Page 74 of Scarred Bratva King

“Then me and you go to war. Well, you and my lieutenants. I’m staying out of the country for now. Both sides fill the streets with blood until one of us emerges victorious at last, rules over New York forever.”

“And if I refuse?”

He shrugs. “Then I have no choice but to kill you both. I’m not a fan of killing women but if you push me, I will push back. Your choice.”

The screen goes black.

34

VERONICA

Iwake to an empty bed.

The sheets beside me are cold, which means Maxim has been gone all night again.

My fingers skim over the space he should occupy, the ghost of his presence lingering in the rumpled fabric.

A dull ache spreads in my chest, irrational but real. I should have told him last night about the pregnancy. I’ll do it now. If I can find him.

Is Vito Lombardi dead? Did it happen while I slept? I was up so long worrying that I crashed out in the end. Woke up just now. Alone.

I push the blankets off, slipping out of bed and pulling on the first sweatshirt I can find. The quiet hum of the mansion feels different today.

Is it possible that Maxim is dead? No, someone would have told me already.

Padding barefoot down the hallway, I listen for him, expecting to hear the faint click of his lighter or the low murmur of his voice on a call. But the place is silent.

A flicker of unease presses against my ribs, quickening my steps. When I reach the front entrance, the unease solidifies into something real.

The doors are wide open, letting in the crisp morning air. And outside, Maxim is standing by his car, loading a suitcase into the trunk.

My suitcase.

My stomach drops.

“What are you doing?” My voice comes out sharp, cutting through the morning stillness like a blade.

Maxim doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t pause. He doesn’t even turn around as he secures the latch on the trunk, his movements measured. The way he always is before something bad happens.

I step onto the stone driveway, the cool ground biting at my bare feet. “Maxim,” I press, coming up behind him. “What the hell are you doing?”

He exhales slowly before turning to face me, his expression unreadable. The morning light casts sharp shadows on his face, making him look impossibly distant.

“You need to leave,” he says simply.

The words knock the breath from my lungs. “Excuse me?”

“Vito made me an offer,” he says, shutting the trunk with a firm click. “You leave today. This time tomorrow we’re at war with the Italians. You need to be out of here before you get caught in the crossfire.”

I stagger back a step, disbelief slamming into me with the force of a freight train. “You agreed to send me away? Why?”

“This isn’t up for discussion, Veronica.” His voice is colder now, sharper. He turns back to the car, gripping the edge of the trunk.

“I don’twantto leave,” I snap, my voice rising. “I want to stay here with you.”

Maxim clenches his jaw, exhaling through his nose. “Youhaveto leave.”

“No, I don’t!” My fists clench at my sides. “This isourdecision, Maxim. Not Lombardi’s.Ours.”

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