Chapter 17

17

Max

W e’ve been making encouraging progress on our side of the problem. Ivan is following up on that intel regarding Shelby—unbeknownst to Lyric, of course.

We agreed that there’s no point in causing strife between the two women without any concrete proof. We need evidence that there’s an actual affair going on there. Fortunately, Ivan’s street connections are panning out, and we’ve got plenty of useful and discreet eyes focused on Phelps’s campaign.

Artur and I are having trouble getting the Bratva elders on board. Old man Larionov is adamant about marriage. We’ve had two conversations with him already, both in Polina’s absence, and both have ended in a stalemate and a promise to think about it some more. The other families are split evenly between the traditional ways and the new ways that we’re trying to implement.

“Unsurprisingly, it’s the younger generation that’s more eager to get on board,” Artur mutters as we drive through the city. Ivan is in the backseat, checking CCTV footage of Phelps’s office on his phone, having tapped into the system with Lyric’s remote help. “Amir, Vlad, the whole Petrovski clan, they’re all happy to try new business ventures.”

“They’re tired of having to clean up after these other relics,” Ivan says. “Gone are the days of making people disappear without a trace for the tiniest inconvenience or slight. It’s the age of the internet, fellas. It’s no longer easy for people to go missing with cameras everywhere.”

“That, and the fact that the Feds have gotten better at boxing us in,” I say. “It simply doesn’t work like it did in the old days, but we can’t exactly do everything we want to without the majority’s support.”

“Has Lyric said anything about Shelby lately?” Artur asks, changing the subject.

The neighborhood rises ahead, with Lyric’s apartment building sparkling against the sunset sky. I shake my head slowly.

“She hasn’t been saying much these days,” I reply.

“Yeah, she’s been quiet,” Ivan adds. “Not her usual self. I wonder what’s going on.”

“I don’t know. It’s what I’m hoping to figure out tonight.”

Artur gives me a worried look. “We’ve got eyes on the building, right?”

“Oh, definitely. We’re going through the back door anyway just to be safe.”

“We could’ve had dinner at the penthouse,” Ivan says.

“True, but Lyric never confirmed. So I figured we’d bring dinner to her instead.”

I can feel Artur and Ivan’s gazes drilling holes into my head. All I can do is let out a heavy sigh as I keep my eyes on the traffic. It was a last-minute decision and I’m not a fan of popping up unannounced either, but Lyric’s noticeable absence has me thinking unpleasant and confusing thoughts. I need to see her.

“Are we sure she’s home?” Ivan asks.

I nod again. “Yeah. The boys confirmed that her car is parked out front.”

Twenty minutes later, I park the SUV behind the apartment building. Ivan, Artur, and I sneak through the back door and make our way up, carefully checking every floor. There’s no sign of hidden agents lurking in the shadows, so we stop outside Lyric’s door and knock.

As soon as the door opens, the look on her face has my heart racing.

There is definitely something wrong.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asks, her bright blue eyes wider than ever. She nervously dips her head into the hallway. “Did anyone see you?”

“No, we’re in the clear. Provided you let us in,” I chuckle, trying to break the tension.

Lyric sighs and steps back. We walk in and make ourselves comfortable in the living room. Her laptop is on, lines of code running up the screen while a freshly brewed cup of tea rests beside it. I’m trying to analyze as much as possible before I shift my focus back to her. She’s nervous, that much is obvious.

“Okay, so what’s up?” Lyric asks, anxiously sitting in the armchair closest to the window, as if to keep a certain distance from us.

I don’t like it. Every second that passes adds tension, straining my nerves beyond their reasonable limits. “I could ask you the same thing,” I say, stealing a glance at Ivan and Artur. They’re quiet, watching her like hawks, but I know they see what I see. “We figured you were busy since you haven’t been very responsive lately. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, averting her eyes. It’s irritating. “Just busy, like you figured.”

“We could order in,” I say. “Maybe Chinese? You loved Zhang’s menu, didn’t you? The spring rolls were your favorite, if I remember correctly.”

She sighs heavily, finally gathering the nerve to look me in the eyes again. “I don’t think so. I still have work to do,” she says, pointing at her laptop.

“We’ll wait,” Ivan replies. The air thickens between us. I don’t like being lied to, but Ivan, he hates it. The slightest scent of a lie turns him inside out, transforming him into a bloodhound. He won’t let her be until she tells us what’s going on. “Unless you want to skip past the bullshit and tell us what’s really going on.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, her pitch subtly higher than usual.

“Lyric, we’re not idiots. There is clearly something affecting you,” I say, trying to remain as calm and as courteous as possible, even though my blood is starting to boil. “What is it?”

It takes a while for the words to come out but she finally says them.

“I think we need to take a break.”

My stomach feels heavy. Deep down, I think I saw it coming. The situation we’re dealing with was bound to lead us here, no matter how badly we wanted it to turn out differently.

“What is this about?” I ask, mustering every ounce of patience I have left.

Ivan leans back into the sofa, his eyes never leaving her. Artur shifts uncomfortably in his seat but stays quiet.

“A series of events, I guess,” Lyric replies. “Maybe I should’ve told you about it sooner, but I thought I could handle it on my own. I didn’t want to add more pressure to an already boiling pot.”

“What. Is. This. About?” I ask again, adding emphasis to each word.

She gives me a pained look. “Smith approached me outside the library last week. He warned me about you. Kept asking questions about the bail. I lied, obviously. I told him you paid me for an IT project in advance and you asked for that money back to cover Ivan’s bail because your accounts were frozen.”

“That obviously didn’t fly,” Artur mutters.

“No, it didn’t. But he didn’t have any proof against me, either. He had no choice but to leave me alone, for the time being.”

“You definitely should’ve told us about this sooner,” I say.

“That same day, my father asked to see me,” Lyric sighs heavily. “He also warned me about getting involved with you. It was an unpleasant conversation, but I pushed him away, telling him the same lie I told Smith. I’ll stick to it until the end of days, for what it’s worth.”

“With a little bit of luck, you won’t have to,” I try to sway her softly back to us. The mere thought of not having Lyric with us makes me feel unpleasant and uncomfortable things. I wasn’t ready for this, even though an inkling of it had been testing my thoughts since I noticed her distance in our text conversations. “Lyric, we’re close to getting the dirt we need on your father. That’s the first step in our crusade, and we’re almost there.”

“Polina also came to see me again.”

Ivan shakes his head slowly. “It never fucking stops, does it?”

“She was adamant that you and she are about to be married, reminding me that I don’t belong in your world, and that there will be consequences if I don’t back off. I know you don’t want it, but if Polina could track me down so easily, I reckon she can also make me disappear with a simple snap of her fingers, if I keep being an inconvenience to her plan.”

“She wouldn’t dare,” I say. “It would be the death of her.”

“I’ll wipe the Larionov’s out myself,” Ivan snaps.

Lyric frowns. “You wouldn’t be able to save me, though. You’d only be able to avenge me. What good will that do if I’m dead?”

Fucking hell. This conversation is the result of days’ worth of mulling it over for Lyric. It’s not a decision she made lightly, but I can tell from the look in her eyes that she has made up her mind, and it’s tearing her apart on the inside.

Her fingers quiver nervously over her knees. Her lips part slowly with each heavy breath. Tears glisten in her eyes as she tries not to look at us too much, knowing she might break down completely. I can almost feel her pain because it mirrors mine, and I know I’m not the only one who feels this way.

“We can protect you,” Artur says. “Now that we’ve been made aware, we can take precautions.”

“You’re fighting a difficult war already,” Lyric replies. “I’ll only hold you back. It’s not safe for you. I am your weakness and those around you are starting to pick up on it. It’s my fault. The minute I posted that bail, I knew we’d end up here, sooner or later.”

“Lyric don’t do this,” Ivan says. “We can work something out.”

“I’ll help however I can, remotely. I’ll help you take my father down,” Lyric sighs. “I’ll gather all the information we have so far and run it through the algorithm. I’ll give you the odds on every possible scenario until you have a solid strategy to win, but I need to keep my distance. I’m sorry.”

She is sorry. I know she is.

But it doesn’t stop my heart from bleeding with every beat as I stand up and give her a long, meaningful look. “Are you sure about this?” I ask in a low voice. “The last thing I want to do is keep you somewhere that doesn’t feel safe.”

“What are you doing?” Artur cuts in, clearly befuddled by my decision. “No, we have to—”

“We have to let Lyric decide,” Ivan cuts him off. He doesn’t like this either, but he’s following my lead as my brother has always done.

“I’m sorry you feel this way,” I tell her, working hard to keep an even tone and my eyes on hers without my soul twisting itself into an agonizing pretzel. “But if it’s what you want, we’ll oblige.”

“Honestly, it’s not what I want. However, it’s what needs to happen because they’re circling us like vultures, and it’s only a matter of time before one of them finds an opportunity to blow it all up,” she says.

I am at a loss for words. Every fiber in my body screams, begging me to fight for her, but I know and I understand where she’s coming from. Ivan and Artur can see it as well.

The truth is, we are fragile.

When we’re with Lyric, we’re fragile. Vulnerable. We let Bowman go because Smith paid her a distressing visit. Bowman. We had him, and we let him go. I should’ve known then that it would come back to bite us in the ass. And here we are.

As I walk out of Lyric’s apartment flanked by Artur and Ivan, I make it my mission to pay those fuckers in kind for everything they’ve done, for everything they tried to do, and for everything they’re about to do.

“We’re taking the war to them,” I state to my brother and best friend.

“Burn it all down,” Ivan agrees.