The single word detonated something feral in my chest.
“Do not fucking call me son,” I snarled, leaping to my feet, pacing now like a caged animal. “How dare you take my wife and my child from me?”
Silence.
Not dead air. Calculated silence. The kind that reminded you who truly held power.
Then Ruslan spoke—low, measured, lethal in its restraint.
“You will speak to me in a calm tone, Dmitri.”
“Not when you’ve locked my family inside your fortress,” I shot back. “Don’t overestimate yourself. I wiped out the other three families in Lake Como. I rule this territory now. I don’t think you want to test me.”
Another pause.
I dragged a hand through my hair, breath coming hard. “Do you want war, Ruslan? Because I will not sit here while you keep my wife and son from me. I won’t.”
“Again,” he said mildly, “you speak without respect. Once I end this call, you will not reach me again. Do not waste access.” A beat. “You know who I am. I can end you in under five minutes from where you stand. I am not your usual mafia boss. I rule continents.”
The truth of it landed like a blade between my ribs.
I swallowed, tasting blood where I’d bitten my cheek raw. Forced the rage down. Forced control.
“Fine,” I said, voice lower now, steadier. “How do I get my family back?”
“You will apologize to me.”
The word scraped my pride raw.
My hand curled into a fist. Every instinct screamed against it. I bit harder into my cheek, welcoming the pain.
“I’m sorry, Ruslan,” I ground out. “Now tell me how I get my wife and son.”
The pause that followed was longer this time—long enough that my pulse spiked, long enough for dread to creep in beneath the anger.
When he spoke again, his voice crackled faintly through the line—still calm, still unyielding, still absolute.
“Go to Greece.”
I stilled.
“My men will grant you safe passage,” he continued, “and ensure you are not... disrupted. You will arrive unarmed. Alone. You will not bring soldiers. You will not bring threats.”
I clenched my jaw but said nothing.
“Then,” Ruslan went on, “you will see if you are capable of earning her forgiveness.”
His voice hardened—not angry, but implacable.
“She left you because of how deeply you broke her, Dmitri. The pain you inflicted did not wound her—it shattered her. If you had a sister in Penelope’s position, you would advise her to do the same: run far and fast.”
Each word struck like a hammer.
“I will not allow you to take her or the child by force,” he said. “Ever. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not under any circumstance.”
My chest heaved. “And if she refuses to see me?”
“Then you leave.”