𝟷𝟺. "... 𝙸'𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎"

TRAVIS'S P.O.V

I picked up the cufflinks from the table and fixed it on the blazer. The resounding knock on the door, cut me off my thoughts and I looked back. "Come in"

The door opened and Rafael walked in, "Boss, the car is ready" he informed and I nodded before turning to him fully. "Is everyone set and aware of the plans?" I asked.

"Yes boss" he answered, casting his head down. "I won't condone any slip ups" And with that I headed out of the room. Getting down the stairs, I felt my phone beep in my back pocket, getting it out, it was a reminder of what tonight was.

It has began as a different night for me but what it really was...was inevitable. I shoved my phone back in and headed out. The cars were lined up, one behind the other.

All my men mounted in place, ready to strike if I ordered. I got into the car while Silvano gave one final instruction before getting in with me.

We hit the road in moments and I read the Umbra I received this evening, this one was from Hastings, they didn't know I was no longer in Los Angeles.

I threw it out the window without a second glance, refocusing on the road ahead. The city lights blurred past, neon streaks against the dark.

"The White Night Gathering," Silvano murmured beside me, his voice laced with quiet apprehension. "Who’s on the guest list?"

I exhaled slowly, my fingers clasping together. "The Cosa Nostra. The Triads. The Kinsella Syndicate. The Cartel."

He hummed in acknowledgment, but his gaze remained sharp. "And let’s not forget the Petrovna sisters." A pause. "There have been whispers…"

I turned my head slightly, catching his expression from the corner of my eye.

"Vasilisa is dying," he continued, his voice lower now. "She doesn’t leave the confines of her estate anymore."

"We need her alliance."

Silvano tilted his head, studying me. "Why are you so sure she’ll betray family?"

I kept my eyes on the road. "Because when family betrays you, you have no choice but to return the favor."

Silvano let out a soft chuckle. "Cassian broke away from the Bratva a long time ago. Became the opposition. I'm doing them a favor." I added.

Then, he leaned back, stretching like he wasn’t suggesting something reckless. "But… you know, there’s an easier way to get what we want."

I glanced at him. A smirk played on his lips. I knew that look. He was up to something.

"Vasilisa wants to marry off her girls," he mused, almost too casually. "Someone needs to rule the Bratva when she’s gone."

I shot him a warning look. "I might actually kill you tonight."

His grin widened. "At least wait until we get inside."

We pulled up to the mansion. Towering gates. A long, cobbled driveway leading to the kind of estate that whispered power. We stepped out, the night air thick with unspoken tension.

For a long moment, we simply stared at the building.

"We might die tonight," Silvano said, his voice lighter than it should be.

I let out a slow breath. "I hope so."

And with that, we stepped forward. The massive oak doors groaned open, revealing a world where we belonged.

The room shifted the moment we entered. The air grew heavier. Eyes turned, assessing.

We weren’t on the guest list.

The atmosphere changed and all eyes moved to us, they didn't conceal their whispers or stares. I didn't have the best reputation around this side.

Massive chandeliers, dripping with crystal, cast golden light across the room. The long dining tables covered in rich red velvet, adorned with golden plates, the finest Russian cuisine, and endless bottles of vodka, whiskey, and champagne. A string quartet plays in the corner, their music weaving seamlessly with the murmurs of conversation.

The air is thick with cigarette smoke and expensive perfume, mingling with the faint scent of cedarwood from the roaring fireplaces. Conversations are spoken in hushed tiones, deals being made over glasses of aged brandy. Laughter rings out occasionally-some of it genuine, some of it calculated.

At the heart of their dynasty is Vasilisa Petrovna, an aging woman known only as Babushka Vasilisa. She is no ordinary matriarch—she is the architect of the Bratvaz, feared even more than the men who claim power in her name.

Her staff thumped lightly on the wooden floor as she walked towards us, don't let her composure deceive you, even I knew I had a limit when it came to the Bratvaz.

"Babushka" I called heartily. "You have some guts stepping your feet in here, Ferrari" she replied, stomping the staff at once and I chuckled.

"I noticed I wasn't invited"

"So, you decided to make an entrance?" She fired again, shooting me a narrowed look and I stepped forward, grabbing her hand and laying a kiss on it. "Where are my manners? You haven't aged a day, Vasilisa" I said and a small made way to her lips despite herself and she pulled her hand out of mine.

"Well, I can't send you away now, can I?" She muttered before letting out a sigh. The party went back to normal as they noticed the ease of tension between us.

I signalled Silvano and he nodded and we both went our separate ways, I went with Vasilisa, we walked through the guest, the tension very much there as they threw glances our way. "I'm sure you are much acquainted with the others here"

I held on a look with the head the Cosa Nostra, Salvatore Ricci and beside him was his right hand man, Lorenzo Ricci. "You can say that" I replied, tearing my attention from them.

"Have I introduced you to my daughters?" she asked, coming to a sudden halt. Before I could respond, they appeared—approaching us with purposeful strides, their presence carrying an air of quiet authority.

There was something almost predatory about the way they moved, like hunters who had already assessed their prey.

The first one stepped forward, her dark hair cascading down to match the sleek elegance of her black dress. "This is my eldest, Yelena Petrovna."

She held my gaze as she approached, sharp eyes studying me with quiet calculation. I recognized the look—she was sizing me up, peeling back the layers with nothing but a glance.

Impressive.

Then, just as swiftly, her expression shifted. A faint smile tugged at her lips, controlled yet deliberate. She extended a hand, her grip firm and unwavering.

"Mr. Ferrari," she said smoothly. "Glad you could join us. Though, you weren’t expected."

I took her hand, matching her strength with my own. "I couldn't miss a night like this."

Another figure appeared behind Yelena, pulling her away abruptly. This one was blonde, her red dress gleaming under the chandeliers.

"Good evening, Mr. Ferrari," she purred, stepping in with practiced grace.

"I'm Svetlana. I must say, your presence tonight is... captivating." Her fingers ghosted over my shoulder, a deliberate move meant to unsettle or intrigue.

I nodded, my expression unreadable. "Nice to meet you, Miss Petrovna."

"Where's Natsya?" Their mother's voice cut in, sharp and expectant.

Svetlana barely acknowledged the question, murmuring something in Russian before turning her attention back to me. She smiled brightly, closing the space between us, her voice slipping into an endless stream of conversation-flattery, calculated interest, a hint of something coy beneath it all.

I wasn't listening.

My gaze drifted across the room, scanning the guests, cataloging potential threats. Silvano stood near the entrance, leaning casually against a column, sipping his drink with the kind of ease that only came with confidence. He was watching me outright, a knowing smirk on his lips.

Moments later.

A glance at my watch told me I had an hour left. Another sip of scotch, another swirl of amber liquid against crystal. Across the room, Yelena hadn't taken her eyes off us. The eldest Petrovna sister-watchful, assessing, making sure her younger sister didn't make a fool of herself.

Too late for that.

I turned back to Svetlana just as she leaned in again, her perfume cloying, her touch light but deliberate. She was talking-I caught the cadence of her words, the way her voice dipped and rose-but the meaning was lost on me. My mind was elsewhere, my patience thinning.

I swirled the scotch in my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light. Let's get this over with.

"Enough, Svetlana" Vasilisa finally came into the room and her daughter leaned away from me, pouting her lips. She signalled her to leave and she glanced at me once again, shooting me a smile before leaving as her mother ordered.

Babushka took her seat opposite me and let out a sigh while I took another gulp from my glass. "You have a hand in all the recent bombing and chaos outside, don't you?" She asked, lighting up a cigar.

"You don't expect anything less, do you?"

She chuckled as she took a drag out of the cigar before looking up at me. "Чего ты хочешь, Ferrari?" She went straight to the point.

"The end of the Volkov"

She leaned into her seat, tearing her gaze from mine. "Your conflict with the Volkov is not my concern"

"But it is" I disagreed and her eyes shot back to me, "Is that a threat?" She snapped and I chuckled, my tone condescending.

"If I war, we all do. And I know about your close tie with the Volkov" I answered and watched as her jaw ticked. "You don't crash into my party and you don't threaten my clan-"

"This is not a threat, Vasilisa. This is an alliance. The Volkov will come for everyone"

"You caused it"

"I accept that" I shrugged, swinging back another glass. "The Bratvaz has no ties with the Volkov" she clarified.

"He was your right hand"

"He's an outcast. A traitor. He doesn't bear our name," she spat, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. I watched with a slow smirk, savoring the way her anger simmered just beneath the surface. Exactly what I wanted. I wanted her rage to spill over, to blind her with fury.

"And yet, he still dares to walk in my territory," I mused, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. "And I always repay a bad deed in kind."

Her eyes narrowed. "And how do you intend to do that?"

"You mean, how do we intend to do that?" I corrected smoothly, leaning forward until the candlelight cast shadows over my face. "There will be a coup. The Prime Minister will fall. And the Volkov? They will cease to exist."

She studied me, amusement flickering in her gaze. "You sound so assured."

I chuckled. "Because I am. I designed this from the ground up. I am the architect of their demise."

She tapped her cigar against the crystal ashtray, considering. "And when does this happen?"

I lifted my glass to my lips, taking a slow sip before replying. "At the Venetian Accord."

A heavy silence settled between us. The distant murmur of guests, the clinking of silverware, the faint notes of a violin drifting through the grand hall—background noise to the high-stakes game we were playing.

She finally set her cigar down, eyes locked onto mine. "And why do you need us?"

I exhaled, leaning back as a knowing smile played on my lips. "Because the only thing more dangerous than an enemy..." I paused, letting the weight of my words sink in. "Is family. And you have more power than you realize."

She studied me, her gaze unreadable, before releasing a slow stream of smoke.

"And what’s in it for the Bratvaz?"

I placed my glass down with deliberate ease, my smile widening. "Come now, Vasilisa. You already know what I’m capable of. I don’t just play the game—I own the board."

She held my gaze, the tension crackling like a live wire between us. And then, ever so slightly, she smirked.

Game on.

➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫

I stepped out of the room, a feeling of satisfaction settling in from the outcome of the evening. But before I could fully retreat into the shadows, a voice cut through the silence, sharp and accusatory.

"What are you really doing here?"

I halted, my gaze snapping to Yelena as she appeared, blocking my path with a presence so commanding, it was almost tangible. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes cold, unwavering. "Miss Petrovna," I acknowledged, a hint of amusement creeping into my voice.

Her lips twisted into a sneer. "I know you, vipers. Always scheming, whispering in her ear, plotting to get into my mother's head. You're just trying to take what's rightfully mine."

My lips curled into a smirk. She was a handful, that was certain.

Her voice lowered, cutting through the tension. "She's vulnerable now. You know that, don't you? You came out of nowhere-what do you really want, Ferrari?" The venom in her tone was palpable.

I took a slow, deliberate step forward, feeling the weight of her gaze shift under mine. Despite the defiance in her stance, her resolve faltered, though she didn't back down. "I should pledge my allegiance then," I murmured, my voice smooth.

Her lips tightened into a snarl. "I don't need your help."

I tilted my head, stepping closer, not giving an inch. "Of course not. You seem more than capable, Yelena." I let the words hang in the air, the challenge simmering beneath them. "But if someone threatens your position... you could always come to me. I'd handle it."

Her gaze faltered for just a moment, a brief crack in the armor she'd built. She didn't expect that.

"The rumors are true," she murmured under her breath. "You know how to manipulate things... get what you want.Ты меня бесишь," she hissed, her fury flickering in her eyes.

I didn't flinch. Instead, I closed the distance between us, stepping right into her personal space, backing her toward the cold, unforgiving wall. The air around us seemed to crackle with tension. Her breath hitched, short gasps escaping her lips as she pressed into the wall, her walls crumbling ever so slightly.

I sighed, leaning in closer, my hand placed against the wall beside her, trapping her. "Don't feel threatened by me," I murmured softly, my lips near her ear. "I'm here for your best interest."

She swallowed hard, her eyes wide as she struggled to maintain control. But in that instant, she was bare before me-unguarded, vulnerable. The sharpness in her expression wavered, replaced by something much more uncertain.

"You wouldn't want to cross me," she whispered, though her voice trembled just slightly.

I straightened, a smile tugging at my lips as I leaned away from her, leaving her to catch her breath. Her shoulders fell, the fight draining from her, and her eyes lingered on me for a moment too long. "I wouldn't," I replied, my voice low, with a hint of finality.

She exhaled sharply, and in that moment, I knew that she wasn't as untouchable as she thought.

Moments later.

"Travis Ferrari"

I halted in my tracks, the familiar voice slicing through the night like a blade. Slowly, I turned back around, unsurprised by who I saw.

Lorenzo Ricci.

I let out a slow breath. Nothing surprises me anymore tonight.

"I'm surprised seeing you out here."

"Then you shouldn't engage" I warned.

His tone was casual, but I caught the sharp edge beneath it. "Isn't this the anniversary evening? Shouldn't you be paying respect to your father?"

A slow burn crawled up my spine, but I kept my face unreadable. My jaw locked, my fingers curling into fists at my sides.

"How long do the Ferraris' plan to keep my son away from me?"

The restraint I had left snapped.

I strode toward him, closing the space between us in a heartbeat. He took a step back. I didn't stop.

"If you ever... step your feet in that house..." My voice was quiet, cold. I advanced, forcing him back again. "If you ever approach her or Nico, I'll kill you myself."

Lorenzo tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement. "Are you threatening me?"

I smiled this time, slow and deliberate, stepping even closer. "Oh, this is far from it. It's a promise, 'cause either way, you're gonna die by my hand."

Lorenzo's smirk wavered, the amusement draining from his face.

"I don't fear you, Ferrari."

My smile deepened, dark and unyielding. "I don't hope you do. It makes killing you even more satisfying... 'cause you least expect it."

His face went grim immediately.

Good. Now, he was finally listening.

➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫➫

I remained in the car just staring at the building. My father's house, but I couldn't go in. The conversation with Lorenzo had thrown me aback, it was indeed his death anniversary.

This was what this night was supposed to be about, not everything I've preoccupied myself with lately, but this. And I failed to comprehend it.

I couldn't bring myself to. I wasn't worthy.

But I was here now and there was no turning back, I was late but I would be even more a coward if I never showed up.

I got out of the car, stepping into the crisp night air, I adjusted my blazer, brushing off invisible creases as I strode toward the building. The cold bit at my skin, but I barely noticed. My focus was on the looming double doors ahead, their weighty presence only adding to the heaviness in my chest.

The doors swung open, and a wave of warmth and chatter rushed over me—familiar voices, laughter, the hum of a family I hadn’t seen in too long. Before I could take another step, a voice called out.

"Travis?"

I turned, my gaze landing on Aunt Sara. She stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide with shock before she stepped forward, her expression wavering between disbelief and relief.

"Good evening," I greeted, my voice measured, careful.

She stopped in front of me, blinking rapidly, her throat working around words she couldn’t seem to form. "Is this really you?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. Tears welled in her eyes, glistening under the dim hallway light.

"I'm sorry..." I murmured. "I'm late."

"You missed the whole thing."

I glanced down, jaw tightening. "I lost track of time," I admitted, the excuse tasting hollow on my tongue.

She exhaled, pressing a hand to her face as she wiped away a tear. "Well, the rest of the family is in there. No one was expecting you." A pause. Then, softer, "At least you're here."

I gave a small nod, swallowing the lump in my throat before stepping past her into the living room.

The moment I entered, the room fell silent. All eyes turned to me. Familiar faces, familiar expressions—some unreadable, others filled with something dangerously close to resentment.

And then—

"Brother."

Trent’s voice rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade. It echoed across the room, reaching me before he did.

But I didn't turn toward him. Instead, I redirected my attention to the rest of the family, giving them the respect they deserved, but I couldn't ignore the harsh, judgmental look Raquel shot my way.

It stung, but it wasn't the reason I came here. There were far more pressing matters at hand, and I was reminded of that as my phone buzzed with another urgent message.

In moments, I found myself by the window, trying to attend to these pressing matters.

"We had no idea you'd flee back to Italy," Trent's voice pierced the stillness behind me. I let out a long breath, refusing to meet his gaze, my focus locked on the view outside the window.

"My whereabout concerns no one" I stated, my voice cold. "Everyone was worried, Mother especially, she thought something must have-"

"What's this?" I snapped, turning back to him immediately. "Since when do we...talk?"

A smile enveloped his lips and he dipped his hands into his pocket. "Tonight is a fragile night, his memories always haunts us on this day every year. So, it's best we look out for each other, putting everything in the past and probably start having conversations, it will make Mother feel better about all this"

I let out a low breath, not even ready for his bullshit this evening and headed towards the door, "The Volkov dropped by at Alpha 3 recently"

I halted immediately and spun around to him once again, "they had a message for you, a threat really"

"Do not concern yourself with them"

"I know I'm the one to pick sides but come on, brother, you can do better than that. What's going?" He asked, walking back to me.

"Something I've already handled" I gritted in reply. "Focus on the company, you've got your hand full"

"Is this your way of keeping me busy? Not wanting me to meddle in your affairs with the-"

I immediately grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, pulling him closer. "If you so much as involve yourself, if you so much as let me clean your mess again, I'll have no choice but to end you"

"Then this day will be the death anniversary of the Ferraris'" he said, a smile tugging his lips and I let him go of him at once, turning away. This was the least shit I wanted this evening.

When I left him there, I found myself standing outside my father's study, it became mine when he died but it's been a while since I've had the courage to step in.

I stood at the outside, staring into it. "I'm sure his ghost won't haunt you" Raquel's voice cut through the silence and I turned to her, in her arms was a passed out Nico.

"You both should get some rest" I suggested as she stopped beside me. "Trust me, you need it more than we do" she replied and I let out a sigh, looking back into the office.

"We thought you were actually gonna miss this one" she spoke up after a moment of silence and I didn't look at her again. "Are you really that mad at him?"

"No"

My gaze then moved to hers, "he should be disappointed. He wouldn't want me here"

"Why won't he? You're his son, we are his children-"

"It's far from that, Raquel" I cut her off and she went silent. Another second past before she moved to me, her hands reaching for my face and she moved my hair away.

"Go home, Travis. Go rest, you can't fix everything" she whispered and I just stared. I knew that, but trying to fix it always fueled me, it made things less shitty. "Where's Mother?"

She let out a breath before answering, "She's isolated herself in her room ever since we got back from church. I feel like...this day is always a torture or her"

"No" I disagreed, "I'm that torture"

"Don't say that" she hushed and I glanced down at Nico, who was fast asleep. "How's he?" I asked, combing my hands through his hair. "He's fine and I'm sure he'll want his uncle to be fine too"

"I'm heightening the security at the house" I informed and her brows knitted. "Why?"

"You both shouldn't go out alone, you should have a-"

"Travis! " she cut me off at once and I paused. "It's for your own good. You can't argue" I said, my tone final and she rolled her eyes. "I hate when you switch to this big brother protective act"

After minutes of lurking around the house and not doing anything helpful, I found myself at her door, I couldn't stay away for ever, I had to let her know I came.

I turned on the knob and pushed it open before stepping in, my gaze settled on her—my Mother.

She was sited at the edge of her bed, backing me, her gaze on the open window. Silence stretched between us as I stayed rooted at that spot.

"Mother" I called because the silence was deafening. "You shouldn't have come, what more respect do you have to pay?" She said, her voice cold.

"I know" I answered, casting my head down, silence stretched between us again. "He wouldn't believe it. He's probably doubting..."

I knew where she was heading with this. "He would never believe you'd turn out like this"

"Like what?" Her gaze shot to me immediately. "This person! Who even are you, Travis?"

The words got caught in my throat once I took her features in, her eyes puffy red, tears streaming down. "He waited for you, he wanted you here"

"He's dead" I countered and she stopped, her breath heavy and slowly she got up the bed and turned to me fully. "He's really dead to you?"

"He's been dead for years now" I answered, my voice detached and slowly she broke down, tears running down like streams and her cries muffled. I looked away from her, holding myself back.

"How could you say that? How can you say that so easily?" She crooked, my gaze moving back to hers. "He loved you, he loved you so much. You were his favourite, he'll pick you over everyone and all he wanted, all he ever did was for your own good"

"None of it have helped out, it never has" I disagreed and she shook her head. "I know your hurt, your going through something, Travis... " she walked forward to me.

"... But closing us off will never help"

"You all are my responsibility, I'll do my very best to fulfill it and if that isn't enough to make him proud, then there's nothing more I can do"