucking deserve.
Then, while their blood hasn’t even cooled on the concrete yet, I’ll make Valentina finally say thank you.
A rush of adrenaline floods my system as I imagine Valentina’s pretty emerald eyes looking up at me with gratitude.
Thank you, Ezra, for saving my life.
She wraps her arms around my chest and holds me tight, finally letting me fold my battered, broken wings around her, shielding her from all the daggers held at her back.
I used to be her guardian angel. She told me that once.
A strangled laugh cracks in my throat.
Angels don’t do the kinds of things I do. But you keep on believing, Valentina, and maybe someday, I’ll become the man you think I am.
Chapter 13
Andrei
The mayor’s birthday is always one of the biggest events of the year. People from the highest levels of society show up just to make an appearance, have their photo taken, order a two-hundred-dollar cocktail, and slip out the back door.
A few actually take the time to network or talk business, but most stick to their usual groups to spread gossip.
It’s the perfect place to show Valentina off and reintroduce her to society. She should know a few of the bigger names, but some things have changed in the last five years. With my rise in the Bratva, we’ve had to make a few changes to key positions within the city. Not everyone supported my succession as pakhan without Valentina’s Baranova blood behind me. They quickly made their objections known...and just as quickly disappeared from view.
Tolkotsky promised me his throne, and instead of it gracefully falling into my lap upon his death, I had to take it from his cold, dead grasp.
