He steps back to his desk, glances at Mariano, and nods. Like they’ve already agreed on something I don’t know about yet.
“You and Pedro are needed. Now I’m sure of it—we’ve got a wedding to attend.” A slow smirk spreads across his face when he glances back at me, trying to mask the fury still bubbling underneath.
That wasn’t an invitation. That was a threat.
The Capo is out of his lair…
And I won’t feel sorry for whoever stands in his way.
I don’t ask questions at this point. I know better.
I just stand tall.
“I’m in.”
Malec
“Fedor has a daughter?” I scoff in disbelief from the back seat of Uncle Pedro’s car. “Wasn’t Dimitry his only child?”
“Roran Morozova.” Pedro doesn’t even glance back. “We had eyes on her before—she runs their main strip club—but no one thought she was his blood. Until now.”
He doesn’t sound the least bit surprised. Like this is just another piece on the board shifting into place.
“The second Fedor announced her marriage to Ivan Petrov, we knew. Blood always comes first in their deals. He wouldn’t hand her over unless she was his daughter.”
Of course. Petrov.
“They’re joining forces with the Russians in Miami?” I ask, eyes flicking to the back windshield. My father’s men are tailing us in a sleek line of black cars. All of them locked and loaded. Ready to crash the party.
“Straight to the bottom line, huh? Just like your father,” he smirks in the rearview mirror, his golden gem eyes locking with mine, shimmering with clear satisfaction.
“We’re going to stop this marriage from happening,” he adds, tone laced with a quiet threat.
If they join forces with the Miami family, they’ll become more of a problem than ever—bolder, better funded, and cocky enough to mess with our territory again. They’ve done it before. Every time they gain men and ground, they try to test us.
They’re going to be a serious pain in the ass.
“So you plan on killing everyone and heading to dinner after?” I ask flatly, keeping my poker face locked on his reflection.
“That wouldn’t be the worst plan,” Bay says, twisting around in the front seat. “The three of us wouldn’t mind a good feed.” She points at me, then at her chest.
Pedro chuckles, the lines by his eyes and across his forehead deepening. We Black Blooded apparently stop aging once we hit our prime—mid-twenties, give or take. Bay still looks like she’s barely past thirty. But him? He looks older. Worn. Human, almost.
I don’t laugh at her jab.
This isn’t just a party crash. We’re risking a war with the Russians in both Miami and New York if this goes sideways.
And with everything unraveling in the ocean—and the princess that is probably somewhere on land—I don’t know if I can protect all of them at all times.
“Stop worrying so much,”Myko growls in my head, cutting through my spiraling thoughts. “They’ve been doing this mafia human thing longer than you’ve been alive. I hate saying it—but trust your father’s plan. You know he doesn’t get played.”
He’s right. But it’s still messy. Ruining a wedding, likely with all their bosses in attendance?
“What’s the plan?” I ask, jaw clenched. “Stop dancing around it.”
“The quick answer?” Pedro says. “Taking out Ivan.”
I choke out a gasp, eyes bulging.
