BOOK 2
Trapped within the iron grip of the notorious Morroto family, Veronica Garcia's fate hangs precariously in the balance. Days bleed into nights in the suffocating darkness of her prison, where despair threatens to consume her spirit. Each pass...
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WHILESITTINGIN the kitchen with Miguel, discussing business, a sudden, loud slam from the front door startles me. Confused, I turn my head to see Veronica storming in with long, purposeful strides and an emotionless expression on her face.
"Where have you been?" I question with a playful smile, my eyes glinting with curiosity. Veronica halts abruptly, her heels clicking against the floor as she comes to a stop. She twists her head slowly, her gaze locking onto mine with an icy intensity before flicking briefly to Miguel. Her expression remains unreadable, a mask of detachment.
"I went for a drive," she responds dryly, her voice devoid of emotion. Without waiting for a reaction, she turns on her heel and strides away, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the hallway. Her movements are precise and controlled, every step radiating a simmering tension as she disappears from sight.
Confused, Miguel and I exchange puzzled glances, an unspoken question passing between us. With a shrug, I turn my attention back to my drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass. I gently run my pointer finger around the rim, tracing the circle repetitively.
My gaze is drawn upward when I see Felix walking in, confusion etched in his eyes. "Roman, someone named Dimitri wants to speak to you," he reveals, holding out my phone.
Confused as to why Felix even has my phone in the first place, I extend my hand. Felix places the phone into my palm, his expression unreadable.
I put the phone next to my ear, my eyes drifting upward to see Miguel giving Felix a confused look. Felix responds with a subtle nod.
"Hello?" I say, waiting for my right-hand man to respond, my voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of impatience.
"Босс, он сгорел. База, она чертовски развалилась," he shouts over the loud background noise. Frowning, I press the phone closer to my ear. "Дмитрий, о чём ты говоришь?" I grit out, my voice edged with urgency and disbelief.
(Boss, it's been burned down. The base, it's been fucking disintegrated) (Dimitri, what are you talking about?)
"Охранники," he shouts over the screams and sudden shots, "Их убили – дерьмо!" His voice cuts off as he hisses in pain, followed by a grunt.
(The guards.) (They've been killed- shit!)
I hear the phone clatter to the floor, followed by Dimitri's pained grunts. "Dimitri!" I yell, drawing worried glances from Miguel and Felix. No response. Suddenly, two dark chuckles echo on the other end of the line. Frowning, I demand, "Дмитрий, поговори со мной. Что там происходит?"
(Dimitri, speak to me. What's happening over there?)
After a painfully slow wait, I hear a familiar voice. "Petrov," Elijah says darkly, his tone heavy with menace. Pausing briefly, he continues, "We want Diabla and five hundred thousand in exchange for your second-in-command." He chuckles darkly, the sound sending a chill down my spine.
