Chapter 81 — The Russian Mobster's Daughter

New York.

MYKAELA.

"He's one of the Božićs' hitmen."

"A soulless killer..."

"He tried to kill Lorenzio and Cloe Falco."

"Stay away from him."

The words echoed in my head as I sat next to the labeled shelves stacked with medical supplies. A bunch of sterile masks, surgical gloves, gauze pads, and other boxed supplies. The floor reeked of disinfectant, and I didn't know why I chose this old, small, and dimly lit supply room. But it provided a moment of peace and solitude amid the chaos outside.

I leaned against the metal shelf with my legs crossed, my right hand clutching my phone, days-old anxiety gnawing at my insides. The chilly night seemed to seep through the cracks in the door. But it was the mounting uncertainty that made me shiver, almost paralyzing me with a slew of dark thoughts.

Lorenzio wasn't answering my texts and calls, probably still stuck in his private room in Eastside Regional, imprisoned by the relentless disease that had gripped the city. He was getting weaker by the day, and his doctors couldn't provide any reassuring updates.

It felt like a dark cloud had settled over me. My last nine calls to him went unanswered, fueling my desperation and fear.

The shrill ring of my phone startled me. The screen showed an unregistered number. I answered the call with a glimmer of hope, grateful for the distraction. "Who's this?"

"Kel, you okay? It's Nicco." Niccolo's baritone voice crackled through the line, his words laced with concern.

"Hi, Nicco." I smiled briefly at his question. We saw each other in person only a handful of times. Although he probably didn't think I was a real friend, I couldn't help but feel like he was my unlikely ally the past two years.

We didn't have the chance to foster a closer relationship like the friendship Miles and I had, but Niccolo had pulled me out of a few tight spots in the past. I owed him favors, and I could trust him with my secrets, which was a rare thing in my life these days.

I sat up straight and took a deep breath. "I'm in the hospital. Taking a break. You okay?"

"I'm good. Hey. Lorenzio's not answering his phone. Where is he?"

"Oh. Are you trying to contact him?" Why? It must be late wherever Niccolo was right now.

"Yeah." Niccolo sighed. "He asked for my help, said he needs to find someone in Rome."

Alodia.

I scratched my nape. "I dunno. He's probably sleeping. Or the medical staff took him out of the room for some tests or... I don't know, really. Enzo's not answering my texts and calls." I stared at the floor. Silence followed, heavy and quite tense. I could almost feel Niccolo's mind racing on the other end of the line.

"Weird. I'll text you if he responds to my messages."

"Okay." I crossed my fingers, making up a quick prayer in my head, my intrusive thoughts all menacing. "Hey. You know anything about the main suspects in that ambush? In Umbria? The masked men with the tattoos?"

"I know of them. Why?" Niccolo murmured, his tone cautious.

"We, uh, just treated a Russian patient who came in a few hours ago, in the ER."

"Yeah?"

"Lorenzio's bodyguard told me that the guy's one of the hidden who tried to kill Enzo and Cloe that morning." I still didn't know how Lele could have caused the Russian man's road accident, but right now I'd rather not know any details. For my own sake. My brain needed sleep and proper rest, no longer eager to collect and store more information I didn't know how to handle.

"What's he look like?" Niccolo's voice lowered, a tone that seemed to match our serious conversation. "The Russian. Age. Inks. Whatever stands out."

I covered my mouth and nearly shuddered, recalling the intimidating presence of that Russian guy. "Tall, broad shoulders. Light brown hair. Black and brown snake tattoos on his arms, hands, neck. Big scar on the right side of his face."

"Ah. It's Vlad."

Vlad? Oh shoot. It was the same name Lele mentioned earlier. "Who is he? Is he from Belgrade, too?"

"I'm not sure. That guy's an ex-con." Niccolo spoke in a hushed tone. "He's one of Ilya's most trusted, Kel."

Shit.

"I bet he's there in New York 'cause someone told him to find you. Magnus or Alex must've paid him quite a lot."

Alex? My half-brother? Ilya's second son?

I gripped my phone near my face, my heartbeat racing. Hearing Ilya's name again just made my whole body tense up. The fact that he was still a looming presence in my life was unsettling, to say the least. But the likelihood that my own brother wanted to have me kidnapped terrified me more. "Where's Ilya right now?"

"Stuck in his overpriced mansion."

"In Belgrade?"

"Yeah," Nicco replied. "Still waiting for a compatible donor. A new one. Where's Vlad now?"

"I... He's..." I swallowed, my throat feeling dry and tight all of a sudden. "He's dead." I closed my eyes. I didn't know why the man's features were quite hazy in my mind. I didn't get the chance to ask him if he knew Ilya Božić personally. But I had a feeling he would've lied to me about it.

"Enzo's bodyguard took care of it?" Niccolo murmured on the other end.

"No." Should I tell him Lele might have something to do with the Russian man's death? "Cardiac arrest, and multiple organ failure."

"Good."

I took a deep breath. A heavy silence filled the line, my insides clenching at the implications of what Niccolo just revealed. "You think he was..."

"What?"

"You think he, um, came here to kidnap me?" Vlad, the Russian patient whose corpse was in the morgue now, could've been stalking me for days like Lele imagined.

"It's not unlikely." Niccolo cleared his throat. "He didn't rot in prison 'cause someone pulled some strings. My guess is it's one of Ilya's political connections."

"Maybe." I closed my eyes and restrained the urge to kick the shelf in front of me, trying my best to calm my racing pulse and heartbeat. I swiped my palm over my face. Cold sweat dampened my forehead. My heart hammered in my chest.

Okay. Clearly, my issues with my estranged father were far from over. The web of danger and family secrets entangling me was only growing tighter, and I was no longer the unwitting prey. I was a player in a dangerous game, and the stakes had never been higher.

"Hey." Niccolo's voice was tinged with urgency now. "Be careful. Stay there. Stay off social media. I'll call you back once I have more info."

"Okay. Thanks," I said before ending the call. I slipped my phone into my pocket, my hands trembling a bit.

Lorenzio's condition, the Russian hitman's sudden death, and the thought of Ilya and my half-brother sending his thugs here to kidnap me...

They all coiled together into a suffocating sense of dread. I felt like the walls were closing in on me, the chilling reality of my situation pressing against my consciousness. Right now I could only hope Ilya wouldn't be alive long enough to cause more chaos in my life and the Falcos' businesses.

***

I itched the sweaty skin around the edge of my mask as I strolled into the hospital parking lot. It was usually a place of chaotic transition. Shrill, alarming sirens of ambulances often added to the ominous atmosphere, a stark reminder of the city's grim trajectory and haunting reality.

Tonight, though, it seemed deserted, as if this part of the city had ground to a halt. Most of the parking slots were poorly lit by the dim glow of streetlights and the occasional flashing ambulance. As I walked past a row of cars with my phone in my pocket, my breath formed foggy clouds in the cold air.

My phone had become my lifeline, and I clutched it to my thigh, patiently waiting for Enzo to call me back. My eyes were glued to the screen as I checked the notifications.

Darn it. Still no new texts from him.

Worry and panic clawed at me, but I had to stay hopeful. Since he was being closely monitored in another hospital, I'd expected that communication from his end might be delayed and intermittent. Deep down, though, I knew something was wrong.

Almost eleven hours had passed without a word from him. My thoughts were going down a rabbit hole, overrun with fear and uncertainty. His voice echoed in my head, his labored breathing, his murmured reassurances that he'd pull through...

But he was a fighter. He wouldn't give up that easily. This virus was unpredictable, but his doctors were doing everything they could. I hoped and prayed Enzo would recover this week.

I loosened the fit of my mask as I paced in the corner of the parking lot. My thoughts swirled in a sea of guilt, worry, and what-ifs, and I knew I couldn't simply sleep it off.

Then, out of the shadows, a tall figure emerged behind a familiar car—Enzo's car. It was a guy wearing combat boots. About six feet tall. Black leather jacket.

Gabriele.

I let out a sigh. It was a good thing that he did his job as discreetly as possible. My colleagues and the hospital's security personnel might think he was a stalker, or an obsessive helicopter boyfriend who couldn't stand letting me out of his sight for more than five minutes.

"You alright, Miss?" Lele took a few steps closer as I approached the backseat of Enzo's car.

I nodded after hesitating for a moment. "Where's your boss?" I sighed again. "He's not answering his phone."

Lele opened the door for me, the bandages around his hand still clean.

"Still in the hospital?" I asked in a slightly louder voice. The last time Enzo and I talked on the phone, he sounded like he was coughing up a lung, his voice hoarse and weak. It just left a huge knot in my stomach. "He's not replying to my texts, either."

While his blue eyes held my attention, Lele held the door open, his stern face only heightening my unease. He itched and pinched his earlobe.

I frowned. I knew what it meant, but I didn't know why exactly he was doing it. "What?" I glanced at the dim and empty backseat. "Something wrong?"

"Don't panic," he muttered, his voice drifting off to mumbling noises.

Panic? "What d'you mean?" I held my breath, waiting for an explanation, my throat aching at his somber expression.

"They transferred him."

Oh no.

"Boss is in the ICU," Lele said after what felt like an eternity.

I blinked. I froze in front of him, then slid into the backseat when my knees buckled. The ground felt like it shifted beneath my feet. A wave of nausea just hit me. I took off my mask.

Words wanted to slip out of my mouth, but they seemed to hang in the cold night air freezing my throat. Something just stuck a knife through my heart, and I couldn't breathe. "When?" I choked out. I clutched my phone on my tense stomach, my intakes of breath shallow, my knuckles pale.

Lele avoided my eyes. "Two hours ago."

"But I thought... They... What happened?" I stared at his stubbled face and weary gaze, unshed tears burning the back of my eyes. "W-What else did they say?"

"He's in a coma."