Page 26 of Never Distract a Biker

"Remember the beach?" I ask, voice barely above a whisper. "You loved the sea. You said it made you feel free." My throat tightens at the memory; saltwater air, her laughter ringing over the waves.

The beeping of the heart monitor punctuates the silence, each beep a moment passing, a moment lost. I lean closer, my lips brushing her temple. She's so cold, and I want to wrap her in warmth, shield her from this chill that has nothing to do with the night.

Mom's chest rises and falls, each breath a whisper against the stillness. I stay, watching over her, the guardian now instead of the guarded. I let several happy memories wash over me, a cascade of moments that shaped my very being. I soak them in, hold them close, while outside the window, the city sleeps unaware of my struggle.

This vigil is mine alone, this final act of love. I am her daughter, her Scarlett thread, the one she poured her life into. And as the night deepens, I keep my watch steadfast, a watch over the love we share until dawn or until the universe decides it's time for her to rest.

11

Viktor

I have just finished my first official meeting with top members of the organization, and they all have the same question.

‘How is the investigation going?’

Well, I’ve promised to dig out whoever is behind this chaos, and I mean it.

The weight of my phone in my hand is like a lifeline threading across continents. First, I call Thiago, then Sergei in Moscow, then Ricardo in Miami. Their voices, usually so sure, now tremble with uncertainty. They are now troubled about their safety, seeing as a hit on Igor could go this smoothly.

"Anything," I press them. "A whisper, a rumor—I need it all."

In the shadows, screens flicker as I look at surveillance footage from when my father arrived in Moscow through them. Faces flash by, going about their activities, oblivious to the fact that their actions might hold the key to everything. My hands grip the edge of the desk, knuckles whitening as frustration gnaws at me. I scour each pixel for the truth hidden within, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. The night drags on, my pulse thundering with every dead end. I’m relentless, pausing only to jot down notes or to instruct my men, the fire of vengeance burning brighter with each passing moment.

"Pause there," I tell Zasha. We zoom in on a hooded figure slipping through an alley. A dead end, but every detail is a thread, one that might lead me to the heart of this treachery.

Lev and Zasha faces still unknown in the Russian crime world, are weapons in my arsenal. I’m damn well going to leverage that. I send them out to hunt for words in alleys, clubs, and any whisper they can bring back.

Days later, this strategy pays off, and I find myself deep within the underbelly of Volgograd, where loyalty is bought with blood, and secrets are currency. My presence alone commands attention, but today? I wield fear like a blade.

"Speak," I demand of a cowering informant I’ve been told knows all the latest and juiciest stories. His eyes dart away, but he knows better than to lie.

"Rumor has it that the Makarov clan has a newPakhan, and that he is a beast," he stammers.

“Congratulations, you are one of the first to meet him,” I say, smiling with deadly sweetness.

His gaze drops, and my eyes follow. This fucking fool is in the middle of peeing himself. Pathetic.

The trip yields nothing I do not already know, and frustration gnaws at me. Two months have passed since my father’s murder, and still, no concrete lead. Back in the office, Yelena's hand is steady as she offers me a drink. I refuse; my mind must stay clear. There’s a map spread before us, now littered with notes and names. Each could be a piece of the puzzle; each could be a knife waiting to strike.

"Pursue every name as a prime suspect," I remind myself.

This hunt consumes me. Day bleeds into night, and still, I push on. Every lead followed; every rival cornered. A trail of broken bones and nine dead bodies now follows my investigation, but I do not give a fuck. My name strikes fear even in the hardest of hearts. They know Igor’s son has returned, and he thirsts for justice.

"We must find them," I urge Zasha and Lev, who nod with grim determination. They have been my allies since my days in New York. Seen me bleed and fight. Now, we hunt together.

"War," I murmur, staring at the board that charts my father’s last days. I am at the center of a bloody war and yet I do not know who the enemy is. I slam my fist into the wall again. Pain radiates through my body, and I allow it to flow through myveins. I will unravel this mystery, and retribution will rain like fire when I do.

"Vengeance," I promise my father’s ghost, "will be ours."

Days later, my phone beeps. It’s a message from Lev:

Pee Pee Boy has some information.

???

He insists on telling you himself.

Bring him in.

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