Just tonight. I would ignore the tiny voice in my head screaming at me that something was wrong for one more day. Tomorrow, I’d demand we talk. I just needed another day.
22
KIRILL
SEVEN YEARS AGO
Idrove my wreck of a car into the city. It was late, but there was still traffic. Woodhaven was the wealthiest suburb of New York and so highly priced because you could be in city limits in an hour. Tonight, I cut that in half.
The night seemed colder than usual when I made my way to the warehouse my father used as a stopping point for his various unsavory businesses. Gravel crunched underfoot, and my breath fogged the still night air.
Inside was colder, if that was possible, and smelled dank and lifeless. I slipped quietly past gaping black doorways and made my way along the hall toward the sound of male voices. Tension cramped my guts as I reached the threshold of a barren room, empty except for a desk in the middle with a metal chair.
My father sat behind it.
My father, the man my mother had run from when I was a child. The man she succeeded in hiding me from for years. But he’d found us.
My father, the criminal.
The killer.
The kingpin.
Viktor Chernov, head of the most brutal Bratva New York had ever seen. The ruthless brotherhood ruled their domain with an iron fist. Woodhaven was a little outside their playground, yet Henry Madison liked to gamble with the big boys in the city.
His men stood around him, like always. Since I’d been away at college, he’d started coming around. The sudden appearance of his men had been the first sign of his arrival—thugs with knuckle and neck tattoos and dead eyes showing up on campus, watching me. Always watching. I’d known Viktor Chernov had finally decided to pay attention to me.
The first time we’d met in person a few months back had been like meeting a stranger. In my memory, he had been so big and frightening. A bear of a man. He was still tough-looking, with his shaved head, tattoos, and massive shoulders. But he’d lost the enormous proportions my childhood eyes remembered. He was just a man—one who was growing older.
“Kirill. I’m happy to see you, son.” His accent was thick.
He was first generation Russian, coming to America when Moscow’s lawless 90s had been in full swing. It was a time when the most violent and cruel had used their natural abilities to rise to the top, and my father was well-suited for that kind of chaos. Now, he used the same strong-arm tactics.
“Do you want something from me, or have you finally decided to consider my offer and become the Chernov man you were born to be?” he asked with a mocking tone to his voice. He held all the cards and I, none.
“It’s Lewis. My last name is Lewis,” I said quietly. It felt important to cling to the parts that belonged to me, not him. I’d known for a long time that Lewis wasn’t the name on my birth certificate, yet I couldn’t bring myself to accept my father’s ownership of me. “You said I could always come to you if I needed help,” I said stiffly.
Viktor nodded, his shrewd eyes narrowing.“Of course, but first, greet your father, Kirill.”
There was a quiet command in his voice. I could argue about the name, but tonight, I needed something from him. I’d learned to pick my battles carefully when interacting with Viktor Chernov.
I moved forward under the blank gazes of the men standing around us. They wore identical, unreadable expressions. Viktor stood as I approached and ran his eyes over me. Weighing. Assessing. He calculated my worth with that look. He clapped his hands around my cheeks and turned my face to press a kiss against one cheek and then the other. His heavy hands made my skin crawl. There was something horribly dominant about his touch—a reminder that he could do what he wanted to me, and there was nothing I could do about it.
He slapped his hand hard on my shoulder, and his thick lips curved into a smirk. He was so close that his fetid breath blew in my face.“Tell me what brings you to my door, son.”
“There’s a man I think owes you money. Henry Madison,” I said in a rush. I needed to get it together. My father scented weakness like blood in the water and wouldn’t hesitate to go in for the kill. His eyebrow raised. He nodded for me to continue. “I need you to forgive his debt.” Viktor whistled.
“A big ask. A big ask indeed. For whom have you indebted yourself to me? You know this man?”
“Indebted myself?” I repeated hollowly. Of course, it would come to this. I had known it would. Men like Viktor Chernov didn’t do favors for anyone without expecting repayment.
“Nothing is free in this world, Kirill, and Madison owes us a substantial sum.”
“I’ll pay you back. I’ll find a way. I just need time.”
Viktor chuckled darkly like I’d said the funniest thing he’d ever heard.“I do not need your money. You know what I want.”
I shook my head firmly. “I would be grateful for your help, but I don’t want this life. I have other plans. Things I’ve worked for—”