“No.”
“What’s the problem, then?” demanded Enrico.
Giovanni’s jaw clenched and his green eyes flashed angrily. “No problem at all.”
“Do we have any other information on Sofia Volkov’s daughter?” Marchetti’s words had my full attention.
“I do.” My eyes narrowed on Aiden. He better not be stalking my target, or I’d pull out all his fucking teeth and make him look like a ninety-year-old man. My darkness was tempted by hers, and while a sane person would reason it was a recipe for disaster, I wouldn’t argue. “I haven’t validated the source yet.” Awkward silence surrounded our pew. Most men here wanted to end Sofia Volkov and anything she represented, including her kin.
I, on the other hand, had an entirely different revenge plan in place—one that needed Liana alive.
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense, dear brother,” one of the Callahan twins muttered.
“There was an explosion a few days ago in D.C., a car bomb apparently. A setup by Perez Cortes targeted at Sofia Volkov.”
The news hit me like a sledgehammer, my chest twisting painfully while I kept my expression blank.
“We need to get our hands on her daughter,” Marchetti gritted. He’d had a chip on his shoulder—much like the rest of us—ever since Sofia tortured his wife. “And I don’t want my wife knowing about it.”
“It would give us leverage,” Aiden agreed. “Except she’s dead.” When everyone’s eyes snapped to him, he explained, “A burnt body was found in the explosion, identified as Liana Volkov.”
Tense silence followed, but it had nothing to do with the holy establishment we were in.
“Why would Perez want her dead? He had a business relationship with her mother.” Kian voiced the question everyone was thinking. Except I knew the answer: Liana tampered with Perez’s business. Sofia might have refused to admit it, but Perez clearly saw the truth.
Guilt squeezed my chest, tightening my throat. I should have grabbed Liana the minute I saw her alive and breathing, careful planning be damned.
Aiden shrugged. “No idea.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Kian’s brow creased. “Just twenty-four hours ago, he announced a flesh auction with Liana Volkov being presented for sale. If the fetched price isn’t adequate, he’ll use the Marabella Mobster arrangements.” My eyes sharpened and a red alert shot through me. Perez wouldn’t be so stupid. “Why would he rally buyers if she was dead?”
“If she’s alive, we need to get our hands on her,” Marchetti hissed. “I want leverage on her bitch mother.”
I jumped to my feet and left the church without another word, then typed out a message to my brother Winston.
He promised me his jet months ago. I was about to take him up on it and disappear again.
The moment I entered my flat, I really wished I hadn’t.
My brothers stood around my space like judges, juries, and executioners. And they wasted no time descending on me like goddamned flies. The only one who stood casually, taking no part in this, was Alessio, my eldest, illegitimate brother. In fact, he looked like he’d rather not be here at all.
“I hear you have a girl,” Royce blurted out, grinning like a fool. “An actual girl, not a blow-up doll.”
I side-eyed him. He might have some freaky tendencies, but I didn’t. “I don’t,” I deadpanned, flicking a glance at Winston.
“I didn’t tell him a thing,” he grumbled.
“It’s true,” Royce agreed. “It was Aurora.” I would need to have a conversation with my sister about details that should never be shared with my brothers, especially Royce. “And I saw the warning you made public, saying a certain woman is off-limits.”
Because I made a promise, I thought silently. There was nothing more to it. That little moment of shared passion was insignificant. Liar! The devil and angel on my shoulder called bullshit.
“I’m really worried about you,” Byron interjected, always the protective big brother. “You shouldn’t go after Sofia Volkov alone. She’s dangerous, and we don’t want anything to happen to you. At least let us help.”
“I work better alone.” It was the truth. Besides, I’d done unimaginable things while my brothers killed for our country. Well, except for Alessio. He’d endured some shit too, but I didn’t know him well enough to accept his offer of help.
“You think you could figure out who this belongs to?” Royce asked, ignoring my non-answer and pulling a bloody bag with a body part from his pocket.
“What the fuck?” Winston growled. “Is that a finger?”
Alessio shook his head. “You’re a sick motherfucker, Royce.”
Byron looked at his watch. “Well, Royce. You started this shit, getting us all to come here. Now say your piece, and do something with that bloody finger so we can all get back to our lives.”
“I was in Venezuela for a business trip.” My eyebrows shot up, but I didn’t say anything. “On my last day there, I found this in my hotel fridge.”
“Jesus,” Byron muttered. “Why didn’t you call the local police?”
That would make sense for my brothers who were, for the most part, law-abiding citizens, but nothing Royce did made sense. “And the local police is corrupt as fuck there.”
Without a look in Royce’s direction, I asked, “And you thought you should bring it to me, why?”
“Because it was addressed to the Ghost. Or Kingston Ashford.”
The tension amplified, something shifting in the air. I reached for it and made my way to the freezer. Once I threw it in an empty spot, I turned around and faced them all.
“Next time, write an email. And don’t bring me body parts,” I snapped. “Unless they’re teeth.”
“Jesus, here we go,” Winston grumbled. “Just don’t do it in front of Billie. She’s still scared to be around you.” Byron leaned against the wall, not in any hurry to shut Royce up. “But if you want to end our crazy brother,” Winston continued, giving a pointed look at Royce, “I’ll help you bury the body.”
“I won’t need help,” I said, my words reverberating off the walls.
Royce grinned. “You wish you were that good.”
“I am.” There was no boasting in my voice. In order to survive under Sofia’s and Ivan’s thumbs, I had to become the best in everything. I had to become a living nightmare.
Strained silence reigned for a moment, then Royce’s booming laughter filled the space. He was the only one who saw humor in everything. It was enough to drive anyone insane.
“Body part aside, what are you all really doing here?” I asked.
“Why is there a bullet in the headboard of your bed?” Byron changed subjects.
“Why were you in my bedroom?”
“Royce was convinced you were hiding from us,” he deadpanned.
Disbelief had me angling my head and crossing my arms. “In the bedroom?”
Sometimes having brothers sucked. They were so fucking nosy. I didn’t even know how they’d gathered this latest information. It was the reason I rarely stayed in D.C. and had properties around the world that nobody knew about.
My expression blank, I let my eyes roam over each of my siblings. “Want to check out my bathrooms too?”
Winston folded his arms and declared, “Too late, Royce has already been there and done that.”
“Privacy must be an unfamiliar concept,” I deadpanned, narrowing my eyes on my brother. “When I agreed to getting this place, you all promised me my privacy,” I reminded them. “The keys I made for you are for emergencies only.”
“Most of us didn’t go snooping around your penthouse.” Alessio regarded me with a dry expression. Then he narrowed his eyes on Royce. “Only the guy with the finger in his pocket did.”
“Nobody was snooping,” Royce corrected him. “We wanted to clean it for you.”
“Would you shut the fuck up about the snooping and cleaning?” Winston drawled, rolling a cigarette between his fingers.