21. ANDREY

Chapter 21

ANDREY

It's been eight weeks, and there's been no signs of Konstantin or Isabella. I stand in the garage of Belov Towers, staring at the SUV I bought Isabella for her birthday. We thought we had a lead as the cameras on the outside of the house caught them driving away in an identical vehicle. But it wasn't the one I had bought Isabella.

I'm not even sure what the purpose of having an identical getaway car was. Urie discovered that Stacy Thompson had bought the identical Porsche. That fucking bitch hadn't been helping me pick a birthday present for Isabella. She was helping Isabella escape from me .

Fury bursts inside me like it has these past eight weeks whenever I think about my wedding day. On the day, I didn't have time to go over how easily Isabella had manipulated the entire day to her advantage. At first, I thought she had one or more of Marco's staff members helping her, but they are all utterly loyal to Marco, except for James, who I now know dislikes Marco even though he hasn't said as much.

But I know it wasn't James. He drank the same drinks we did and got knocked out, too. I saw him go down. He was as surprised as I was when Isabella reached for the bottle of vodka and then waved me goodbye, declaring our divorce. Oh, do I have news for my beautiful, deceitful little wife when I find her? There will be no divorce. She belongs to me, and when I am done with her, Isabella will know her place.

I may have promised my mother I wouldn't kill Konstantin as long as my mother was alive. But I never promised her I wouldn't hurt him or bring him near death over and over again, along with that no-good Stacy Thompson and their other accomplice. Davey, something or other. I can never remember his last name. I frowned. I didn't think I even got his last name. But everyone who helped my wife escape will answer to me.

"Andrey!" Urie's impatient voice snaps out of my thoughts. "What is up with you today?"

"I have a lot on my mind."

"We will find Isabella," Uries tries to reassure me. Something flashes in his eyes. "But you do know that you can't just let her get off lightly for what she did to you, your father, and Marco Moretti, right?'

My eyes narrow dangerously. "And what would that be?"

Ever since the day Isabella was taken and I took over the Belov Bratva, Urie hasn't quite been himself. He's edgy, and every time Isabella comes into the conversation, he reminds me that she has to be brought to justice for her crime.

"She drugged everyone at that party. Most of the guests have a fuzzy recollection of what happened. Luckily, the people with kids had already gone home." Urie's voice is laced with anger. "Most of the men felt like shit for days. That made us vulnerable."

"Isabella wasn't the one that took out our security team," I point out. "And there is no evidence suggesting she was the one that drugged us. You saw the footage. It was Konstantin who had the bottle of vodka." I hold him with my eyes. "If anyone says anything different, they will be dealt with. I will deal with my wayward wife." My eyes narrow some more. "When we find her. That's what you should be doing. Finding Isabella. When you find her, you'll find her brother, Stacy Thompson, and Davey's what's-his-name."

"Please tell me you're not going to let Isabella off because you're pussy whipped," Urie's snaps. "That woman has scrambled your fucking brains."

I got still, and my eyes held a warning mirrored by my voice. "I have no idea what's got your panties in a twist, Urie. But be very careful how you speak about my wife."

Urie's eyes widen, and he backs down. "I'm sorry, Andrey." He runs a hand through his hair. "But that stunt left us vulnerable. We were all out for hours. Anyone could've picked us off. That would've been you, your father, James, and Marco gone."

I pick the yellow folder off the side of my desk, open it, flick through a few pages, and pull out a few photos. "We weren't vulnerable." I chuck them on the desk. "We had a team of Zhukov special forces patrolling the grounds until we came around."

"What?" Urie frowns and picks up the pictures.

"James gave me these that day. We haven't shown anyone else as we don't want to cause a panic. They didn't want us dead, but they wanted us to know they were ensuring no one swooped in to do it." I tell him. "They were protecting their prey." Urie's eyes widen as he realizes what I'm saying is true. "James reckons the only reason Konstantin didn't take the opportunity to kill his father or mine that day was because he was ordered not to."

"How would James know that?" Urie sneered.

Is his nose bent out of shape because James is my right-hand man for the Moretti Mafia? I shake the thought away. "He knows his cousin. Marco has mentioned his son to James on numerous occasions, and after learning what I did about Konstantin, trust me, he has every right to want his father and mine dead."

"Jesus, Andrey," Urie growls. "Who's side are you on?" His eyes narrow angrily. "Did you maybe stop to think that James wants Marco completely gone?"

"Why would James want that?" I sit back, eyeing Urie with a deadly calm. "He's already the Don of the Boston Mafia."

"Because he blames Marco for his parent's death!" Urie informs me. "He wants a war to break out between the crime families and maybe wants to take over your position?"

"That doesn't even make sense. If James did take me out, he wouldn't get my position. He already runs the Boston Mafia, and when Marco retires or is retired, James will take over Moretti Law. So I think James has everything he could want." I frown at Urie. "Who told you the bullshit about James?"

"I have eyes and ears everywhere," Urie tells me. "You know I have your back, Andrey, and as such, I have to find out these things."

I stare at him, assessing him. His eyes meet mine, and while he seems genuine, Urie has always had a tell when he's not being candid with me. Something is definitely up with him, and that's a problem because I usually trust Urie with my life. Right now, I'm doubting that trust.

Urie and I grew up together. Besides being my right-hand man, he is also my best friend. His family has been loyal and served mine for generations. I'd hate for anything to come between not only our friendship but our trust.

When I took the position of Pakhan eight weeks ago, I suspected Sergei of being a mole for my father, but I was wrong. He is loyal to whomever the Belov Pakhan is. I'd hate for his son to have switched sides.

We're under attack by a faceless enemy threatening to spark a war between crime families—not just in Boston but across the country and Europe. The hackers successfully shipped another three containers of painted ladies through Velvet Transport from ports we lease but do not own.

I've had to suspend operations at three of the leased facilities, where we tracked most of the painted ladies' containers being sent from.

It's a fucking headache because these ports were crucial hubs for our operations. Now, we're scrambling to reroute our unique customers' goods to the nearest ports that we actually own. Coordinating these logistics is slowing down shipments and causing delays, which could impact our credibility with our clients. It's a vulnerable position to be in, especially with the threat of a broader conflict looming over us.

I'm in a precarious position. My top priority is protecting Isabella from both the Bratva and the Mafia. She incapacitated the bosses, and I've pinned the blame solely on Konstantin to divert attention from her, but the truth could still leak out. Tensions among our men and Marco's, or rather James's, are escalating due to the threat of the painted ladies.

Initially, I suspected Marco was behind the hacking since the hackers would only communicate with him. However, after speaking with what I assume is their leader, I'm convinced Marco isn't orchestrating this. I'm sure they want him and my father dead once they've achieved their objectives.

Now, my focus is on preventing Konstantin from killing Marco before we resolve the hacker issue. I also need to ensure my father's safety, although it seems no one cares as long as Marco and my mother are alive it seems Ivan Belov is dispensable.

My mother is crucial to our operations, and her safety is tied to the company's future. If anything happens to her she's threatened to expose our entire operation to the FBI, leading to its dismantling.

Marco can't disclose what the hackers want; the consequences could trigger a catastrophic chain of events. All he has disclosed to James and me is that Isabella holds the key to their motives. Finding her and bringing her back safely is paramount.

So I need people I can trust, and that's always been Urie for me. He's been my right-hand man and best friend since childhood. It would be a devastating blow to discover he's been playing me or, worse, betraying me, especially now when trust is everything.

In this dangerous game where one wrong move could lead to war, Urie's loyalty has been my anchor. If that trust crumbles, I'll be navigating these treacherous waters alone, with enemies on all sides and Isabella's safety hanging in the balance.

"Are you going to tell me why you've had a bug up your ass for the past eight weeks?"

"It's not a bug, Andrey." Urie leans forward, his eyes filled with concern. "It's worry. For you, the Belov Bratva, your father, and mine." He shakes his head. "Olga and I are getting married in a few months, and if all this goes south because you trusted the wrong person…"

"Is this about Olga?" My brows crumpled together. "Urie, you're my right-hand man, second in command now. You know there is always a risk we won't go home one day."

"I know!" Urie leans forward and runs a hand over his face. "I would just like to make it to our wedding day so that…" He shakes his head and lets out a breath. "So that my child is born legitimately."

"Child?" My eyes open wide as I stare at him. "Olga is pregnant?"

Urie nods. "We were going to ask you to speak to your father to try and get the wedding moved up, but then everything went down with you and Isabella. Then you took over as Pakhan."

"Fuck it, Urie!" I bellow. "You should've just come to me with this."

"We were waiting to find out if everything was okay and if Olga was actually pregnant," Urie explains. "We had a scare before, and it was an ectopic pregnancy."

"I remember that." I nod and smile.

The memory flashes through my mind of how worried Urie was about breaking the news to Olga's father, Sasha Lebedev, a Belov Bratva vor and our fixer. Sasha had dedicated his life to protecting Olga after his wife's tragic death when Olga was just three years old. Sasha, in his devotion, had even sworn off relationships, determined to safeguard his daughter's well-being.

Sasha's unwavering dedication and deadly focus earned him the nickname Polar Bear. Once he sets his sights on you, there's nowhere to run or hide. I wouldn't want to be the one in Sasha's scope.

I now grasp the reason behind Urie's recent odd behavior, but it still irks me. He should have trusted me from the start. Yet, something about his demeanor continues to nag at me, a lingering doubt I can't quite shake off. Nonetheless, I will give Urie the benefit of the doubt. After all, he is family to me. Family and loyalty are sacred in our world.

"We still carry the lies from that pregnancy about her having to go to the hospital with us," Urie reminds me. "Olga is stressing now because we found out three weeks ago that it's real." His eyes soften, and he smiles in awe. "We're having a baby."

"Congratulations, Urie." I lean over and shake his hand. "How far along is Olga?"

"Eleven weeks," Urie tells me.

"I saw her yesterday." I'm surprised. "Wouldn't she have started to show?"

"She has rounded a bit more," Urie assures me.

I nod. "Do you want me to talk to Sasha?"

"No!" Urie shakes his head. "That is for me to do as the child's father. I would've liked to have been married to his daughter before we announced it, though."

"I'm sorry, Urie." I shake my head. "The past eight weeks have been a nightmare for all of us." I rub my face. "I can get a judge to perform a court marriage for you."

"Thank you." Urie looks relieved. "I will speak to Olga."

"Remember, Sasha will want to be involved," I caution. "He'll likely insist on another ceremony and a traditional wedding."

"Yes, I know," Urie says. "But at least I will have done right by the woman I love and her frightening father."

"I must admit to being glad Sasha is not my father-in-law!" I laugh, thinking that mine is not much better.

"Maybe we should get Sasha to deal with Konstantin." Urie jokes.

"I've already spoken to Sasha."

"Oh?" Urie looks at me in surprise. "I didn't know Sasha was on the team tracking Konstantin."

"He isn't," I tell Urie, although I'm not going to tell Urie who I have Sasha keeping an eye on. However, I am glad I omitted Urie from that list now—that would've complicated things.

"I think maybe he should be," Urie presses.

"Sasha's exact words to me were: ‘ fuck, if Konstantin's here, you'd better tell Marco and Ivan to get their affairs in order and make peace with their maker. I want to see my daughter married, so count me out. I don't want to be the fool standing between Konstantin and his prey.'"

"Jesus, that's serious." Urie's face drops and his eyes widen in disbelief. "If the Polar Bear is unwilling to intervene…"

"He's not unwilling, just cautious," I clarify. "He specifically asked to be left out of this one. In any case, I have other plans for him right now. So you and Olga need to get this sorted. I need everyone fully committed and focused."

"I'll speak to Olga and confirm a date for the court marriage," Urie nods. "It'll ease her mind."

"Urie, in the future, come to me immediately," I advise firmly. "Family comes first."

There's a flicker in his eyes again, fleeting yet noticeable. Is that guilt? I shake my head. Perhaps I'm just being paranoid with everything that's been going on, but something doesn't sit right in my gut.

As Urie leaves my office, my phone rings—it's James. "Hello."

"Andrey, we have a problem," James tells me. "Marco and your father are missing."

"What?"

"And you'd better get to Boston General," James tells me.

"Why?"

"Marco and Ivan's bodyguards…" James pauses. "Shit, just get here."

"On my way." I hang up and grab my jacket, phone, and keys to start heading out the door of Belov Industry offices, located above the Velvet Lounge when I run into my mother. "Mom?"

My eyes widen in alarm when I see how pale she is, and blood is dripping from her forehead.

"Andrey." My mother's voice is barely a whisper as she staggers forward.

"What happened?" Alarmed, I rush forward, steadying her. "I examine the gash on her head. That needs stitches."

"No!" My mother shakes her head. "They took them."

My eyes narrow, and I go cold. "Who took who?"

"Ivan… Marco…" She's battling and swaying.

"Come to my office, and let me look at the cut on your head."

I start leading her toward the door.

"No time." She leans against me, too weak to resist me, as I push her into my office. "Find them…" Her legs start to buckle.

"Mother!" I step forward and scoop her up as she crumples.

I turn and start rushing toward my car, yelling for Urie. As I pass his office, he pops his head out the door. "What is it… Oh fuck."

I throw my car keys at him. Without hesitation, Urie follows me. Of course, the elevator seems to take fucking forever to get to the underground parking garage in the building.

"Is she…" It's the first time Urie's spoken since I called him.

We're squealing away from the garage. I'm cradling my mother on my lap in the backseat of my SUV as we head toward Boston General.

"She needs stitches for that gash and a CT scan to rule out any swelling or complications," I explain urgently to Urie, remembering my medical training. "It's crucial to make sure there's no internal bleeding or other injuries."

"Jesus, what happened?" Urie glances in the mirror.

"I don't know. She passed out before she could say anything."

We pull up at the hospital. I jump out of the car while Urie goes to park it and rush in with my mother. Ten minutes later, Urie joins me in the waiting area. I have to meet James.

"How is she?" Urie's eyes are wide with concern.

"I don't know yet."

"Fuck. This is the part I hate, waiting to hear." Urie sits beside me on a chair.

"There are still a few familiar faces here from when I was doing my residency two years ago," I explain to Urie. "I told them my mother had an accident—it's better than speculating that some mob boss attacked her and took my father and his attorney."

Urie nods.

"Urie, while my mother gets stitched up and scanned, I need to attend to some business," I continued. "I need you to stay and wait for news about her condition." For some reason, I hesitated to tell him about Marco and my father's abduction or that I was supposed to meet James at the hospital when I found my mother. "I have to go make some calls and attend to some business. I won't be far."

"Of course," Urie says. "I'll let you know if the doctor comes by."

"Thanks." I take out my phone and call James.

"Are you here?" James sounds stressed.

"Yeah. Where are you?"

"Third floor," James tells me. "Go to room one-zero-five."

I frown at the mention of the third floor and head up there, a little alarmed that James has asked me to go to the psych wards. I find him in the room he told me to, and I hear screaming.

"James." We nod in greeting

"I've never seen anything like this." James points to the window.

I step up, and my eyes widen. "Fucking hell is that…?"

"Gustav, your father's bodyguard." James nods. "Nico, Marco's bodyguard, is in the next room. They've managed to sedate him."

Gustav is pulling at his restraints and screaming about the angel of death coming for him and his family, about fire burning down Boston if the angel doesn't get the key. Now, the gold feeling has an iron grip on my spine.

"Are they tripping?" I ask.

"The doctors can't find anything obvious with a quick urine test," James tells me. "They've sent their blood work to the lab."

"Did they check the men's skin and clothes?" I look at James questioningly

"You think they were sprayed with the same shit you were?" James frowns.

I told him about when I was sprayed in the face with something similar to what we were drugged with eight weeks ago.

"I didn't have a trip. I just went down, and while I was falling, the world started to look weird, shakey, double, and distorted."

"You think Gustav is just having an adverse effect on NeuroVeil?" James's brow creased tighter.

He nods and knocks on the window. He's ignored until the sedative starts to knock Gustav out.

"Sorry, Mr. Helm." The doctor pops out of the room. His eyes land on me, and he smiles. "Well, if it isn't Dr. Andrey Belov."

"Hey Martin," I greet the man with whom I used to work. "Working the psych wards now?"

"Yeah." He nods. "And you? Thinking about coming back to medicine?"

"No." I shake my head and then turn my attention back to Gustav. "He's my father's bodyguard. Any idea what did this to him?"

"We're waiting for his blood work," Martin tells me. "But there was nothing in his urine."

"How did you get him to piss. He seems out of his mind."

"Whatever he took has scared him to the extent that he pissed his pants," Martin shakes his head. "The other guy was just the same, and they're both sprouting the same thing about the angel of death bringing hellfire on us all if they don't get a key." He sighs.

"We're responsible for them," I tell Martin. "If you could let us know if you find anything." I glance at Gustav, now in a soothing sleep. "Oh, and maybe check his face and clothes for the residue of some sort of hallucinogen toxin."

Martin's eyes widen. "You think he was sprayed in the face with something?" He shudders. "That's fucking frightening if there is something like that out there."

"Keep this between us, Martin," I warn him. "I'm not sure it is the same shit. But I was sprayed in the face with a substance that knocked me out."

"Jesus!" He runs his hand through his hair. "I'll get their clothes checked out."

Martin hurries off, and I turn to James. "My mother came into my office with a gash on her head."

"What?" James breathes. "Is she okay? Was she with Marco and Ivan?"

"I think so." I nod. "She muttered something about they've been taken."

"Isabella's brother?" James said, his eyes darkening. He glances at Gustav. "No, that's not good, Andrey, if it's…"

"Fucking Konstantin!" I growl.

He nods. "Oh, here." James fiddles in his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. "I was on my way to give you this when I got called by the hospital."

I take the paper, open it, and look at James in disbelief. "Are you sure?" He nods.

"I've got a helicopter ready to go, and I'm coming with you," James tells me. I nod.

"Let's keep this between us," I suggest quietly. "I just need to check on my mother. Can you handle these two?"

I stride back towards my mother's room, my thoughts racing over the name written on the paper—East Port Maine. Lost in contemplation, I collide with someone, and the paper slips from my fingers.

"Sorry," I murmur, pivoting to retrieve the page.

"Is this what you're looking for?" The man extends it to me. As I take it, my gaze flicks down to his shoes—expensive leather, the kind a wealthy playboy might wear.

"Thanks." I nod and take the paper from him.

"No problem." He turns and walks off, whistling as he goes.

There's something familiar about him. I shake the feeling off and go into the waiting room, where I freeze—Urie is lying slumped over on the line of chairs I left him. I feel for a pulse —he's alive. Then I remember where I saw him. He's one of Konstantin's men.

I turn and rush out of the room, yelling for help before going to the room my mother should be in. A nurse walks by.

"Where is Mrs. Grace Belov?"

"Oh, her son just came to take her home," the nurse informs me. "What a lovely man."