“Papa, I’m not going anywhere,” I assured. “And I won’t ever let you down. I swear it to you. I swear it on our family name. I’ll”—I fought back a lump in my throat—“I’ll make you proud, Papa. Just give me a chance.”

My father reached forward and took me in his arms. Pressing a kiss to my head, he rasped, “You already do make me proud, Luka. You already do.”

He held me for several seconds before he pulled back. Getting to his feet, he fixed his tie and walked to the door. Before he stopped, he asked, “How is Talia? She’s seemed distracted the few times we’ve talked.”

My head lifted, and I caught the concern on his face. “She’s good,” I replied, leaving any mention of Zaal from the conversation.

He nodded. “Good. She needed this rest.”

With that he walked out the door, and out of my house. I sat on the floor, replaying the conversation, until a throat cleared behind me. I looked back and Mikhail, my personal byki, was behind me.

“You ready?” I asked. “Do we have a location for the cunt?”

Mikhail nodded. “He’s hiding out near the docks.”

I got off the floor, and walked past Mikhail. We got in the town car, the van filled with byki up ahead.

Twenty minutes later, we rolled up to the docks and the warehouse Jakhua was meant to be hiding in. I glanced around the dark and run-down area; the place was desolate.

Mikhail looked at me in the rearview mirror. I lifted my hand and Mikhail gave the order to send in the byki. They filed out of the van and into the warehouse.

I waited for the gunfire.

I waited for the screams, but there was only silence.

Something came through on Mikhail’s earpiece. His pale blue eyes met mine in the mirror. My blood ran cold.

“What?” I asked.

“There’s something inside.”

In seconds I was out of the car and striding across to the warehouse. I burst through the door, only to be met with a huge empty space.

My eyes drifted up to the rafters. Two bodies hung by their necks, their stomachs gutted and their throats slit. I walked closer, my feet walking straight through the pooling blood.

I looked at the men, trying to place them.

“Fuck!” Mikhail hissed from behind me.

I whipped my head around. “What?” I asked, my pulse beginning to slam in my neck.

Mikhail paled.

“What?” I thundered. Mikhail held his head high.

“These were two of my men.”

I frowned and walked toward him. “Why would Jakhua kill them? Why would he set us up just to see two fucking corpses?”

Mikhail shifted on his feet. “These two men were brought back to Brooklyn today. They switched protection detail. They had families, and they’d been away for weeks. I decided to bring them home and have them patrol on home turf.”

I shook my head and opened my mouth. Mikhail spoke before I could. “They were at the house in the Hamptons. They’ve been patrolling up there. They were assigned to the Kostava, to your sister.”

I tensed, every muscle in my body filling with scalding blood. I looked up at the corpses and my stomach instantly sank.

Talia.

Zaal.

“Who informed you of tonight? Who gave you the tip-off?” I asked Mikhail. He paled and looked up to one of the fucks swinging from the roof.

“Andrei,” he replied, and pointed to a corpse.

My hands shook with rage. It was a setup, a motherfucking setup! Ripping a knife from my jacket, I launched it into the heart of the betrayer hanging from the ceiling. The byki stepped back as I fumed with rage.

“Give me your phone!” I ordered Mikhail. He passed it over and I called the house in the Hamptons. All I got was a dead tone.

“The line’s dead,” I said. The byki shifted uncomfortably. Shaking with red-hot anger, I roared and threw the phone against the wall, smashing the fucking thing to pieces. I ran toward the door, the byki following behind.

“Get to the Hamptons! That motherfucker’s set us up. Fucking betrayed by one of our own. Jakhua’s gone back for Zaal! That bastard’s gone back for his man.”

As I ran out the door, fear, real fear, surged through my blood. Talia … that fucker was going to kill my sister.

My mind locked down. My blood ran cold. Only one thing ran through my mind.

Jakhua’s imminent death.

Chapter Seventeen

Talia

Waves crashed on the shore, the sound lulling me into half sleep. Zaal laid his head on my lap, and I stroked through his long hair with my fingers.

Zaal’s hand traced down my stomach, his beautiful jade eyes looking at me with complete adoration.

He was getting better. He looked better. Several days of rest, since finding out about his family, had brought the color back to his cheeks. And he was talking more, remembering more.

“Tell me about them, zolotse,” I said quietly, not wanting to disturb the heady peace we had found in this room.

Zaal glanced up at me, and swallowed. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his head. “Tell me about your family.”

“I only remember some things,” he replied, his accent becoming thicker as emotion took hold. “I remember only certain things about each one of them, about me as a child.”

“Tell me,” I pushed again, and linked my hand through his for comfort.

Zaal closed his eyes. I could see them moving behind his eyelids. His hand tightened in mine and I knew he was pulling images, fractured memories, from his mind. He’d told me he saw only pictures. Only felt certain feelings when remembering them.

But it was something. I feared with the drugs he’d been subjected to for years that he’d have no memories at all. We still weren’t sure about the damage to his body, his mind, but just having something to hold on to, it was a blessing straight from God.

Zaal’s eyes opened. He fixed his gaze on mine. “I remember I liked to lie in the sun,” he rasped, a small curl of his lip gracing his mouth. “I remember my brother coming to sit beside me.” His hand suddenly squeezed mine and his brow furrowed. “I remember us always being together. He was always at my side, I think. Papa’s two boys.”

I fought back the lump chasing up my throat. This man. This six foot six, 250-pound man spoke with such reverie about his lost brother. With such softness and affection in his husky deep voice.

“What else, baby?” I asked, still stroking through his hair.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he pushed himself to remember. “I had a sister Zoya.” He sucked in a deep breath and his body tensed. “She … she followed me everywhere, called me her sykhaara.”

“What does that mean?” I asked soothingly.

Zaal’s lip lifted in a fond smile. “My sweetness.”

Adoration filled his eyes when he said, “She was five. She had long black hair, and such dark eyes they almost matched. A brown so dark it looked like coal. She would always be with me. Told me I would protect her when she was older, when me and my brother led the family.”

My soul splintered when the tiniest tear slipped from the corner of his left eye. His haunted stare searched for mine, and when it connected, he said, “They ripped her from my arms, Talia. The guards, our own traitor guard, ripped her from my neck.” He took a shuddering breath. “She cried my name, her hand reached out for me to save her.” More tears fell, and his hand trembled. “And when they fired their guns, and Jakhua forced me to watch, Zoya’s dark eyes were still watching me, like … like she expected me to save her.”