I wake up to a pounding on the door. “Rafe!”

Sitting up, I swipe a hand over my face. Fuck. My head is pounding, and my stomach feels like a cement mixer. There’s a moment, one blissful moment where all I think about is my hangover, and then everything rushes back in like a flood. Anna. Like a clap of thunder, she rips through my thoughts in an instant. “Rafe!” There’s another rap on the door.

“Yeah?” I croak.

The door opens, and Samuel walks in, his nose now well and truly bruised, courtesy of Una. His eyes flick over me briefly, taking in my clothes from yesterday. “Una left.”

I rub a hand over the back of my neck. “I know.”

He glances over his shoulder nervously before stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “What do you mean you know?” he hisses.

“I saw her last night.”

He drags both hands through his hair and releases an aggravated breath. “Please do not tell the Italians that. She drugged Nero to get away.”

I push to my feet and fight the wave of dizziness. “I have no intention of telling Nero.”

“She went for Anna?”

I nod. “It’s not like I could have stopped her anyway.” He eyes me. “But even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“She’s pregnant, Rafe,” he says quietly.

“I know that.” I snap. “But it’s Anna. I trust that Una wouldn’t just hand herself over in some suicide mission. It’s not how she operates.”

“You trust the Russian?”

“I trust that she loves her sister.” I drag my shirt over my head and wince at my aching muscles. The pounding in my skull is getting louder. I need coffee.

“You look like shit,” Sam says, eyeing me up and down. “I’ll be downstairs.” The door clicks shut behind him

I walk into the bathroom and glance at my reflection in the mirror. Dark circles linger beneath my eyes, and the left side of my face has turned an ugly purple from Una’s right hook yesterday. He’s right. I look like shit, but I can’t muster the will to care.

After a shower and a change of clothes, I go downstairs. It’s sheer chaos. The tension in the penthouse could be cut with a knife. Nero is pacing the length of the kitchen. His hair sticking up everywhere as though he’s been running his fingers through it non-stop. A red mark is very clearly visible on the side of his neck, and I guess that’s where Una drugged him.

I take a seat at the breakfast bar next to Samuel with Gio on the other side. Nero pauses, turning to face me. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and it’s a testament to how rattled he is because I’ve never seen the Italian out of a suit. He’s a mafia boss. A cold killer. He’s the guy I hired to kill my father, a powerful cartel boss. And yet right now, he looks exactly how I feel. Helpless, pitiful…broken.

“Rafael, do you have contacts in Russia?” he asks.

I frown. “I supply the Bratva with coke, but so do the other cartels. They’re business acquaintances only.”

He clenches and releases his fists before resuming his pacing. “We know where she’s heading, but we’d never get there in time. I just need to get someone to stop her.” He slams a palm against the breakfast bar. “But we fucking have no one.”

“Let me make a call.” I slide off the bar stool and go into the living room, standing at the window. I stare at my phone for a moment. Do I try and help him? I let Una go last night because I knew it was her and only her who could get Anna back. My fingers tighten around the phone until my knuckles turn white. I’m not a man of morals. I understand only business and violence, and selfish need. Anna is the most selfish and absorbed need I have. Nero is my greatest business ally, and Una…well, she is something they both love. Where does that leave me? If I loved Anna, truly loved her, surely I’d save her sister? It’s what she would want, isn’t it?

I rest my forehead against the cool glass of the window, hoping to slow the whirlwind of useless thoughts firing through my head.

“Are you going to call Dimitri?” I glance over my shoulder at Samuel.

“I don’t know. I doubt very much that he’ll help.” There’s a moment of silence. “Would she hate me for letting her sister go?” I whisper.

“Does it matter? You love her. Do you really care if she hates you as long as she’s safe?”

“We’ve only ever known basic survival, Sam. The cartel was our salvation.” I look at him. “I feel like I can’t fucking breathe without her. I should be better, but I’m selfish, especially when it comes to her. I’d sacrifice a lot more than her sister to have her back.”

“Good. Because you’re probably going to have to.” He holds his hand out for the phone, and I place it in his palm. “I’ll call Dimitri.” He eyes me meaningfully, and I nod, walking out of the room. It’s best that it’s out of my hands.

* * *

The waiting is the worst part of all of this. There, in Nero’s penthouse, we’re like caged animals all waiting to know our fate. Nero and his guys have been in the office for hours, no doubt trying to work out how to get Una back, while I’m here trying to get Anna back. We’re each working to selfish needs while knowing that the women we love would sacrifice everything for each other.

The office door bursts open and Nero walks out looking like he’s about to end the world as we know it.

“Una called,” he says through gritted teeth.

“What did she say?”

He glances at me, his expression ice-cold. “Goodbye. So now we do things the old-fashioned way.”

I lift a brow. “What did you have in mind?”

A slow, wicked smile pulls at his lips. “Blood, war, carnage. We’ll bring the Russians to their knees. Let’s see how long they keep hold of two women when their women are dying, and their businesses are crippled.”

A sense of relief rises in my chest, a spark of hope chasing away the helplessness that I’ve been feeling ever since Anna was taken. Action I can do. Waiting I cannot. But I have to give Una a chance. She sacrificed herself for her sister, and even though I have no faith that the Russian will stay true to his word and release her, I have to give it a second. Don’t I? The problem is, Nero is looking at me like he’s ready to set the world on fire and laugh as he watches it burn. I know the feeling well, and I know what he’s capable of.

“What do you need?” I ask.

He takes a tin from his pocket, removing a cigarette and placing it between his lips. His lighter clicks, the flame dancing over the end of the cigarette before the scent of smoke wafts around me. “I need you to take down their business. All of their drugs come from Mexico.”

I scrub a hand over my jaw. “They deal with several cartels.”

“Then do what you have to in order to cease their supply.”

I nod hesitantly. “What about their guns?”

His lips twitch, though any trace of humor is completely absent from his expression. This is the Nero Verdi that even the Italians are terrified of. He carries a certain madness that’s so very unpredictable. “They buy from the Arabs. I have a man there.”

“Get me the times and places of the shipments and my men will handle it.” Subtly, my men will handle it subtly. If I’m careful, I can work this to my advantage. I can have zero culpability. Nero will cause enough problems that they’ll be focused on him, and as such, they’ll assume that any missing drugs or guns are due to him. I just want to get my girl and get out, but Nero and I are bound in this situation just as surely as the two sisters we’re fighting for. We have been since the moment he asked me to take Anna, perhaps even long before then. He did kill my father for me, after all, and that kind of favor brings with it an unbreakable loyalty.

He inhales a deep breath. “Good. Gio?” His guy appears like a ghost. “Get me some C4. Lots of it. New York is about to witness the biggest Russian barbeque it’s ever seen.”

Yes, madness, thinly disguised as genius, that’s what Nero Verdi is.

Standing up, I leave the room with Samuel falling into step beside me. “Give it three days and then make contact with Nicholai Ivanov.”

I hate to wait that long. Each minute feels like the lowering of an axe towards Anna’s exposed neck, but I have to give Una a chance. She went there for a trade. There’s no incentive for him to be honorable about this. However, if I jump the gun too soon, I’ll be handing him the use of my port when he may have released her anyway. Three days is as long as I’m willing to give it but beyond that…well, fuck business. This has gone far beyond that. I don’t care about a port anymore.

She’s all that matters.