Cruel Vows

When he sees us approaching, he stands and crosses his arms over his chest. “What games are you playing at, Massimo?”

“No game.” I shake my head. “We just need you to listen to what we have to say.”

Spartak places a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Indeed.” He gives his a son a glare to sit down, pushing him back into his seat. “We must trust that Remy and Massimo aren’t stupid enough to come and meet us on our turf without a good reason.”

“Right,” I say, as my father moves forward and puts the evidence down on the table, sitting opposite Maxim.

“There’s a plot at foot to annihilate us all.”

“Annihilate?” Spartak says, laughing. “That sounds a tad dramatic to me.”

“No, it’s not.” I nod at the table. “Sit down and we’ll explain.”

A muscle in Spartak’s jaw ticks at being told what to do, but he sits. “Let’s hear it then.”

“Rourke Callaghan came to us a week ago with this information.”

Spartak growls. “Callaghan is involved.” He glares at me. “You didn’t mention that on the phone.”

“I mentioned it to Imalia, I assumed...”

He purses his lips. “Continue.”

“The Estrada Cartel has been playing us all for fools. They’ve got a ploy to bring down all three of our families,” Father says.

Spartak’s brow furrows. “And Massimo mentioned it involves someone in my family?”

“Yes, Adrik is involved. We believe he’s leading the operation.” Father flips open the file and pulls out the photos and evidence. “He’s planning to blow all three families off the map entirely, so to speak.”

Spartak’s face pales, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him affected by anything. “Adrik?” he confirms, shaking his head. “Not my brother?”

My brow furrows. “Why would your brother be involved?”

He shrugs. “A hunch I had.”

“We all had,” Maxim adds, running a hand through his hair. “Adrik never crossed my mind.”

“No, we have not linked your brother to this from the intel we gathered or the Callaghan Clan gathered,” Father confirms.

Spartak looks him directly in the eye. “And what do you propose we do about this?”

“We might not have a choice but to work together to bring them down.” I swallow hard as you can’t bring down the cartel. They’re too powerful. “Or at least squash the plan before it can get off the ground.”

Father glances at me. “We can’t take out the cartel. Their strength is down in Mexico and if we declare war on them, then...” I shake my head. “It wouldn’t be good. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Of course,” Maxim says, shaking his head. “But how do we stop them, then?”

“We foil the plan from the inside and ensure they can’t carry it out. Rourke has a plan, but he hasn’t discussed the semantics with us yet.”

Maxim and Spartak speak in Russian together, clearly not wishing for us to understand their discussion.

“Shall we leave you to discuss it?” I ask.

Spartak shakes his head, holding his hand up. “Wait, one moment.”

They continue on for another minute and then finally; it appears they come to an agreement.

“We’re in. What ever the plan is, let us know.” Spartak runs a hand over his hair. “The only condition is that you must let us have Adrik when it’s over.”

The look in Spartak’s eyes is one of pure bloody violence. He wants the chance to kill him himself, his own flesh and blood.

We’re pretty ruthless as a family, but we’d more likely just exile a traitor in the famiglia, not kill them.

“Deal,” Father says, nodding. “I’m sure Rourke will agree to it too.”

“But is Rourke on board with us being involved?” Maxim asks.

“I believe so,” I say.

“As he won’t drop this bullshit notion that we killed his father, which is a damn lie,” Spartak says, cracking his knuckles. “Someone killed him to set us up.”

My brow furrows. “Could it have been Adrik?”

Spartak thinks, nodding. “Possibly. He could have wiped the CCTV pretty easily.” He growls. “When I get my hands on that kid, I’m going to—”

Maxim grabs his shoulder. “You need to be cool. We can’t alert him to the fact we know anything about it until we have a plan in place.”

“Yes, it’s important he suspects nothing. We’ll be in touch soon and let you know where we’ll meet to go over the plan,” I say, standing.

My father stands but lingers. “How is Imalia?”

Spartak smiles, but it’s not one of those creepy smiles of his. It’s genuine. “She’s very well. In fact, she’s waiting to say hello.” He calls back toward the VIP area. “Come out, baby girl.”

I tense a little when I hear him call her that.