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He’s beet red and probably on the verge of passing out. “No! No, this isn’t right!” He turns to his once-loyal men and snarls. “A million dollars each?I’ll give you two!”
“And how exactly are you going to come up with that kind of money?” I ask smugly.
Levitsky’s no longer paying attention to me, instead trying to garner sympathy with his turncoats. “Think of the end game,” he rasps. “Once we’ve taken all of Moscow, I’ll have an endless supply of money. I’ll make you all infinitely richer. Just think of it! One lump sum payment, or riches for the rest of your lifetimes!”
The guards are unmoved.
“I’d rather get paid now,” one of them says. There’s a murmur of agreement.
A smile stretches across my face. “It’s nothing personal,” I echo his words. “It’s just business.”
“No!” he roars. “No!”
“What are your orders, sir?” one of the men asks me.
“Bind him.”
“Fuck you, Antonov!”
“And gag him. His voice is giving me a headache.”
“Should we take him out, sir?”
I shake my head, studying Levitsky for a moment. I hate this man to my very core. For a moment, I genuinely consider putting him out of his misery. But I also recognize that Levitsky is a wealth of information. He was able to plant his spies amidst our people, chip away slowly at our territory… I could learn a thing or two from him, but I can’t do that if he’s dead. There’s no guarantee he’ll cooperate, but much like my dear Uncle Konstantin, arrangements can be made to convince him otherwise. Only once he’s outlived his usefulness will I consider a more permanent end.
“No,” I tell them. “He lives. For now.”
“Then what should we do with him?”
“We’re taking him to The Pit.”
Chapter 43
Dimitri
She just reached out to me. She’s on her way back to the house with Simon.
I’m pretty sure I break over a dozen driving violations as I make my way back to Mikhail’s house after reading his text. A smart man wouldn’t drive this recklessly, speeding well over the posted speed limit and merging in and out of traffic like a madman, but I’m desperate.
I need to see them.
My car jumps the curb and nearly takes out Mikhail’s shrubbery. I make a mental note to apologize later. I bound up the front steps to the house, shove the door open, and practically trip over my own two feet in my haste to get inside.
“Natalya!” I roar.
“We’re in the living room!”
I’m a wound-up ball of stress and nerves, every muscle fiber in my body drawn so tight I’m afraid I’ll snap at every joint. But the second I step into the living room, my eyes are immediately drawn to Natalya’s familiar silhouette and the bundle wrapped in her arms. She’s sitting on the couch, pressing sweet kisses to Simon’s cheeks, her hair curtaining one side of her face. The large window behind them casts sunshine against their backs, almost illuminating them in their own halo of afternoon rays.
My legs are jelly as I approach. Wordlessly, I sit next to her and instinctively wrap an arm around her waist. Aurora and Mikhail are seated together on the loveseat across from us with big smiles, but I pay them no mind. All I care about is what’s right in front of me: the two loves of my life.
“How is he?” I ask, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. I close my eyes and drink in the smell of rose petals.
“Totally fine,” she confirms with a soft smile.
I sigh in relief, the weight of the world suddenly lifting off my shoulders. Slowly, I reach out and stroke my son’s brown hair. He coos, peering up at us none the wiser. “I bet he thought it was some grand adventure,” I joke. “A mini-vacation.”
Natalya grins.
