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She got away from him.
And didn’t come back to me.
Luka grabs my arm before I can hit the lieutenant again. “Enough, Anton. You’ll kill him.”
I jerk away, chest heaving, and stare at the lieutenant. His jaw is swelling and blood trickles from his split lip, but he’s grinning up at me like a madman, teeth cracked and reddened.
“She left you,” he rasps. “She’s gone. Just like all the others. You’re alone again, Ulianov!”
“What do you know?” I roar as I lunge for him.
Luka’s arms lock around me, holding me back. “Boss! Get a hold of yourself!”
I struggle against his grip, rage blinding me, but Luka’s grip is strong against my wounded body. He drags me away from the asshole, who is cackling behind us. Ivan watches silently, not interfering. He’ll kill the man or let him live, depending on my instruction. But Luka is stopping me.
Why the fuck is he stopping me?
“Let me go,dolboyob!” I shout, even as Luka hauls me up the stairs and slams the cellar door shut. I pound my fist against it as if I can break through. As if I can get back to the fucker and tear him apart, limb from limb.
“Anton.” Luka’s voice is firm. “Calm yourself.”
I whirl on him, chest heaving. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“You were about to kill him,” Luka says evenly. “We need him alive. He has more information, and we need it. Do you want Niko and Scarlett back or not?”
Niko. Scarlett.
Their names hit me like a knife to the chest, and I suck in a sharp breath.
Luka studies me, eyes narrowing. “You care for her.” It isn’t a question.
I look away, my jaw clenched. Caring for Scarlett will only lead to ruin. But he’s right. I do care for her.
“I’ll track down Niko. You find her,” I tell Luka, my voice rough. “Do whatever it takes.”
Luka inclines his head. “Yes, boss.”
He leaves me alone in the foyer, staring at the cellar door. My chest feels hollow, my hands shaking. Scarlett escaped Volkov’s men…and didn’t come back here.
She ran. Why the fuck did she run?
Probably because she thought she’d die here, you idiot.
She’s most likely right.
Doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.
Hurt? Why the fuck am I thinking this way?
When Luka returns hours later, I’m back in my study with a half-empty bottle of whisky in front of me. Every resource I’ve ever had is working toward finding my son. And heads will roll if I don’t get some answers.
Luka clears his throat, and I look up at him. There’s a crease between his brows. Never a good sign.
“Well?” My voice is sharp. “What did you learn?”
Luka hesitates. “Volkov’s man didn’t have much more to add, but I put some feelers out on the street. There’s a lot more to Scarlett’s story than we realized,bratok,” he finally says. I tilt my head, encouraging him to continue.
He clears his throat again. “Scarlett Jones is a thief…a cat burglar. She’s wanted by Interpol, among others. She was recently implicated in a major jewel heist.”
