Page 73 of Full Throttle

He held out the phone to me, and I took it without a word. “Stevens,” I greeted.

The Mafia leader got right to it. “He’s still alive?”

I looked down to Kavi’s right hand, Ivan. His face was swelling more and more by the second. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Xander threw his bag into the back, lifting his chin to me before going to the front of the plane. Stepping into the back, I passed the beaten man tied up in rope. Then, I squeezed by the Toyota GT86, the BMW Roadster, and the new Dark Horse Mustang I’d stolen to take my seat. Collin broke the silence. “I’m afraid there was some push back at the meeting today.”

I knew there would be. “Jeremy should’ve told them.”

“What my brother-in-law does or doesn’t tell his men is none of my concern,” he said casually as the back door of the plane closed. A few seconds later, the engines started.

“They deserved to know,” I snapped. I wanted to tell them. They deserved to be in the loop, and after all the secrets I’d been keeping from them, I feared this would only set us back.

“The less people who knew, the better,” Collin assured. “The last thing we need is for Kavi to know we’re in his territory.”

“Right,” I muttered, fastening my seatbelt, the plane rolling down the runway now.

“Did anyone remember you?” he asked.

Darkness hummed within me, satisfied. “Those who did didn’t get the chance to welcome me back.”

I hated all of them, every last fucking one. The Bratva stole years of my fucking life, ruining so much for me. The least I could do was take a few of theirs.

“How many?” Collin asked, sounding unfazed.

“Thirteen.”

He hummed. “Any high ranking?” he pressed.

“A few,” I answered, looking over to Ivan. Years ago, when I’d gotten wrapped up in the Bratva, he was the one who ordered the symbol to be branded on my chest—directly over my heart. They wanted to beat me into submission, figuring the loyalty would come soon after.

Ivan was the only man Kavi kept close; all the others were just a means to an end.

“Any word on Kavi?” I asked.

“He’s underground still,” the Mafia leader said, annoyance lacing his voice.

My jaw clenched as I thought of what seemed like the only solution. “I can go after him—on my own.”

This was met with silence.

“This needs to get done, Collin,” I reminded him. “He’s been fucking with you and Oasis for months. I’m tired of it.”

“Everyone is, Cain. If Oasis wasn’t involved, I would’ve declared a war months ago, but St. Louis isn’t a battle ground. It’s my wife’s home,” he explained. “If it weren’t for her, I’d be going underground.”

Shock slammed into me. “You couldn’t do that. You’re the boss.”

A dark chuckle came from him then. “I was a hit man before that. How do you think I came into power?”

I knew the story—everyone did. “I’ll do it for you,” I said, not offering. The decision was made.

“Just get Ivan to me first. Then, we’ll go from there.”

The phone call ended, and I sigh left me as I leaned my head back against the wall. Minutes later, when we were up in the air, the door to the cockpit slid open, and my brother appeared.

“What did he say?” Xander asked, his eyes void of emotion.

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