Page 111 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

No. This isn’t surrender.

Sometimes, the only way out is through the fire.

I tap the screen and duck beneath a narrow awning, sheltering from the downpour as it connects. It rings once. Twice. Three times.

Then her voice crackles through the line.

“Mila? It’s me. We need to talk.”

Chapter 34

Walk into the Fire

Vasiliyi

The sleek glass walls of Volkov Enterprises gleam like polished lies. A fortress dressed in corporate skin, hiding blood-soaked roots beneath its marble spine. Manhattan stretches out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a skyline of ambition and decay, but all I see are threats. Every shadow drips with possibility. Every silence could be a setup. The Glock under my suit digs into my ribs, a hollow comfort when the war’s already on our doorstep.

“We need to talk about the club,” Igor says, his voice low, strained. He stands by the window like it’s a confessional, hands braced against the glass. The city reflects back at him, distorted and cruel—just like us. “Vladimir’s men are circling.”

Nikolai cuts him off, pacing like a caged animal. He hasn’t sat since the meeting started, too tense, too wired, too close to breaking. “Forget the fucking club. We are being hunted.”

My phone buzzes.

Galina.

Relief hits like a needle to the vein—short-lived and cruel.

[Galina]: Jaromir is working with Yakov

[Galina]: I can’t stay here

[Galina]: It’s not safe

[Galina]: I left through the tunnels

My breath stutters.

It clicks. All of it. The strange silences from guards who should’ve checked in hours ago. The way the usual updates slowed to a trickle. Delays that felt like nothing at the time but now reek of sabotage. And underneath it all, the scent of something rotten festering beneath our carefully laid plans. We’ve been bleeding from the inside, and I didn’t see it until now. “It’s not Vladimir,” I say, voice sharp. “It’s Yakov.”

Igor flinches. “But Vladimir’s men hit the club?—”

“That was misdirection,” I snap. “Vladimir wants property. Yakov wants bodies. He wants to bleed us dry. Piece by piece. Not for power. For punishment.”

Igor’s face hardens. “He blames me. For Ana. For keeping my son—his nephew—from him.”

“And now he’s going after what we can’t afford to lose.” Nikolai’s voice is quiet now, deadly. “He’s not after turf. He’s after hearts.”

I nod once. “We need to find them.”

Katya. Katarina. The women who tethered us to something human. Gone. Snatched while we watched the wrong threat.

We spiral into strategy—plans that start strong and crumble under the weight of uncertainty. The footage Nikolai pulls is useless. Blurred faces. License plates ghosted. The tech team digs deeper, but we’re behind. We’re always behind.

My phone rings again.

Mila.

My stomach sinks.

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