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“I want everything I was denied, I want to be the Bratva king.” He says maniacally.
“You’re no king,” I say, spitting at him.
“Maybe I just enjoy torturing you a whole lot more. Next stop after this, I’ll be paying a visit to your father and removing his spleen. An eye for an eye,” he says bitterly.
“You’re sick.”
“Ironically, it was Anton who was the real bastard out of us. Maybe you just didn’t realize what a cruel man he was, but I’m glad you finally realize everything about the man you have been mourning was a lie. You were meant to die in Chicago at his hands, and now you’re going to meet that destiny at mine.”
His phone rings, and he answers frustratedly before letting out an angry howl. “My father is dead.” His eyes widening in anguish.
“Where is Rocco?” I say, my heart racing in my chest.
“Probably on his way over here.”
“Then you should make it easier for yourself and let me go.”
“You and I both know that isn’t going to happen. Give me the gun and I’ll make it painless.”
“No.”
“You’re not a killer, Sophia. You won’t kill me.”
“Try me,” I say, my fingers tightening around the trigger.
Before I can react, he throws himself on me and I am shoved back onto the hard concrete floor. He wraps his hands around my neck until I am gasping for air. My hand is still holding the gun, but he bangs my arm on the floor until the gun drops from my grip.
“Any last words,” he says, pointing his gun at my chest.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” a voice echoes from behind him, and my heart leaps when I realize it’s Rocco.
“You make one move towards me, and she gets it,” he says standing up slowly with me in front of him. The cold metal of the gun against my shoulder.
“You’re not going to get out of this alive,” Rocco says as Franco appears behind him. “Chicago and New York have already reached an accord. Your cousin Alisher is the new leader of the Bratva.”
“Impossible,” Andriy snarls.
“He’s already signed your death warrant. Even if you kill Sophia, you’re a dead man. There is no coming back.”
“Nothing to gain, nothing to lose,” Andriy says, laughing maniacally.
“Let her go, and I will talk to Alisher. I will reason with him.”
“You killed my father. I think we are beyond reasoning.” He spits.
“You hated him, don’t pretend otherwise.”
“I guess we have something in common then. Well, two things,” Andriy says, stroking my hair.
“Me and you couldn’t be more different. Drop the fucking gun,” Rocco says, raising his voice.
“Sure,” Andriy says mockingly. “You want me to fucking curtsytoo,” he sneers.
“Make him drop the gun, Soph,” Rocco says slowly, giving me a quick nod and I realize what he is referring to. The night we returned home from our honeymoon, he showed me how to disarm an attacker.
“What did you say to her?” Andriy says, looking at me startled.
“Now!” Rocco shouts as a flurry of gunshots goes off, ricocheting around the warehouse.
