Chapter 173

“We’re not friends, Cian.”

“But Wren and I are,” he insists. “And I don’t want this escalating any more than it already has.”

Gritting my teeth, I decide to wait a little longer. Hear him out. “You’d better talk fast. My finger is starting to slip.”

“I’ve been working with Vittorio⁠—”

“No shit, mudak. I already got the memo. If this is the information you’re about to offer me like it’s worth something, I’ve got news for you: it’s worth absolutely fuck-all.”

Cian sighs and leans forward, his skin rippling in divots around the mouth of my weapon. “The alliance with the Italians wasn’t my doing, Dmitri. It was completely out of my hands.”

“You’re trying to blame this on Cathal?”

“Only because it’s true! Vittorio approached Cathal years ago. Back when you were still married to… Elena.” His voice dips when he says her name, like he’s keenly aware of just how sensitive a trigger that is for me.

For a moment, I genuinely consider unloading my clip in his smug face.

But instead, I think about Wren. I remember that she’s out in the world with our son—and suddenly, the timing of Cian’s visit feels awfully coincidental.

I don’t believe in coincidences.

“Why would Vittorio approach Cathal when he had already formed an alliance with me?”

“Because he wanted you to believe he was a friend so that you’d never suspect who he was really working for: himself. Vittorio Zanetti has only ever worked for himself, Dmitri.” Cian clears his throat and I find my gun hand lowering. “The alliance he made with you only showed him how powerful you were. He didn’t like playing second fiddle and he didn’t like taking the smaller percentages, the scraps, the pity and disrespect. So he decided to take you down without risking the alliance he had brokered with you. He went to my brother, who was just the right combination of bloodthirsty and stupid to agree to the plan.”

“A plan that involved murdering my wife, you mean.”

Cian cringes; he’s sweating from the temples now. His blue eyes are clouded and his voice trembles when he speaks. “It was obvious that she was your biggest weakness. Vittorio was trying to pave the way for a future match between you and Bee.”

I swallow and turn around. It’s not only what he’s saying, which makes too much sense to be denied; it’s also the way he says it. Cold and calm and unblinking.

He means it.

Every word of it.

I’ve been after the wrong man.

“Yes, he managed to get rid of Elena,” continues Cian. “But you went after Cathal in revenge. You succeeded, and that left Vittorio’s hands tied. He had to amend the plan⁠—”

“Meaning what?” I snarl, whirling around to face the Irishman again. “He came to you?”

“A year ago,” he confirms. “And I turned him down.”

I raise my eyebrows skeptically. “You honestly expect me to believe that?”

“I can only hope you do, because it’s the truth.” His voice catches. “I’m… I’m not like my brother, Dmitri. I didn’t inherit the bloodthirstiness that he did. My intention was to keep our businesses running and keep my men employed. Apart from that, I wanted a quiet life. A safe one.”

I frown, recalling something that Wren said to me a long time ago. Something I had failed—no, something I had refused to listen to.

“… someone’s pulling his strings, Dmitri. He’s not the one calling the shots… I don’t think he wants to do any of this…”

“Well, clearly, you changed your mind,” I point out. “You agreed to work with Vittorio.”

“Because he threatened my life, my men’s lives,” Cian says without shame. “And yeah, I caved because… well, call me a coward, but I actually do want to live.” He squares his jaw and looks me in the eye. “But I’ve seen too many innocent people get caught in the crosshairs of cruel and ambitious men’s games. I’m done standing on the sidelines and watching it happen.”

My heart thuds in my chest. Every beat hurts worse than the last.

“If Vittorio finds out you’ve come to me, he’ll kill you.”

Cian nods. “Like I said, I’m not about to stand by and watch bad things happen to good people. And Wren is a good person.”

That sends a shiver straight to my heart. “He’s planning something,” I guess. “Isn’t he?”

I don’t wait for an answer; I turn to my desk and snatch my phone, cursing a soft stream in Russian under my breath. I dial Bee and wait.

Cian is still talking—about the wedding, about Vittorio’s plans for Bee, about his rage and his spite and all the things I have seen for far too long as nothing but petty, minor irritation—and the phone in my ear keeps ringing, and ringing, and ringing, and ringing, and ringing…

Then it clicks.

I look up into Cian’s pale blue eyes as the other end of the call opens with a torrent of engines roaring and wind screaming and Bee crying out, “… He’s got her, Dmitri, I’m so sorry, I lost them, they were speeding through traffic, I lost them, that bastard, my fucking father. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…”

The phone slips from my frozen hands and clatters on the desk. “You want me to trust you?” I croak to Cian. “Here’s your chance.”

46

WREN

Vittorio gives me a salacious smile as I try to soothe Mischa.

“Shhh, little one,” I coo softly. “It’s gonna be alright. You’re safe. I’m here.”

He chuckles. “We start lying to our children so young, don’t we? And we don’t even realize it.”

“I will do whatever it takes to keep him safe,” I spit with a vicious glare in his direction. “You’re not hurting my son that easily.”

“Don’t you worry; I have my sights set on a much bigger Egorov than the little runt in your arms.”

“Is that meant to be reassuring?”

“I can understand that you’re angry, tesoro, but it’s no use being angry at me. Dmitri’s the one you should blame. It was careless of him to leave you out in the open for anyone to just… take. Plucked like a ripe strawberry right off the vine.”

“I’m not some object to be taken as and when you please.”

He chuckles again, a harsh, grating sound like hot oil poured over broken glass. “And yet here you are.”

I bite my tongue. Hard as it is, I swallow my insults and focus again on trying to get Mischa to settle down. But no matter how much I murmur and rock and hum, his cries only get louder.

Eventually, I give into the one thing I know will calm him, as much as I don’t want to partially undress in front of Bee’s sick fuck of a father. I do my best to twist away as I ease Mischa into nursing position at my breast.

The whole time, I can feel Vittorio’s eyes locked on us. He doesn’t even pretend to look away.

“Do you mind?” I snap.

“Don’t be shy. Your son needs to be fed. Do as nature intended.”

Fucking pervert. I ignore him as Mischa latches. Instantly, he quiets down and I stroke his cheek gently, hoping to God that Bee saw what happened and that she has eyes on us.

“I can see why he chose you,” Vittorio remarks as his lips curl up into more of that same unsettling smile. “A nice, normal woman without any unnatural proclivities.”