Part of Your World

Good Luck

Aria

I stared at the industrial ceiling, watching the slow rotations of the decrepit fans. I tried my best to listen intently to the heated conversation just outside my door, but as their voices rose and fell, I missed certain bits, making it all the more difficult to decipher. I shivered, pulling the ratty blanket up to my chin.

They were surprised to see Maks—furious, from the tones of their voices and the words they used. I wondered how Maks found me, but he is smart, and with Niko, I should have known it would only be a matter of time. I tried not to dwell too much on our past, on the troubles and tribulations. All I wanted was him, and he was here, and everything was going to be alright.

Right?

"Yebena mat!"

I tensed at the words spoken, for they were loud, angry. I didn't know who spoke them, having not learned to decipher which voice belong to whom yet. It didn't matter. Someone was livid. The sound of a glass bottle shattering jolted me until I was sitting up, my chest heaving with fear. Would they turn their anger onto me?

I curled myself into a ball, pressing my back against the cold wall. I had whistled at Maks, knowing he would understand that I was in danger, that this wasn't my choice to be here. But what if that got him hurt? What if he stormed in here without a full plan because that's just how he was? I gnawed anxiously on my lip as the voices outside raged. They kept repeating the same thing: he's here, he's here.

Who was here? And where exactly was here? Maine, this warehouse? I needed something more substantial. My door slammed open, and I jumped back with a whimper. I was too lost in fear to realize I had made a noise.

Maks

"Did they see you? Did they?" I asked to my father as soon as he entered our hotel room. Niko and Serg stood a few feet behind, tense, waiting for whatever explosion was about to happen. My father's cool, steel eyes glared down at me as he adjusted his suit. He hated how his sons dressed, how we tatted our skin and styled our hair. But he was old school mafia. We were new age, and just as lethal, just as crazy.

His frown deepened, the lines in his face following the motion.

"Da," was all he said in his simple answer. Yes.

I turned to Niko, breathing a huge sigh of relief. Phase one of our plan was in motion. We needed Dmitry to find out my father was here. If he knew, his family would come groveling to him, kissing his ass as they always had. In turn, the Rusalka's would know as well, and there would be dissent between them and Dmitry. It wouldn't take long from there for them to reach out to in some way, to offer peace. The Rusalka's were strong, but we were stronger, and they knew it.

And when they did, hellfire would rain down upon them.

Our father was our last resort. He held me in contempt—all of us, really—for standing against him in defense of Aria. But as soon as he knew who was behind all these lies and deceit, as soon as he saw Aria was in danger from the same family who killed his only daughter, we had him. Niko had predicted it, of course, but his support still surprised me. We'd gone rogue since moving most of our business to New York. I knew he saw it as us abandoning the empire he built.

In my mind, we were simply expanding it.

My father sighed, moving into the living room, greeting my brothers in a curt manner. Niko grabbed him a glass of vodka before they sat and talked in hushed tones. I checked my phone, waiting for information from Nick and Jonah, but there was nothing. I shot a text to Claire, letting her know nothing had changed yet. Not that Claire knew a whole lot anyways, but she had still been worrying obsessively.

I sank into a chair, staring out the window into the stormy, snowy night. Where was she? Was she cold? Did she still hate me for those horrible things I'd said? Or would she forgive me when this was all over?

But the worst thought of all was never seeing her again. She'd faced death once and won. Would she be so lucky again? I refused to think otherwise. She was mine. I had chosen her, and she had chosen me, and that was it. There was no looking back, there was no thought that she may perish. She'd promised me we would die together in our sleep, old and grey, surrounded by our own empire.

I wouldn't let her break that promise to me. Ever.

But then there were the thoughts that she was enduring worse while she was in their clutches. I'd voiced that to Niko, but he'd calmed me, saying they wouldn't be that stupid. If they laid a finger on her, we wouldn't just kill them; we'd torture them, and their families. I was not above doling out such a cruel form of justice. Eye for an eye. If they hurt Aria, I would stop at nothing to hurt someone they loved, and I would do it before their very eyes.

I believed they knew this. I had a reputation as a psychopath. In many ways, I was one. Aria was the only thing that kept me from leaning into that with abandon. Without her, I knew I was doomed.

I watched as snowflakes meandered lazily to the ground below at this blue hour. It was beautiful here in Maine. I wondered if Aria missed it. I think part of her always would, with her memories of her mother cemented here for good. Where would we settle when this was all over, if she still wanted me? New York, Maine? Washington, near Nick and Ellie? Maybe even Russia? I had no idea, but the world would be ours, I would make sure of that. I would give her anything and everything she could ever want.

I closed my eyes, remembering how her lips felt on mine, remembering how she felt beneath me in bed, or pressed up against me in the shower. My inked hands contrasted so drastically with her pale, lush skin. I loved it, the good mixing with the evil. I yearned to wrap my fingers in her hair as I ground into her, deep, until I felt that resistance that told me I was as far in as I could hope to go.

I wanted to hear her small moans, or even a peep—anything. That first night with her was absolute bliss, and from that moment on it was nothing but heaven. Something I didn't deserve but wanted all the same. When I got her back, I would never stop worshipping her like the goddess she was.

I felt my phone buzz in my hand, pulling me from my thoughts as my father's and brother's voices mingled quietly in the background. I was hoping for it to be Nick, or Jonah—maybe even Claire.

But I wasn't that lucky.

Shaking, my finger slid open the lock screen on my phone and into the message. I was never prepared to see the photo attached, a scene that played over and over in my most hellish nightmares.

Violet's dead eyes stared up at me, purple bruises littering her neck like it was jewelry. The words below dropped into my stomach like lead, and I nearly vomited from the anguish, pain, fury—every emotion imaginable.

You and daddy couldn't save her. Good luck this time.