Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

A my

My legs burned as I sprinted through the darkened streets, my heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the chaos in my head. The gun was still clutched in my hand, though I wasn’t sure if I’d even have the strength—or nerve—to fire it again.

Aleksei’s voice echoed in my mind, sharp and commanding. “Go! That’s an order!”

I wanted to turn back, to fight my way back to him, but his men dragged me toward the alley and shoved me into the night. Two of them were running by my side, flanking me as I sprinted through the dark.

Orlov’s men weren’t far behind. Their shouts cut through the night air, mingling with the sound of my boots slamming against the pavement. I darted around a corner, skidding slightly on the wet ground, and pressed myself against the wall of a shadowy alley. My breath came in ragged gasps as I gripped the gun tighter, my hands shaking.

Come on, Amy , I thought, forcing myself to breathe.

You’re not going down like this.

The men’s voices grew louder, closer, and I knew I had seconds to move. Swallowing my fear, I turned and climbed the fire escape ladder bolted to the wall, my limbs screaming in protest. I reached the roof just as the first of them rounded the corner below.

“There!” one of them barked, pointing up at me.

Shit.

I didn’t stop to think. I ran, jumping from one rooftop to the next, my adrenaline the only thing keeping me upright. I ran across the roof of the second building, looking back to see that Aleksei’s men and the Orlovs were locked in hand-to-hand combat back on the ground.

So I kept running.

Then I saw a flickering neon green sign above a doorway across the street. The lights were on inside and it looked busy enough that I could use the crowd for cover.

The sign said Murphy’s Pub.

I scrambled down the nearest fire escape, my feet hitting the ground hard. Without hesitation, I bolted across the street, throwing myself toward the pub’s door. I shoved it open, the warmth and noise of the bar washing over me like a soothing wave.

Heads turned as I stumbled inside, my chest heaving, the gun still clutched in my hand.

“Well, well,” a smooth, amused female voice said. “And here I thought tonight was going to be boring.”

I looked up and saw the woman who’d spoken. She looked like a force of nature, dressed in a sharp, tailored pantsuit with a red lipstick that could cut glass. She stood behind the bar, her hand resting casually on her hip, but there was nothing casual about the knowing glint in her eyes.

“My name is Amy. I need help,” I gasped, my voice trembling but determined.

The woman raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking to the gun in my hand. “Looks like you’ve had an exciting night.”

“I’m being chased,” I said quickly, glancing over my shoulder. “By men from the Orlov Bratva.”

That got her attention. The room went quiet, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“And why would the Orlovs be chasing you, sweetheart?” she asked, her tone cool but curious.

“You know the Orlovs?” I asked quietly.

“Yes. Now answer my question,” she continued, her voice turning a smidge harder.

“Because I’m with the Morozovs,” I blurted, my voice steadier now. “Aleksei Morozov. They ambushed us.”

The woman’s smile faltered a bit, her curiosity piqued. “The Morozovs, you say?”

Before I could respond, the door slammed open behind me, and three men barged in, their eyes wild and searching.

“There she is!” one of them snarled.

I stepped back, gripping the gun tightly, but the woman was faster. With a snap of her fingers, the pub erupted into motion.

Men and women who had been nursing drinks and laughing moments ago stood, moving with precision that spoke of years of training and experience. Within seconds, the Orlov men were surrounded, their weapons confiscated, their faces pale as they realized their mistake.

The woman stepped out from behind the bar, her heels clicking against the floor as she approached the nearest man. She tilted her head, her smile as cold as the steel in her voice.

“You’ve got some nerve, bringing Orlov business into my pub.”

The man stammered, his confidence crumbling under her gaze. “We—we were just?—”

“Just leaving,” She finished for him, nodding to one of her people. “Show them the way out. And make sure they don’t come back.”

Within moments, the Orlov men were dragged out the back door, their protests silenced by the efficient brutality of her crew.

When the pub was quiet again, she turned to me, her expression unreadable.

“Well, Amy,” she said, her voice smoother now. “Now that that’s handled, I want answers. How did you get caught up with the Orlovs and the Morozovs?”

I swallowed hard, still catching my breath. “It’s a long story,” I said, my voice shaking slightly.

The woman smiled, gesturing toward the bar. “Then you’d better start talking. And don’t leave anything out.”

I hesitated for only a moment before nodding, knowing I didn’t have a choice. If I was going to get Aleksei back, I needed all the help I could get—and this woman was clearly someone who could deliver.

“Whiskey?” she asked, her tone calm, almost casual.

“I think I need water first,” I replied, still catching my breath.

She smirked, pouring a glass and sliding it across to me. “Fair enough. But we’ll get to the good stuff soon.”

I sipped the water gratefully, my heart still racing. The woman leaned against the bar, her perfectly tailored suit unwrinkled despite everything that had just happened. She watched me carefully, waiting for me to speak.

“You’re not just a bartender, are you?” I asked, the words spilling out before I could stop myself.

She chuckled, the sound low and knowing. “Not even close. The name’s Murphy. Ada Murphy. Maybe you’ve heard of me?”

My breath hitched. Of course, I’d heard the name Murphy. The family was infamous in Boston—a powerhouse Irish mafia family with the type of influence that reached far beyond the city limits.

“You’re… you’re part of the Irish mafia,” I said, my voice quieter now.

“Part of it?” Ada repeated, her red lips curving into a dangerous smile. “Sweetheart, I am the Irish mafia. Or at least, I run it with my husband and my five brothers.”

As if on cue, the door behind the bar opened, and a tall man stepped out. He was broad-shouldered and imposing, his dark hair giving him an air of authority that rivaled Aleksei’s. His piercing green eyes swept over the room before landing on me.

“Ada, what’s all this?” he asked, his voice deep and steady.

“This,” Ada said, gesturing toward me, “is Amy. She’s with the Morozovs. And apparently, the Orlovs are after her. Amy, this is my husband, Shane Kavanagh.”

The man arched an eyebrow, his gaze sharpening. “The Morozovs?”

I nodded, feeling small under his scrutiny. “Aleksei Morozov. He’s my… boss.”

Ada’s smirk widened, her eyes gleaming. “Boss, is it? Judging by the way you came in here, I’d say it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

My cheeks flushed, but I didn’t argue.

She wasn’t wrong.

Shane stepped closer, his presence filling the space beside his wife. “You’ve got guts, running in here. But if the Orlovs are after you, that means they’re making moves they shouldn’t be. Tell us exactly what happened.”

I took a deep breath, setting the glass down. “Aleksei arranged a meeting with Leonardo Santini—an Italian art collector. We were hoping to expand the gallery’s client base and potentially get more information about the Orlovs, but… Santini sold us out to them first. They ambushed us at the gallery.”

Ada tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “And Aleksei?”

“They took him,” I admitted, my voice trembling.

Ada and Shane exchanged a glance. Finally, Ada turned back to me, her sharp gaze softening just slightly.

“You’re lucky you stumbled in here,” she said. “The Orlovs don’t scare easily, but they don’t intimidate us either. We’ve been butting heads with them for years. If they think they can start taking Murphy territory, then we’re going to have to deal with them the way we see fit.”

“Why would you help me?” I asked warily.

Ada’s smile turned sly. “Because I don’t like the Orlovs. And because the Morozovs have been decent allies to us, more like family to some of us. If they’re in trouble, it’s in our interest to make sure they stay strong.”

Shane crossed his arms, his gaze assessing. “If we’re going to help, we’ll do it our way. Understood?”

I nodded quickly, my chest tightening with a mix of hope and nerves. “Just… please. I need your help to get him back.”

Ada’s smile softened, just enough to feel genuine. “Don’t worry. If the Orlovs thought they could get away with this, they’ve severely underestimated what a pissed-off Murphy can do.”

Shane smirked, his arm sliding around Ada’s waist. “And a pissed-off Kavanagh,” he added with a wink. “Now tell us the whole story.”

I told them everything.

As soon as I finished, Ada grabbed her phone from behind the bar and started dialing. Shane stood beside her, his arms crossed, his expression grim but focused.

“Maxim first,” Ada murmured, more to herself than anyone else. “The eldest always knows how to rally the rest.”

She turned to me as the phone rang, her gaze locking onto mine. “You’re sure you didn’t see where they took him?”

“No,” I admitted, hating how helpless I sounded. “It all happened so fast. But Santini said something about the Orlovs getting what they want. Does that mean anything to you?”

Ada’s lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze flicking to Shane. He nodded slightly, as if confirming something unspoken.

“Maxim,” Ada said suddenly. “We need to talk.”

I couldn’t hear his response, but whatever he said made her smirk.

“Yes, it’s Ada. It’s about Aleksei.” She paused, glancing at me before continuing. “He’s been taken by the Orlovs. Amy here managed to escape and came straight to me. She’s safe, but your brother isn’t. We’re going to fix that.”

Another pause, this one shorter, before Ada handed the phone to Shane. “He’ll need to hear it from you, too.”

Shane took the phone, his voice calm and authoritative as he spoke. “Maxim, it’s Shane. Ada’s right—we’ll help, but this needs to be a joint effort. Bring your brothers. All of them. Meet us at Murphy’s. We’ll strategize from here.”

The exchange was brief, and when Shane hung up, he turned to Ada. “How long do you think?”

“They’ll be here within the hour,” she said confidently. “Maxim doesn’t waste time, especially when it comes to family.”

The words made my chest tighten.

Ada placed a hand on my shoulder, her grip firm but not unkind. “Don’t worry, darling. With the Morozovs and us working together, the Orlovs don’t stand a chance.”

I nodded, although the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen. I wasn’t just worried about Aleksei’s safety—I was worried about what they might do to him before we got there.

“They’re here,” Ada said, pulling the door open just as four imposing men stepped out of two sleek black SUVs.

One of them, the tallest with sharp steel-blue eyes and a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward first. His gaze swept the room before landing on me, and for a moment, I felt like I was under a microscope.

“Where is she?” he asked, his voice low and clipped.

Ada nodded toward me, and he approached, his expression unreadable. His presence was overwhelming, his shoulders broad, his movements deliberate.

“You’re Amy,” he said, more of a statement than a question.

“Yes,” I said, my voice trembling slightly.

“Maxim,” he said, offering a curt nod. “I’m Aleksei’s eldest brother.”

Behind him, the others followed. A man with dark, messy hair and glasses stepped forward next, his expression sharp and thoughtful.

“Ivan,” he said, his voice softer but no less commanding. “Aleksei’s mentioned you.”

My cheeks flushed, but I didn’t have time to dwell on what he said before the next one stepped forward. He was broad and stoic, his salt-and-pepper hair cropped short, and a scar notched his left ear. His piercing green eyes assessed me quickly, like he was sizing me up.

“Sergei,” he said simply, his voice deep and deliberate. “I’m the one who makes sure everyone stays alive. Including you.”

The last one, younger than the rest but no less intimidating, stepped forward with a confident smirk. He was built like a tank, tattoos peeking out from the cuffs of his sleeves, and his striking blue eyes held a hint of mischief.

“Nikolai,” he said, crossing his arms as his smirk widened. “The fun one.”

“Fun?” Sergei muttered under his breath. “You’re a liability.”

Nikolai shrugged, unbothered.

Ada stepped forward, her tone cutting through the tension. “Now that the introductions are out of the way, let’s get down to business.”

Maxim nodded, his sharp gaze shifting back to me. “Tell me what happened.”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I recounted everything—the meeting with Santini, the ambush, Aleksei’s capture. The brothers listened intently, their expressions hardening with every word.

When I finished, Ada spoke. “We’ve got leads,” she said. “Chatter about an Orlov safehouse on the docks. If he’s alive, that’s where they’re holding him.”

“Alive isn’t a question,” Sergei growled, his green eyes flashing. “He’s alive. Period.”

Shane stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “We’ll take two cars—my men and yours. Ada and I will coordinate onsite. But we need to move now. The longer we wait, the less leverage we have.”

Maxim turned to me, his expression softening slightly. “You’re staying here.”

“No,” I said immediately, surprising even myself with the strength in my voice.

All four brothers turned to look at me, their brows raised in unison.

“I’m going,” I said firmly. “I was there. I can help.”

“You’ll slow us down,” Sergei said bluntly, crossing his arms.

“Enough,” Ada interjected, her voice cutting through the room like a whip. “If Amy wants to go, she goes. But she stays close to me. Got it?”

Maxim’s eyes narrowed slightly, and the brothers exchanged a look that I couldn’t quite decipher. Finally, Maxim nodded, his expression hardening.

“Fine,” he said. “But if anything happens to her, it’s on you, Murphy.”

Ada smirked, unbothered by the warning. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

The ride to the docks was tense. I sat between Ada and Nikolai in the back seat, my pulse pounding in my ears as I stared out the window.

Maxim was in the front passenger seat, speaking quietly into a comm device as he coordinated with Shane and the others in the second car. Ivan was driving, his movements smooth and precise, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Ada broke the silence beside me, her tone calm but firm. “You remember the plan?”

I nodded quickly. “Stick with you. Don’t get in the way.”

“Good girl,” she said, her lips curving into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “This isn’t going to be easy, Amy. The Orlovs don’t play fair, and they don’t show mercy.”

“I know,” I said softly, though my voice wavered.

Nikolai leaned back, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Relax,” he said, his tone light but edged with steel. “Stick with Ada, and you’ll be fine. Besides, we’re going to tear these bastards apart before they even know what hit them.”

The docks were quiet when we arrived, the dark waters lapping softly against the pylons. Stacks of shipping containers loomed like monoliths in the shadows, and the faint hum of machinery echoed in the distance.

It was eerie in the fading light.

Maxim gave a small hand signal, and everyone began to move. Shane’s crew took position along the perimeter, while the Morozovs split into pairs—Maxim with Ivan, Nikolai with Sergei—each of them slipping into the shadows with weapons drawn.

I stuck close to Ada, my heart racing as we moved toward one of the larger warehouse buildings. She walked with purpose, her steps silent but deliberate, a pistol gripped firmly in her hand.

“You’re doing fine,” she murmured as we crouched behind a stack of crates near the entrance.

I nodded, clutching the gun I’d stolen in my own hand, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

Maxim’s voice crackled softly through the comms. “Movement inside. Four guards at the entrance. More likely inside the warehouse. Keep it quiet until we’re in position.”

Ada glanced at me, her expression sharp. “Stay behind me,” she whispered.

I swallowed hard and nodded, gripping the gun tighter as she moved forward.

The first guard didn’t see it coming. Ada moved like an assassin, her silenced pistol snapping with a soft pop as the bullet struck home. The man crumpled, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud. My breath caught in my throat, my heart hammering in my chest as I forced myself to keep moving.

“Good,” Ada murmured, glancing back at me, her expression calm and unreadable. She gestured for me to follow, her movements as fluid as water.

We slipped through the side entrance, the metal door creaking faintly as Ada pushed it open. The warehouse loomed around us, lit by weak overhead bulbs that buzzed faintly and cast harsh shadows across the walls and floor.

I followed Ada as she crept along the edges of the building, my hands gripping my own gun. My palms were sweaty, my breaths shallow, but I kept pushing, not for myself, but for Aleksei.

The voices grew louder, sharp, and clipped, the familiar cadence of Russian echoing through the cavernous space. I strained to make out the words, but my focus shifted the moment I saw him.

Aleksei.

He was kneeling in the center of the room, his hands bound tightly behind his back. Blood trickled down the side of his face, staining his shirt, but he was alive.

That was all I could focus on—that he was alive .

Two men stood over him, their faces cold and cruel, while a third paced nearby, barking orders into a phone. More guards lingered in the shadows, their weapons glinting in the faint light. My heart clenched, anger and fear warring inside me.

“Stay here,” Ada whispered, her voice sharp but steady as she pressed herself against a stack of crates.

“No,” I hissed back, shaking my head. “I have to?—”

“You want to help him?” she cut me off, her dark eyes boring into mine. “Then don’t make this harder for me. Trust me to do my job.”

Her words stung, but I bit my lip and nodded, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.

Ada pressed the comm device in her ear. “Maxim, we’ve got eyes on him. Three guards directly on him, at least five more in the perimeter.”

“Hold position,” Maxim’s voice crackled through the comms. “We’re closing in.”

The seconds stretched like hours, every muscle in my body coiled tight as I waited for the signal. My eyes stayed locked on Aleksei, willing him to look up, to see that we were here. But he didn’t move. His head hung slightly, the blood dripping onto the cold concrete beneath him.

Ada’s hand flicked up, and then everything exploded into motion.

The first shot rang out, the sound muffled but precise as one of Maxim’s men dropped a guard at the perimeter. Another man fell seconds later, the silenced shots from Sergei’s and Nikolai’s pistols finding their marks with brutal efficiency.

Ada stepped forward, her aim deadly as she fired, taking out one of the men standing over Aleksei. The second guard turned, his face twisting in surprise, but I was already moving.

My heart thundered as I darted forward, my gun shaking in my grip. The man raised his weapon toward Aleksei, and without thinking, I squeezed the trigger.

The shot was deafening in the cavernous space, but it hit true. The guard staggered back, clutching his side before crumpling to the ground.

“Amy!” Ada hissed, her voice sharp with both anger and approval.

But I didn’t stop.

The man pacing with the phone turned, his eyes widening in shock as Maxim appeared behind him like a ghost. The eldest Morozov moved with lethal accuracy, his blade flashing as it pressed against the man’s throat.

“You shouldn’t have crossed us,” Maxim growled, his voice ice-cold, before ending him with a single, brutal motion.

I reached Aleksei, my knees hitting the ground as I dropped beside him.

“Aleksei,” I gasped, my hands trembling as I fumbled with the ropes binding his wrists.

His head lifted slowly, his eyes meeting mine. “Amy,” he murmured, his voice weak but steady. “You shouldn’t have?—”

“Save it,” I said, cutting him off, my hands finally loosening the knots. “You’re not lecturing me right now.”

“Get him on his feet,” Maxim barked, his voice cutting through the tension.

“We’ve got you,” I whispered, my voice shaking with both relief and determination. I slipped my arm under Aleksei’s, helping him stand as he leaned heavily against me.

He smiled faintly, his fingers brushing my arm.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered.

“I couldn’t just leave you,” I shot back, my voice breaking slightly.

The adrenaline still pumped through my veins as Maxim and Sergei closed ranks around us, their weapons raised, their expressions grim but victorious.

“Move out,” Maxim ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As we hurried toward the exit, I glanced back at the carnage we’d left behind. The sight of it should have made me sick, but all I could feel was relief.

Aleksei was safe.

My daddy was safe…