Page 2 of Taming a Ruthless Heart

“This isn’t about being soft.”I stop pacing long enough to face him, my jaw tight.“It’s about getting back at Igor for everything that he’s done to us.”

Tommy doesn’t flinch.He’s ice-cold, like always.He’s got the fire of ambition in his blood—the merciless drive that makes him such a good soldier in our business.“And what about Rose?You think Igor’s gonna let you take his kid?You’re not just stealing his wife—you’re stealing his legacy.That’s not gonna end well for you.”

His words slice deep, but I don’t let the effects show on my face.I’ve spent years perfecting the art of masking how much the hits hurt.“I’m not leaving that little girl behind.She’s innocent in all of this.”

Tommy moves closer, his eyes narrowing.It’s not just my brother standing in front of me.My father’s ruthless blood, the weight of the Boyle name, the darkness we’ve inherited.“She’s not your problem, Dave.None of this is.

“Igor is a Pakhan, which means he’s extremely powerful,” Shelby interjects, as if I needed the reminder.

“Not more powerful than our Syndicate.”I reply, drilling him with a stern gaze.“Or have you forgotten I’m still the leader?”

“Have you?”Tommy spits out.“You’re risking everything—the business, our allies, the family—for someone who walked out on you five years ago.For what?Love?”

The mention of that word, that sentiment, makes something inside me crack, but I keep my reactions hidden.Love.What the hell do any of us know about that?I grind my teeth, forcing down the memories that claw at the back of my mind.The nights with Alexia, her skin against mine, her laugh when we were still stupid enough to believe the world wouldn’t be able to swallow us whole.

“Don’t talk to me about love, Tommy.This isn’t about that.”My voice is hard, sharp.“Alexia’s in over her head, and Rose is an innocent in all this.You wouldn’t leave a kid behind, and neither will I.”

For a heartbeat, Tommy’s mask slips, a flicker of something real in his eyes.He tightens his jaw, holding back.He won’t admit it, but he understands.I glance at Shelby to see the same expression.Leaving the innocent behind isn’t in our blood—not even in this twisted life of ours.We would never harm the innocent or allow them to suffer when it was within our power to prevent it.

“War’s coming.You better be ready for it.”Shelby’s voice lowers, and the room feels smaller.“Igor won’t let this slide.And neither will the rest of his Bratva allies.You know how this works.”

“I know.”My words are clipped, cutting the conversation short.There’s nothing left to say.“When it’s over, you’ll see I made the right call.”

Tommy tilts his head, the ice still in his eyes.“For your sake, you better hope you do.”

We stand there, the silence between us thick with unexpressed feelings.We’ve always been a united front—the Boyle brothers against the world.When I gave up trying to claw my way out of this life and embraced the darkness as my legacy, Tommy and Shelby stood by my side.Nothing has ever shaken their support until today.

Tommy takes a step back, running a hand through his short, dark hair, letting out a breath.“Just don’t drag us all down with you, Dave.We’ve lost too much as it is.”

The door clicks shut behind them, but Tommy’s judgment lingers like smoke in the air.His words echo in my head.Mom’s passing is still too fresh and painful for us to talk openly about it.But I can read between the lines so I know that was the loss he meant.

As for Alexia and Rose, am I making the right call?Is this about more than just getting under Igor’s skin?

I take a breath, forcing down the voices in my head.There’s no room for second-guessing now.I made my decision the moment I answered Alexia’s call.

Rose.

She’s already with my men, hidden away in a safe house in Wychmere Harbor.We grabbed her first, hours ago.Igor’s security was too focused on Alexia to see us coming.Taking Rose was the easy part.

Taking Alexia?That’s where things will get really complicated.

The growl of the Maserati’s engine fills the narrow alley as I pull up, gun in hand, ready.My men flank Alexia’s limo and entourage, their SUVs blocking any escape.Igor’s men spill out of their cars like cockroaches in a panic, but they’re too slow.Too unprepared.

I fire first.

The sound of gunfire rips through the street, and my pulse kicks into overdrive.Adrenaline floods my veins and everything snaps into place.The chaos of the fight, the deafening blasts, the coppery scent hanging in the cold air—all of it sharp, urgent, alive.Gunpowder stings the back of my throat, its familiar burn fueling the rush.My men move with precision, covering my back, but it’s my bullets dropping most of Igor’s thugs.I’ve done this too many times to count.But it never feels any less mechanical.

One of the goons gets a shot off, the bullet slamming into my chest.Pain radiates through my ribs, but the Kevlar vest absorbs the worst of the impact.It’s a reminder of just how close I always am to the edge.

“Asshole should’ve aimed for my head,” I mutter through gritted teeth as I take aim.

I don’t miss.One shot between the eyes, and he’s down.

The moment the last Bratva thug drops, I’m at the limo door.My pulse is still hammering, adrenaline coursing through me like wildfire.I yank the door open, and there she is.

Alexia.My Sandy.

She’s curled up in the seat, arms wrapped around herself, her body trembling like a cornered animal.Her hair is a mess, the long blonde strands sticking to her pale, tear-streaked cheek.For a second, something inside me wavers—an old, long-buried instinct to protect her.

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