Page 26 of Born into Darkness

I feel nothing but pity for the man in front of me. He’s a part of this, whether he wants to be or not, but he’s also helped us, and I won’t forget that kindness. The only thing I can offer him in return is a simple, “If I have any say in it, I’ll ask that they spare your life when the time comes.”

The corner of his mouth lifts up, but it’s much closer to a grimace than a smile. “I always knew I wouldn’t live a long life. I’ve made my peace with it.”

He wipes all emotion from his face, reverting back to the mask that he’s probably been wearing since he was a kid. With nothing more than a quick nod, he walks back out, leaving us alone again.

I look down at Max. His eyes are open, but they’re glazed over, and I know he isn’t focusing on anything. His skin is clammy but also hot to the touch, and I hope what I said to Mateo is true. I hope our families get here in time and burn this cartel to the ground.

“Hang on, Max,” I whisper against his skin. “Hang on for me.”

Chapter5

Danil

The sounds of my son having his fingers destroyed one by one fills the room we’re in. The loud, horrific pops mix with his screams of pain. I taste bile at the back of my throat and force myself to watch every second of the video that was just sent to me. It’s the least I can do for him. I couldn’t save him from this. I failed him in the most important way. I’m his father, and it’s my responsibility to keep him safe. I don’t care that he’s twenty-one and a grown man. There’s no time limit on a feeling that strong. I felt it as soon as Simona pushed him into this world and the doctor put him in my arms—this beautiful, vulnerable boy—a precious gift that I’m in charge of safekeeping, and I’ve failed.

“That’s Miguel,” Val says, pointing at the fucker who’s worked his way through four fingers of my son’s hand, and when we hear someone off screen yell something in Spanish, Val adds, “That sounded like Mateo, Lorenzo’s son. He’s the only one who would’ve stopped it.”

Val’s face is as pale as mine must be and guilt hangs on every part of him so strongly that I swear I can feel it. He still blames himself for the fact that he’s here and Max isn’t, but he’s the only one who does. Val was half-dead when he was forced away from Max. He would’ve stayed with my son if given the chance, and he would’ve died next to him. I hold no anger against my nephew.

I reach out and squeeze his shoulder while his dad looks over at me. Vitaly’s eyes also hold guilt. My brother’s usual carefreeI can turn anything into a jokeattitude has dimmed since our boys were taken, and I hate it. He can be a giant pain in the ass, and more often than not I want to punch the fucker for some of his smartass comments, but the truth is I’d give anything to turn back the clock just so I could laugh at one of his ridiculous jokes.

“Stop looking so guilty,” I tell the two of them. “This isn’t your fault.”

They both nod, but I can tell by their faces that my words have done little to lift the heavy weight from their shoulders.

“We’ll be killing them very soon,” Lev says, walking over to stand beside me. Matvey nods his head in agreement while Roman does the same and then holds up his phone, letting me see the plane that’s being tracked on the screen.

“They’ll be here tomorrow morning,” he says, “and then we’re going to Colombia and getting Max back.”

The Medvedev Bratva is flying in to join forces with us. Vasily Medvedev’s daughter is being held with my son. We’ve never united with another Bratva, but we need all the help we can get. We’re going up against one of the biggest cartels in operation right now, and we can’t show up in their territory with anything less than a small army. We need to annihilate them, and we have a better chance of doing that with the Medvedev family at our side.

Luka and Damien, Roman’s sons, are going over the map we have spread out with Sasha, Lev’s son. My nephews stay focused on what’s about to happen, even though I can tell the video we just watched is still haunting them. The look in Sasha’s eyes is even more dead than usual. I’m sure he’s still looking forward to the bloodbath he’s about to be swimming in, but seeing his cousin being tortured isn’t sitting well with him. I know him well enough to know that it’s not because the visuals were particularly upsetting. My nephew excels at torture, but he doesn’t like seeing his cousin on the receiving end of it. If Lorenzo Amaya hadn’t taken my son, I might feel sorry for what’s about to happen to him. As it is, I hope the fucker dies an excruciatingly slow death and then spends whatever afterlife there is in a burning pit with a pitchfork shoved up his ass.

I scrub a hand over my face, wishing I could force the video I just saw out of my mind. My eyes feel like I’ve rubbed sandpaper on them, and I’m so tired I can barely think. My body is giving out from pure exhaustion, but my brain refuses to be quiet. A rage unlike anything I’ve ever known settles in my chest and refuses to let go. All I see are the images of my son’s ruined hand, and all I hear are his screams of agony and the sharp pops of his fingers being wrenched cruelly out of alignment.

I’m going to fucking kill them, every goddamn one of them.

“You need to sleep.”

I turn my head at the sound of Matvey’s gravelly voice.

“I can’t,” I tell him.

He nods, understanding filling his dark eyes. When his wife was kidnapped, he barely slept for the two years it took us to find her. He’s very familiar with the hell I’m living in, so he doesn’t waste his time arguing with me about sleep or food or all the other shit I need to be doing so I can function as a human being. Instead, the man who used to be unable to tolerate touch, gives me a hug and cups the back of my head.

“We’re getting him back tomorrow, brother,” he tells me “You just need to survive one more fucking day.”

I nod and hug him back, refusing to give in and crumple to the floor. My wife and youngest son are counting on me, and Max is counting on me to keep my shit together long enough to rescue him. I refuse to let them down more than I already have. I can fall apart after he’s safe. For now, I grit my teeth and hug my brother back before pulling away and making my way to the door.

“I need to get back to Simona,” I tell them. Thoughts of my wife nearly break my heart in two, and I force myself to leave the office building we’ve been using as our meeting place since the boys were first taken. None of us want our wives seeing what’s really happening. It’s pure luck that Niki isn’t here right now. I’d forced him to leave several hours ago and told him he wasn’t allowed to come back until he’d eaten and slept for at least eight hours. He’d obeyed, but he hadn’t wanted to. I never want him to see the video we just saw. He’s seen enough over his seventeen years thanks to his ability to gain access to even the remotest, most locked-up places on the internet. He doesn’t need to add to it.

“We’ll see you in the morning. I’ll send Lorenzo the message we agreed on,” Roman says, giving my shoulder a squeeze when I walk past to shove my laptop into the worn leather messenger bag I’ve been using since I was a teenager.

“I’ll be there,” I tell him, already counting down the hours until the plane lands and we’re able to join forces with the Medvedev brothers. My brothers and I are meeting at Roman’s and driving to the private airfield together before bringing them back to his house. All our wives will be staying with Simona at Roman’s house while we’re gone. I don’t want her to be alone, and it’ll make it easier for the men we leave behind to guard them.

On the drive back to my apartment, I try to calm my mind by counting the cars around me. Counting has always kept my overactive brain in check, but tonight nothing is helping. Every few seconds, my thoughts are pulled back to the video I saw as my son’s screams ring in my ears. By the time I turn into the underground garage and pull into my reserved spot, I’m so angry I’m shaking. Fisting the steering wheel, I force myself to take a few calming breaths, knowing I can’t go up there looking like this. My wife will immediately know something new has happened. I’ve never lied to her before, but I’ve hidden the photos that Lorenzo has sent me, and I’ll never allow her to see the video of our son. It would kill her, and I refuse to allow her to be hurt like that. Her imagination is already making her every waking minute a nightmare. She doesn’t need to know that it’s far worse than she’s imagined.

When I’m ready, I step into the private elevator and push the button for the penthouse. I’m hoping she’s asleep because she’s just as exhausted as I am, but I’m not at all surprised to find her up and waiting for me. Her blue eyes are bloodshot and watery, and seeing how much pain she’s in guts me to my core. For everything I’m feeling, she’s feeling it double. The baby who grew inside her, the one she pushed into this world, has been cruelly taken from her. I love my son immensely and unconditionally, but it’s not the same thing as a mother’s bond. How can it be? I never felt him move inside me, never held him to my chest and fed him from my own body. The connection I have with my son is strong, but the one he holds with his mom is stronger, and she’s feeling that severed connection in her soul. Every day without our son is slowly killing her. She’s so fucking strong, though. I wish she could see herself how I see her. She fears she’s falling apart, but all I see is strength when I look at her.

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