65. Mikhail

As soon as Alyona and Anzhelina died, I had the house destroyed. I could have repaired the bullet holes and replaced the bloody carpets, but I never would have walked the halls of that house without seeing their bodies. Without smelling gunpowder in the air. The house had to be razed into nonexistence.

But while the building was reduced to rubble and carted away, the property itself remained in Novikov control. For the same reason I couldn't live in the house, I didn't keep up with what happened to the land. It's not like I wanted to go for picnics on the ground where my family had been slaughtered. My idea of a relaxing afternoon wasn't strolling alone around the lawn where I once imagined my daughter growing up.

While I was busy blocking that nightmare from my memory, my father decided to make good use of my tragedy.

And apparently, he has a sick sense of irony.

The wrought-iron gates are rusted, the hinges barely clinging to the rest of the fence. It doesn't look like anyone has touched them since I tore down the driveway and left this place in my rearview almost ten years ago. I'm sure that's what my father wanted people to think, anyway.

Raoul is already inside the gates. I can see him and a few other men pacing around a concrete dome rising out of the ground. As I get closer, I see the metal door set into the concrete.

It's a cellar.

"It was all Anatoly," Raoul tells me as soon as I get out of the car. "After you left the hospital, he looked at the history of the tracker from his car. He could see everywhere Pyotr had been. The idiot left the mansion and drove straight here. He didn't make any stops or try to evade detection at all."

"I'm not surprised. We're talking about a man who thought Iakov was going to let him lead the Bratva."

Raoul's eyebrows rise. "You're kidding."

"We'll laugh about it later." Actually, I doubt I'll be laughing about any of this any time soon. "Right now, I want to get inside."

"Since I'm guessing Viv and Dante weren't with Pyotr when you found him, they have to be down there. I just don't know who else is down there," Raoul admits. "I wanted to wait for you to?—"

"I'll go in." I check my gun. There are only two shots left, but it's more than enough for what I have planned for my father. I don't want to waste my time on torture. I just want him dead.

Raoul looks nervous, but he doesn't try to stop me. He knows better.

My men lift the hatch and I step down into the darkness.

A steep, narrow stairway leads down into a maze of hallways lit only by yellow emergency lights lining the corners of the low ceilings. Clearly, whoever built the hatch utilized the preexisting basement. The space is sprawling, but it's broken down into a web of tiny rooms with metal doors.

Cells, I realize as I clear empty room after empty room. They're prison cells.

I shove aside thoughts of what my father had planned for this place. Was he going to trap everyone who wasn't loyal to him down here? Would I have found myself in one of these cells one day?

The hypothetical doesn't matter. What matters is that my wife and son are in these rooms, buried in the ground beneath where I already lost one family.

I won't lose another.

I shove aside the possibility that I'm too late. I have to assume there is time and that, this time, I'll save them.

But as I turn the last corner and find a dead-end, I don't have to work to clear my mind. Every thought in my head except for one disappears as I see a small, shivering figure curled up in the hallway.

"Dante?"

His head pops up and I know instantly it's my son.

"Dad?" he croaks, sniffling back tears. Then he's on his feet and sprinting towards me. He throws his arms around my neck and I'm too stunned to move—to speak.

Dad.

He called me Dad.

"I knew you'd come for us," he cries, squeezing me tight. "Pyotr is bad and hurt Anatoly, but I knew you were good."

He saw Anatoly get shot. He was there for all of it.

I suddenly regret not taking more time dispatching Pyotr. He deserved so much worse.

I scoop Dante up and carry him with me down the hall. "Where's your mom?"

He points a shaky finger towards the last door on the right. "The man left, but he didn't unlock her door. I can't get her out. She's crying, but I can't help her." He hiccups, trying to control his sobs while he's talking a mile a minute. "The man scared her, I could tell. He scared me, too. I told him to let her go, but he wouldn't. The chains are big. And now, he's gone and he chained her up and they're big. I can't break them. Even you can't break them. Is she going to be stuck here? Is she going to die?"

"Hush now, son. No one is going to die," I assure him. And I realize I mean it.

It's why I told Anatoly to get Viviana out of the mansion in the first place. I wasn't going to let my father kill her. She may have lied to me about killing Trofim, but she is still my son's mother.

That alone is a good reason to keep Viviana alive. Whatever else I might feel for her isn't important.

It turns out my father didn't leave a key behind because the door is already unlocked; it's just heavy enough that Dante can't open it on his own. As to why Viviana isn't trying to open it from the inside… I don't want to think about that yet.

I lower Dante to the floor and he instantly clings to me. His fingers dig into the collar of my shirt, holding tight.

"I'll be right back, but I have to go make sure your mom is alright."

His blue eyes are panicked. "Is she okay?"

Fuck, I hope so.

"I'm sure she is," I tell him. "But I need to go in there and check on her. I want you to stay right here, okay?"

He nods, his chin dimpling with the effort not to cry.

"Good boy." I kiss the top of his head and then turn to face the door.

I didn't feel a thing walking down into the bunker. But now, facing a door I know Viviana is behind, my heart jolts.

I don't want to parse out why.

I don't want to think about what she's been through.

I don't want to do anything except get her out of here and figure out what happens next.

As soon as I open the door, I hear the rattle of chains. Viviana is huddled in the corner, her arms coiled around herself to protect from the cold concrete and damp walls.

She looks up as the door opens and she is half-wild. Her face is pale and her green eyes are circled in purplish bruises. Her hair is a matted tangle over her shoulder. She looks hollow and sick.

But when she stands up with hands fisted at her sides and her mouth set in a firm line, all I can think is…

I want her.

After everything, I still fucking want her.

"Mikhail?" she rasps.

Her excitement isn't as genuine as Dante's. For good reason: she doesn't trust me the way she once did.

That goes both ways.

"My father is gone and Pyotr is dead," I inform her. "Dante is in the hallway."

She blinks, processing it all in a second. Less than.

"Anatoly?" she whispers like saying his name out loud might jinx it.

The only good decision my father ever made was choosing Viviana as a bride for his son, I think. She's tough enough for the title, that's for sure. She looks like she could collapse at any second, but she's staying on her feet and assessing the situation.

She's a warrior at heart.

"Alive. He's the reason I found?—"

"Thank God," she sobs.

Then she hurls herself at me, but I'm just out of reach. The chains jerk at her wrists and ankles. She's frozen in front of me, arms extended. If the chains weren't there, I'm positive she'd be face-down on the floor right now. Her face is crumpled with exhaustion and relief and fear and a million other emotions I can't even begin to name.

Even though I know I shouldn't, I step forward and close the gap between us.

She falls against my body with a sigh. She smells like damp and dirt, but under it all is the sweetness I'm used to. The vanilla honey scent that I'd have to burn my mansion down to get rid of.

"Mikhail…" Viviana sobs my name like she's still trying to convince herself that I'm real. She holds me tighter, burying her face in my neck.

I let her hug me. I let her soak the sleeve of my shirt with tears as I pat her back. I can feel her heart thumping in her chest and I count each beat.

She's alive.Feeling the proof eases some clenched part of me.

"Mama?" Dante peeks his head into the cell and Viviana cries harder.

She reaches for Dante, but doesn't let me go. She pulls me into the hug until we're all huddled on the floor.

This is for Dante, I tell myself. I'm doing all of this for Dante.

When they're ready, I break apart the chains and lead them both out of the bunker and straight into the backseat of the car Raoul is driving.

Within minutes, Dante curls into his mom's side and falls asleep. Viviana's cold fingers have been folded in mine since we were still navigating the hallways of the bunker.

"This isn't how I thought today would end," she whispers, looking up at me. When I frown, she squeezes my hand like that's explanation enough.

Nothing with Viviana has gone the way I thought it would. Since the moment I saw her at that engagement party, she has surprised me at every turn.

Which is exactly why she has to go.

"The day isn't over," I say coldly.

She stiffens next to me. "What does that mean? Aren't we going home?"

"Dante and I are going home," I explain. "But when we get back to the mansion, you're going to leave." She tries to pull her hand away, but I snatch her wrist. "Don't wake up Dante and cause a scene. This will be easier if he stays asleep."

Her eyes flick from our son to me and back again. She shakes her head. "You aren't going to make me leave. You just saved me. Twice."

"Anatoly wanted to save you." It's not a lie; it's just not the entire truth.

I told Anatoly to save her, but admitting that doesn't change what needs to happen.

"He wouldn't have helped me escape without your permission," she protests. "You don't want me to die, Mikhail."

"I may not want you to die, but that doesn't mean I want you," I lie through my teeth, every word ripping out of me in burning agony. "I thought being with you would keep Dante safe. Now, I'm in a war with the Greeks and the truth is… you're not worth it."

The blow lands exactly like I thought it would. She gasps and a tear slips down her cheek. "You expect me to leave and let you take my son from me?"

"I'm keeping Dante whether you make a scene or not. You aren't letting me do anything. Your only choice here is deciding what Dante's last memory of you should be. Do you want it to be cuddling in the backseat of this car, or screaming and crying as you're dragged off my property?"

Raoul would hate to drag Viviana away, but he'd do it if I asked.

She stares at me in disbelief as tears flow silently down her cheeks. I didn't know it was possible for someone to look so beautiful while they cry.

She looks broken. Shattered. The fire I've always seen in her eyes dims. "You aren't going to change your mind."

It's not a question, but I explain myself anyway. I say the one thing I know she can't disagree with.

"Ending this war with the Greeks is how I can keep Dante safe."

People in my own Bratva are pushing back against me. I won't fight on two fronts. Not when it could put Dante at risk. I'm going to do everything I can to keep him safe.

"So you're going to marry her?" she asks softly. "Helen?"

"That doesn't concern you."

"As long as I have this ring on my finger, it concerns me."

I hold out my open palm. "Then give the ring back. You hate that fucking monstrosity anyway."

She jerks her hand away. "I made a vow. Until death does us part, this ring is staying on my finger."

A couple days ago, I would have loved hearing that. I would've taken her home and showed her exactly how much I loved hearing it, several times over.

Now, it's too late.

I slide my matching ring off. Viviana's name is indented in my skin thanks to her smart ass addition on the inside of the band. I toss the ring into her lap. "Then take mine. I don't need it anymore."

Her chin dimples, but otherwise, she tries not to react. Slowly, she pockets the ring and then wraps her arms around Dante.

The rest of the drive is silent as she softly cries into his hair, kissing his temple as he sleeps. She holds him like it's the last time. Because it is.

I wait for her to change her mind and rail and scream against my decision, but when I carefully pluck Dante from the car and hand him to Raoul, Viviana doesn't say a word.

She doesn't speak again until Raoul and Dante disappear inside the mansion.

"You promised me that you'd let him be a little boy first and an heir second." She sniffles, her breath hitching with stifled sobs. "If there's any vow you keep, please make it that one."

"I don't owe you anything, Viviana."

"But you owe him," she spits. "You owe your son a real father since he won't have—since I won't be?—"

Since he won't have a mother.

Since she won't be with him.

"I promise," I growl, cutting her off. She has cried more than enough tonight. I can't take any more. None of it changes what I need to do. "I'll remember."

Viviana holds my gaze. Seconds skew and twist until I'm not sure how long we've been standing here.

I'm still waiting for her to argue that she should stay. Part of me wants her to. Maybe she'll make a good point and change my mind.

She doesn't. And I can't waste any more of my time or energy on her. It's what got us into this mess in the first place.

"There's a car waiting for you." I gesture towards the garage. "Pyotr's car, actually. It's the one Anatoly was supposed to take you in tonight. The car is yours to keep."

"Am I supposed to thank you?"

I ignore her. "You can go wherever you want. But I suggest you go far."

"This isn't about what I want," she mutters. Then she clears her throat. "I don't have any money. I didn't have much savings before and I haven't been to work in weeks."

"There's money in the car. Enough for you to get started. Plus the rings."

She frowns. "What about the rings?"

"Pawn them. They're fucking hideous, but they're expensive."

"Yeah. I guess so." She nervously works the gaudy ring around her finger with her thumb. "You know, for a second there, I thought we were going to make it work."

"Make what work?"

Pain flickers across her face. She shrugs. "You. Me. Us. For a second, it seemed like we might be happy."

"This was never about being happy."

It still isn't.

Because if it was…

I shake my head. "This is a business deal. It's about what benefits me."

"And I don't benefit you anymore?" she asks softly.

The problem is that I don't benefit you, Viviana. Being close to me is a promise of death. I'm saving you by sending you away. You'll hate me for it, but it's the only thing I can do to keep you safe.

"No," I say simply. "You don't."

She swipes at her cheek, brushing away a tear I can't see. "Well, I guess I should leave while I still can."

It's what I told her the night we spent in that bridal suite. Only, back then, I actually wanted her to leave. I wanted her to get out before Trofim or her father dragged her back.

Now, she needs to leave while I have the strength to let her. Otherwise, I'll drag her back inside the mansion and bar the doors.

"Goodbye, Viviana," I say as I'm already turning towards the house. I need to walk away and end things here. Keep it short and sweet. But I can't stop myself from adding, "Take care of yourself."

She releases a shuddering breath. "Goodbye, Mikhail."

I don't watch her get in the car or pull down the drive. I can't. Even when I hear the security system chime, alerting me to the gates being opened, it takes all I have to sit in my office and not tear down the driveway after her.

I have to do what's right for the Bratva and what's right for Dante.

After six years and a lifetime of chaos, Viviana Giordano is finally gone for good.