Page 158 of The Bratva King

Then, I turn and pick up my phone.

I work for the next five hours straight. Pasha leads the interrogations. My casino security runs the men from the therapy-center footage through facial recognition and cross-checks them against Matteo Castellano’s known associates.

The house moves around me. Pasha sends Olga and Mila to one of our safe houses in Utah. Galina is at the hospital, keeping me updated on Kylie and Carson. Guards cycle in and out. Irina appears with food I don’t touch.

I’m watching the security feed from my desk when the first SUV rolls through, then the second, and then a third right behind it.

I’m moving toward the front of the house when the first SUV doors open. Sergei climbs out with his best friend and right-hand man, Kirill.

“Nikolai.”

“Sergei.”

We don’t embrace. He grips my shoulder once, hard. I return the gesture, and that’s enough. That’s always been enough between us.

“Sofia sends her love,” Sergei says. “If this is prolonged, I’ll send for her and the boys.”

“It won’t be,” I say without a hint of doubt.

Maksim and Lila emerge from the second SUV. Maksim throws an arm around the back of my neck. “We’ll get him back,” he says.

“Where is she?” Lila asks.

“Upstairs.”

“I’ll show you.” Irina leads her upstairs.

Right now, Gabby needs someone I can’t be. Someone softer. Someone who knows how to sit with another person’s fear without trying to eliminate it. Someone who can understand the emotions she’s experiencing.

Damien, Maksim’s right-hand man, emerges from the passenger seat. “Nikolai.”

“Damien.”

My cousins, Andrei and Roman, arrive shortly after. Both are men I trust with my life, which is not something I can say about many people. I have called in everyone. And they have dropped everything to come.

“Come in,” I say.

I bring everyone into the study. Irina appears with a tray of sandwiches and coffee, then slips out.

The room is too full. Too many large men carrying too much tension. I retreat behind the desk, putting some distance between me and them. The pressure builds in my head. I can’t afford to lose control right now.

Sergei stands at the window with his arms crossed. Maksim leans against the bookshelf. Andrei and Roman position themselves near the door, blocking the exit on instinct.

“Tell me what you know,” Sergei says.

“Not enough yet.” I check my phone. “Pasha is on his way back. He’s handling the interrogations.”

Sergei’s expression doesn’t change. “Italian?”

“Yes. But not the family I’ve been dealing with.”

Maksim’s head comes up. “Different family?”

I tell them who Gabriella is.

“Shit,” Sergei mutters. “I remember when that happened. They blamed us.”

The door opens, and Pasha walks in. He looks like hell. There’s something dark on his sleeve. Blood, most likely. His knuckles are bruised. He scans the room, acknowledging everyone with a nod.