“Oh, you need one?” Her voice dripped with scorn. In my mind, I offered him several, ranging from sheer incompetence to spinelessness. And a touch of desperation.
“Yes,” he replied, hanging on with absurd determination.
“Tell me my favorite color.” She crossed her arms.
“Pink, of course,” he replied, visibly pleased with himself.
I had to stifle a scoff.
She scoffed, a reaction I shared. “And you need a reason? Purple, Lucas. Purple is my favorite color.”
Disbelief flickered through me. If her top wasn’t even her favorite color, she was as dense as he was. She left him there, striding away with an air of finality.
I took another drag, the smoke forming a screen between me and the scene as a figure neared from the distance. Matvet, one of my most trusted men, walked toward me. He was on a phone call, and when he reached me, he hung up.
“I’ve found a lead,” he announced. With those words, hope sparked in my chest. “Marco has a girlfriend.”
Finally, a crack in the shadows that had settled over me. Marco, the slippery bastard with ties to the killer, had vanished like smoke. But his girlfriend opened a whole new approach.
“Change of plans,” I said, relishing the words. “He will come to me.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Get me her name,” I said.
The enemy’s friends, girlfriends, or whatever they called themselves, were all fair game.
Matvet glanced at his wristwatch. “It seems like Roman won’t come.”
Running the Konstantinov Bratva in three states didn’t mean we couldn’t show our respects to the dead. Dmitri had appeared, albeit briefly. However, Roman disappeared on the night of their deaths. Revenge was long overdue.
As I slipped into the driver’s seat, my mind shifted to the image of blood, the only thing that would bring me peace. Seeing red was my favourite sight. But I admit the evening sun, casting a golden light that washed over everything, was a fleeting beauty.
Chapter Two
Alessia
I weaved through the tablesof the restaurant with a shopping bag in hand. Billie Eilish’s song, Bad Guy, pumped through my earphones. It was like my private soundtrack. Each step I took matched the rhythm, lifting my mood and making the mundane seem cinematic. People crowded the tables mid-conversation. Others clinked glasses, and soft laughter created a comforting hum around me.
My best friend, Carina, waved at me from a cozy spot by the window, adjusting her eyeglasses with a bright grin. I was late again, something she’d come to expect.
Her signature brown curls bounced with every move as she stood to hug me, her dark skin glowing in the soft light filtering through the window. At 5’7”, she had an undeniable presence, a model’s grace that turned heads, with striking brown eyes.
I dropped into the chair across from her as I placed the white shopping bag on my lap, still bopping my head to the music.
Carina’s mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear her words beneath my earphones. She snapped her fingers in front of me, her brows knitted in frustration. Grinning, I slid out one earbud, finally granting her the attention she demanded.
“Talking to me?” I teased, eyes dancing.
She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her cola, setting the bottle down just as I snatched it. I sipped from her straw, careful to avoid smudging my lipstick.
Clearing my throat, I leaned in, excitement bubbling inside me. “Guess who showed up at the cafe today?”
“Please don’t tell me it’s Lucas again.” Carina’s voice was laced with dread, but a smile tugged at her lips.
I shook my head, the grin still plastered on my face. “Would I be smiling like this if it were him?”
Her laughter was warm as she removed her eyeglasses. “Alright, spill the tea.”