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“Because he wanted you to believe he was a friend so that you’d never suspect who he was really working for: himself. Vittorio Zanetti has only ever worked for himself, Dmitri.” Cian clears his throat and I find my gun hand lowering. “The alliance he made with you only showed him how powerful you were. He didn’t like playing second fiddle and he didn’t like taking the smaller percentages, the scraps, the pity and disrespect. So he decided to take you down without risking the alliance he had brokered with you. He went to my brother, who was just the right combination of bloodthirsty and stupid to agree to the plan.”
“A plan that involved murdering my wife, you mean.”
Cian cringes; he’s sweating from the temples now. His blue eyes are clouded and his voice trembles when he speaks. “It was obvious that she was your biggest weakness. Vittorio was trying to pave the way for a future match between you and Bee.”
I swallow and turn around. It’s not only what he’s saying, which makes too much sense to be denied; it’s also the way he says it. Cold and calm and unblinking.
He means it.
Every word of it.
I’ve been after the wrong man.
“Yes, he managed to get rid of Elena,” continues Cian. “But you went after Cathal in revenge. You succeeded, and that left Vittorio’s hands tied. He had to amend the plan?—”
“Meaning what?” I snarl, whirling around to face the Irishman again. “He came to you?”
“A year ago,” he confirms. “And I turned him down.”
I raise my eyebrows skeptically. “You honestly expect me to believe that?”
“I can only hope you do, because it’s the truth.” His voice catches. “I’m… I’m not like my brother, Dmitri. I didn’t inherit the bloodthirstiness that he did. My intention was to keep our businesses running and keep my men employed. Apart from that, I wanted a quiet life. A safe one.”
I frown, recalling something that Wren said to me a long time ago. Something I had failed—no, something I had refused to listen to.
“… someone’s pulling his strings, Dmitri. He’s not the one calling the shots… I don’t think he wants to do any of this…”
“Well, clearly, you changed your mind,” I point out. “You agreed to work with Vittorio.”
“Because he threatened my life, my men’s lives,” Cian says without shame. “And yeah, I caved because… well, call me a coward, but I actually do want to live.” He squares his jaw and looks me in the eye. “But I’ve seen too many innocent people get caught in the crosshairs of cruel and ambitious men’s games. I’m done standing on the sidelines and watching it happen.”
My heart thuds in my chest. Every beat hurts worse than the last.
“If Vittorio finds out you’ve come to me, he’ll kill you.”
Cian nods. “Like I said, I’m not about to stand by and watch bad things happen to good people. And Wren is a good person.”
That sends a shiver straight to my heart. “He’s planning something,” I guess. “Isn’t he?”
I don’t wait for an answer; I turn to my desk and snatch my phone, cursing a soft stream in Russian under my breath. I dial Bee and wait.
Cian is still talking—about the wedding, about Vittorio’s plans for Bee, about his rage and his spite and all the things I have seen for far too long as nothing but petty, minor irritation—and the phone in my ear keeps ringing, and ringing, and ringing, and ringing, and ringing…
Then it clicks.
I look up into Cian’s pale blue eyes as the other end of the call opens with a torrent of engines roaring and wind screaming and Bee crying out, “… He’s got her, Dmitri, I’m so sorry, I lost them, they were speeding through traffic, I lost them, that bastard, my fucking father. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…”
The phone slips from my frozen hands and clatters on the desk. “You want me to trust you?” I croak to Cian. “Here’s your chance.”
46
WREN
Vittorio gives me a salacious smile as I try to soothe Mischa.
“Shhh, little one,” I coo softly. “It’s gonna be alright. You’re safe. I’m here.”
He chuckles. “We start lying to our children so young, don’t we? And we don’t even realize it.”
