Sinful Hearts: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance
Sinful Hearts: Chapter 36

“You don’t want to do this.”

Gavan smiles coolly. “Want has very little to do with it. You’ve chosen a path against me, Hades, simple as that. All of you have.”

Ares licks his lips, trying to remain calm. “Gavan, you need to listen—”

“I outgun you three-to-one, and that’s before the twenty other men I have upstairs. So, no, Ares,” he rasps coldly, “I don’t need to do a goddamn thing. Lower your guns. All of you.”

I glance at my brothers and Castle. Ares gives a quick nod of his chin.

There’s no reason to have a shootout right now and go down in a hail of Russian bullets.

The four of us lower our weapons to the floor.

Gavan smiles again. “Yes, I thank you for so conveniently leading me to you and walking into a hole in the earth without any other men with you. You’ve made erasing your empire from the face of the fucking planet so much easier for me.”

His eyes narrow as he raises his gun.

“For that, I’ll be quick with the rest of your family—”

“Stop! We’re being fucking played, Gavan!” I snarl. “Look.”

I gesture behind me, to the gaping hole in the wall. Gavan frowns, turning and nodding at one of his men. The guy steps forward, shining his phone flashlight into the darkness.

The Reznikov leader’s brow furrows.

“The fuck is this?”

“A Revolutionary War era weapons cache, along with the remains of the men who were guarding it.”

He stiffens.

“It means this whole fucking garage is a historical preservation site, and Serj is fully aware of that.”

Tsarenko’s lips curl dangerously.

“He’s fucking playing all of us, Gavan. And the deal is just the beginning. Here.”

I reach for my pocket.

Twelve Russian fingers suddenly get real tense.

“It’s my phone,” I growl, leveling my gaze at Gavan. “There’s something you need to see.”

He eyes me suspiciously. Then he nods.

“Slowly.”

I slip the phone out of my back pocket, unlock it, and hand it to him.

“It’s the most recent video in my camera roll. Make sure the volume is up.”

Gavan’s face is impassive as he plucks the phone from my hand and clicks on my camera reel. Suddenly, the sound of Leo and Serj speaking in Russian fills the dirt room.

…And Gavan’s whole expression turns livid.

I see the rage and the realization of the betrayal creep over him as he watches the video in its entirety, twice. Then a third time.

His eyes raise to mine as he hands me my phone back.

“Well?”

I watch the muscles of his neck ripple.

“Where did you get this.”

“Does it really matter?”

His nostrils flare as he looks away.

“No,” he growls. “It doesn’t. Though it might explain my top avtoritet being missing for the last four or five days.”

He swears viciously under his breath in Russian. Then he turns to level his gaze at the four of us.

“opustite oruzhiye,” he growls.

Around him, his men gradually lower and holster their guns. Gavan draws in a slow breath.

“You burned my warehouse,” he hisses quietly.

“And you tried to blow up my fucking family!” Ares roars.

Gavan’s face darkens. “I did not. I don’t imagine it means much to you right now, but you have my word on that. I did not set that bomb. I don’t believe in killing innocents and grandmothers, just as I don’t condone setting children on fire,” he rasps. “In case no one’s translated the complete video for you, that little weasel Pascha Andreev is clearly outlining his plans to go after the children of your vassal families in order to get us at each other’s throats. He very well may have been the one to set the bomb in your pub as well.” His jaw grinds. “Frankly, his actions disgust me. When I replace him—”

“You won’t.”

He glances at me sharply. I lift a non-committal shoulder.

“Consider that a peace offering. You won’t replace him.”

Gavan raises a brow. “Duly noted. I will admit… I did torch your casino.”

“Hope you had insurance on that boat,” Kratos grins darkly.

“How’s your collection of stolen televisions and Playstations doing these days?” Gavan tosses back.

“Enough.” Ares shakes his head, holding his hands up. “We can play this game all day. Who shot first, who did more damage. It doesn’t matter. This was all a setup, and we’ve all been playing right into Serj and Leo’s fucking hands. They want us to burn each other’s empires to the fucking ground, so they can paw through the ashes.”

He glances at Kratos and I, and then levels a look at Gavan.

“I’m choosing to believe you about The Banshee bombing. I hope I never replace out that I’m wrong.”

Gavan nods as my brother continues.

“And being that all of this was set in motion by someone who is clearly a common enemy, I’m prepared to forget about the shot-for-shots regarding each other’s property. No lives were lost on our end.”

“On my end either,” Gavan growls.

“So we don’t have to go to war. We don’t have to be best friends, either, but we don’t need this to go nuclear.”

Gavan smiles mirthlessly. “I have a difficult time seeing us as friends, Drakos,” he growls. “But, that said, war is terrible for business.” He takes a slow, deep breath, and then sticks out his hand. “Shall we agree to lower the temperature?”

Ares glances at Kratos and me. When we both nod, he turns back to the Russian and shakes his hand.

“Consider the temperature lowered. We have no open hostilities with you, starting now. I’ll put the word out to my people immediately.”

“Same.”

“I’ll talk to Cillian,” Castle growls. “But consider the Kildares standing down as well.”

Gavan allows himself a small smile before his face darkens.

“Now, are we going to flip a coin to see who gets to skin Serj Mirzoyan alive?”

“M—Mr. Drakos?”

I pause in the hallway of the long-term recovering wing of Mt. Sinai hospital. Frowning at the sound of a voice I recognize, I turn to peer into the open doorway of the room beside me.

Theo Petrakis smiles nervously at me as I step into his room.

“I—I saw you walking by and just wanted to say hi.”

I nod, smiling at him. “How’s the recovery going, kid?”

He shrugs. “It’s okay. The skin grafts itch like hell, but it’s all healing pretty well. And, hey, my dad came by this morning and told me the good news. We’re not going to war with the Bratva?”

I frown. “We? Theo, you’re just a kid.”

He blinks. “I’m eighteen, Mr. Drakos. My dad’s already teaching me about running the business.”

I smirk, nodding. “Fair enough. But no, there’s no war. We’ve dialed it back. It’s all settled.”

“That’s good to hear.”

I nod.

In the last twelve hours, a lot of things have been settled. First and foremost, no, the Drakos-Kildare alliance will not be shooting it out in the streets with Gavan’s people. All parties on both sides have been informed, and a total cease to any hostilities has been issued.

Gavan did end up flipping a coin in that sub-basement. He even won the toss, too. But he’s not going to be skinning Serj alive.

No one’s going to be doing anything to Serj alive.

Because he’s fucking dead.

Apparently, he and Melik got into a heated argument about the pending sale of the empire. They were both drunk, and when Melik drew a piece on his own father, meant only to intimidate him, it discharged, blowing a hole in Serj’s gut. At which point, Papa Mirzoyan pulled his own gun out, and shot his kid in the chest. Which sounds cold as fuck, unless you’d ever met Melik.

If you had? Yeah, you’d kinda get it.

Both Serj and Melik bled out before anyone found them, and now Vanya is the new head of the Albanian family. It’s currently a big fat “to be determined” what she does with it.

“That’s great to hear,” I sigh. “Look, Theo, I didn’t mean to come down so hard on you that time at Nora Guin’s apartment. Your dad’s an okay guy, and I know you’re a good kid. I just want you to know that.”

He smiles. “Nah, I get it. It must have looked super sketch. But honestly, Mr. Drakos, I wasn’t, like, trying to get with Nora. Nick wasn’t, either. We really were just wanting to chill and hang out. Seriously.”

I nod, my brow furrowing. “Have you talked to her recently? Nora, I mean.”

Elsa hasn’t been seen since the night of the bombing. According to her building super, she hasn’t been to her apartment, and when I dropped by Crown and Black, her friend Fumi told me she was on vacation, after giving me an earful about not hurting her friend.

She didn’t mention not killing her, though.

It’s a thought that keeps me up at night, twisting me back and forth: whether I do want to replace Elsa, to wreak my vengeance on her, or if I never want to set eyes on her again, so I don’t have to do that.

Because if I do replace her, I will. There’s no question about that. Elsa’s the one who was feeding info to Leo. Elsa is the one who knew about our hidden warehouses, and the passcode for the back door of The Banshee.

Presumably, she’s with her fucking father somewhere, given than no one can replace either one of them. But something doesn’t sit well with me about her having brought Nora along for the ride as well. Because I checked her school and her ballet class—she’s been missing since that night, too.

“Nora?” Theo shrugs. “Probably having the time of her life on a beach in Thailand.”

I stiffen. “What?”

“She’s in Thailand. At least that’s what her last TikTok said. She and her sister are there island-hopping for like a month-long vacation.”

Jesus Christ. At Crown and Black, Fumi only mentioned that Elsa was on vacation. Even Alistair, when pressed, too, didn’t seem to know where she’d gone. Only that she’d cashed in a bunch of vacation days that they were all too happy to give her, seeing as she’s their new darling lawyer over there.

“Thailand.”

He nods. “Guess so. I’ve never been, have you—”

“I have to get going. Get well soon, Theo.”

Outside in the hallway, my eyes blaze with fury. Before I know what I’m doing, I duck into an empty waiting room and yank out my phone.

Technically, New York City Director of FBI Operations Shane Dorsey is Cillian’s “guy”, not mine. Cillian’s done him some serious solids that basically made his career. In return, Shane makes sure the FBI turns a blind eye to any questionable Kildare—and now Drakos, too—activity in New York.

It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, and Cillian’s made it clear not to rock that boat even in the slightest.

But I need to know this, and I need to know it now.

Dorsey answers on the third ring.

“Hades,” he growls. “I’m sort of in the middle of—”

“I need the location of two passports.”

He sighs. “It doesn’t stop with you people, does it?”

“Hey, we scratch your back, you scratch—”

“Cillian scratches my back, Hades,” he mutters quietly. “That’s the deal. Look, I can help your family out when I can. But only when Cillian is looped—”

“Remember the time my brother took a fucking bullet, and we let you take the credit for killing the bad guy, which, if I recall correctly, gave you the promotion of a lifetime? Remember that?”

Shane sighs. “It rings a bell.”

“Fucking great. Now can you or fucking can’t you look up the locations of two passports.”

“I’m the Director of New York City Operations for the fucking FBI, Hades,” he mutters. “What the hell do you think?” He sighs again. “Okay. Names?”

“Elsa Guin and Nora Guin.”

“Hang on.”

The line goes silent but for the clicking of a keyboard. Then, he swears.

“What?”

“These are both UK nationals, Hades.”

“And?”

“And the FBI is an American policing force.”

“And?” I growl, growing impatient.

“And it creates serious fucking issues if we’re spending our time spying on the whereabouts of citizens of one of our biggest allies, if not the biggest,” he snaps.

I fight to keep my cool. “Shane, I’ve never asked you for shit. But I really need this.”

“I can’t, Hades. I can’t fucking tell you where they are for about fifteen different legal and international treaty reasons.” He sighs. “But, I can tell you where they are not.”

My brow arches. “That works. So, where aren’t they?”

“Anywhere outside the continental United States.”

“They’re not in Thailand?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“But they’re not there.”

Shane sighs. “I have to go, Hades. I can’t touch this with a mile-long pole.”

He hangs up. I stare at the floor, thinking.

Why is Nora Guin telling her friends she’s in Thailand, when neither she nor Elsa has left the country?

Eilish, the actual reason I came to Mt. Sinai today, smiles as I step into her private room.

“How’re you feeling, blondie?”

She makes a face, shrugging. “Meh, I’m fine.”

“Brought you something to brighten the place up.”

She grins at the bouquet of flowers in my hands. “Such a charmer.”

I shrug, taking the lid off a pitcher of water on her bedside table and putting the flowers into it.

“Hades…”

I glance at Eilish. Her brow is furrowed, her mouth twisted with words she’s not sure about saying out loud.

“Eilish, I don’t want to talk about—”

“Hades, c’mon. She didn’t do any of this. She can’t have.”

“She did,” I growl. “And I know that’s not a pleasant or convenient truth, and I know it fucking stings, believe me, I do,” I snarl. “But it is what it fucking is. She betrayed us all.”

Eilish shakes her head. “I refuse to believe that.”

“Yeah, and I refused to believe that my older brother Atlas was telling the truth when he told me Santa wasn’t real when I was six. But, ho-ho-fucking-ho.”

She looks down.

“She’s the reason you’re in here, Eilish,” I growl. “She’s the fucking reason Sean is—”

I wince as her face contorts.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

Yes, Sean was a good friend of mine. But he was also like a cousin to Eilish and Neve.

Her mouth goes small. “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “I’m coming to the service next week.”

“Want a ride?”

She smiles softly. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

I sigh, rubbing my jaw. “Anything I can get you right now?”

Eilish rolls her eyes. “Honestly? A decent cup of coffee. They’ve been limiting me to one cup in the morning, but that’s like a quarter of my usual intake, and I’m losing it.”

I grin. “One contraband coffee. I can do that. Back in a sec.”

I get up to leave the room. As I brush past the door to Eilish’s ensuite bathroom, the gym bag that was hanging on the doorknob falls off. When I turn to pick it up, I freeze.

“No, you’re not crazy,” Eilish says quietly. “It’s Elsa’s, I know.” She shrugs. “She left it by accident when she came over a few days before”…her face darkens…“you know, what happened. I guess Neve thought it was mine and packed it with my stuff to bring here.”

I swallow, unable to tear my eyes from the bag I’ve seen in Elsa’s office over a dozen times. In her bedroom.

In mine.

“You know how I know she didn’t do any of this?” Eilish says quietly.

I grit my teeth as my eyes raise to hers.

“Because she really liked you, Hades.” Her mouth twists. “I mean, I think she loved you. Or…loves.”

Pain slices into me.

And I love her.

I still fucking love her.

And that’s why this hurts so much.

“I’ll be back with that coffee,” I growl quietly as I turn to leave.

A metallic beeping sound chirps through the room. When my brows knit as I glance at the gym bag on the ground, Eilish sighs.

“Yeah, it did that twice yesterday. Once this morning, too. It just beeps like that. But I’m pretty sure the bag’s empty. Maybe it’s like fob for the front door to her gym or something?”

My frown deepens as I lean down to pick up the bag. Eilish is right: it’s totally empty. No smart watch, no gym fob, no anything like that that might be the source of the beeps. My eyes scan it inside and out, my hands running over the nylon material.

Suddenly, I go still.

There is something in the bag. It’s just not inside the bag.

It’s in the lining.

My pulse thuds as I grab my knife out of my back pocket and flick it open.

“Hades?” Eilish peers at me like I’m insane. “What the hell are you—”

I slice open the lining of the bag just as the beep goes off again. My fingers close around the little metallic disc as I pull it out and hold it up into the light.

A small round circuit board, with a tiny wire, like an antenna, sticking out of it. And a little black circle glued to the back.

No, not a circle.

A microphone.

Someone’s had Elsa’s gym bag bugged. And when my eyes land on the letters printed right above the small watch battery on the circuit board, my whole world goes numb.

It says “battery”.

In Russian.

“What is that?”

I swallow as my eyes lift to Eilish’s. “It’s a short-range surveillance bug.”

“What?”

I hand it to her. Eilish twists it in her hands, her brows furrowing as she peers at it. “The writing on this is Russian.”

I nod.

“Okay, but if Elsa was working for the Russians—”

“Then why the fuck were they bugging her goddamn gym bag,” I finish.

Elsa took this bag everywhere. My house. Her apartment. In locker rooms, and bathrooms. All places she’d never knowingly bring a hot microphone.

And suddenly, it starts to click.

Her drive. The way she’s been married to her job her whole life. The carefully hammered armor around her emotions and her heart. The way it’s always seemed, since the first day I met her, that Elsa was the type of person who was constantly moving forward, because there was no way backward.

But I’m suddenly realizing it wasn’t because she was hungry for tomorrow.

…It’s because she was being chased.

Holy fuck.

Maybe she is Leo’s kid. But I’ve been blinded so completely by my rage that I’ve overlooked the obvious.

She raised Nora alone.

She goes by Guin, her mother’s maiden name, not Stavrin.

She came to New York for a new job—a new life. And then Leo dropped in less than a month later.

She was so cagey about her motives that night at Club Venom—why she went there that night to, come hell or high water, lose her virginity.

Oh shit.

“And he’s angry about a girl. There was a marriage proposal recently concerning the daughter of a would-be ally that is no longer favorable to a traditional man like my son.”

Holy shit.

The would-be-ally was fucking Leo. And Elsa was the goddamn marriage trophy. Her fucking me and losing her virginity that night was to torpedo that arrangement.

She didn’t go to Leo’s place that night afterward to reveal information to him, or to report back on spying on me.

She went there to tell him what she did. And I don’t think it was because she felt like sharing intimate details of her goddamned sex life with her father.

It was a fuck you. A middle finger.

It was finally severing a tie between them.

When it all hits at once, I literally choke from the weight of it slamming down on me.

Holy fuck.

“Hades?”

I raise my wild eyes to Eilish. She frowns.

“What—”

“I don’t think Elsa and her sister ran away with their father,” I murmur. “I think he fucking took them.”

Her eyes fly wide as her hand claps over her mouth.

“Oh my God…”

I yank out my phone and start typing away frantically. I haven’t done this before, because it would be ethically fucked for me to be tracking Elsa’s fifteen-year-old sister. That’s why I linked the keychain panic button I gave Nora and the app monitoring it to Elsa’s phone, not mine.

But I still know the password.

My heart is racing as the app finishes downloading, and I log in with the account I set up for Elsa, hoping and praying Nora’s as smart as I think she is. If I’m right about Leo taking them, I don’t know if he did it separately, or together. But either way, if Nora kept her wits about her, I’m hoping to God she remembered to push—

The app pings with a map location.

The button.

Nora fucking pushed the button. And right now, it’s giving me an exact location to where she is, accurate within a six-foot radius.

Now, I just have to hope that she and Elsa are together.

“Hades?”

“Call your uncle,” I hiss, racing for the door and texting her a screenshot of the map. “Call my brothers. Call Castle. Call fucking everybody! And tell them to get their asses to that location, NOW.”

I bolt out the door and sprint down the hospital hallway.

Praying that Elsa is with Nora.

But mostly….

Praying I’m not too late.