Filthy Promises: Chapter 69

I don’t tell Rowan where I’m going.

Another lie of omission. I ought to know better, but old habits are hard to break.

“Business meeting,” I say, kissing her forehead as she reclines on the sofa with her laptop. “I won’t be long.”

Her eyes narrow. She knows me too well now. “Vince⁠—”

“Two hours, tops,” I promise. “Then we’ll finish our strategy for the shipping consolidation.”

She sighs but doesn’t press. Another thing I don’t deserve: her trust, somehow still intact despite how many times I’ve tested it.

“Be careful,” she warns.

If she only knew.

The warehouse at the docks hasn’t been used for Bratva business in years. It’s too exposed, too many cameras nearby. But for today’s meeting, those are advantages, not liabilities. My father won’t risk open violence where law enforcement might be watching.

At least, that’s the theory.

Arkady pulls the car to a stop half a block away. “You sure about this, boss?”

“No,” I answer honestly. “But it needs to be done.”

“I don’t like it,” he says, checking his weapon. “Let me come in with you.”

I shake my head. “This is between him and me.”

“At least wear this.” He hands me a small device. “Panic button. Press it twice, my team storms the place.”

I slip it into my pocket, though I have no intentions of using it. “Two hours. If you don’t hear from me by then⁠—”

“I’ll come in shooting,” he finishes grimly.

“Not you.” I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. “You go straight to Rowan. Get her somewhere safe. That’s an order.”

He nods once. “Good luck, Vin.”

I don’t believe in luck. Never have. But as I approach the weathered metal door of the warehouse, I find myself wishing I did.

My father is already inside, standing in a shaft of dusty sunlight that filters through the high windows. He looks older than when I saw him last week—the silver in his hair more pronounced, the lines around his mouth carved deeper.

Or maybe I’m just seeing him clearly for the first time.

“Vincent.” He doesn’t move from his spot. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”

“I said I would.” I stop ten feet away, maintaining distance. Caution. “You said you wanted to talk. So talk.”

“Always so direct.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “No time for pleasantries, even with your own father.”

“Pleasantries are for friends,” I reply. “Are we friends, Otets?”

“We’re family.” He spreads his hands. “Blood. That is—or at least, it should be—a bond that transcends friendship or business. Or temporary distractions.”

I feel my jaw tighten. “If that’s how you see my wife, we have nothing to discuss.”

“Oh, I think we do.” He begins to pace, his footsteps echoing in the empty space. “Your American bride has been busy, hasn’t she? Digging through records. Connecting dots. Playing detective.”

My skin prickles with goosebumps. He knows about Rowan’s research. Which means he’s watching her. Watching us.

“Stay away from my wife,” I say, my voice deadly quiet.

“Or what?” He laughs. “You’ll kill me? Your own father?”

The thought has crossed my mind over the last week. More than once.

“I’ve given you every opportunity to be part of our future,” I say instead. “You could help build something that will last beyond our lifetime. And at every turn, you’ve chosen sabotage.”

“I’ve chosen tradition!” he thunders suddenly, his composure cracking. “I’ve chosen the path that made us strong, that kept us alive when others fell! And what have you chosen, Vincent? Legitimacy?” He spits the word like poison. “Corporate boardrooms and tax returns and bowing to American laws?”

“I’ve chosen survival,” I counter. “I looked at the road you wanted to walk down and I saw blood on the ground, Father. So instead, I picked a future where my child doesn’t have to carry a gun to school or wonder which of their friends might betray them for the right price.”

“Weak,” he hisses. “She’s made you weak.”

“She’s made me see clearly,” I correct him. “For the first time in my life.”

My father’s face contorts with disgust. “Listen to yourself. You sound like a lovesick teenager, not the heir to the Akopov empire.”

“Maybe that’s because I don’t want your empire,” I say quietly. “Not the way it is.”

“Then you are not my son.”

I knew that was coming, but it still cuts deeper than I expected.

“If that’s your choice,” I say after a pained moment, “so be it.”

He strides closer, his eyes narrowed into furious slits. “You would throw away everything—your heritage, your birthright, your family—for this woman? This outsider?”

I meet his gaze unflinchingly. “In a fucking heartbeat.”

“So be it. Let’s see what it costs you then.”

I don’t need to ask if it’s a threat. Nor do I need to consider how I could reply.

I just pull out my gun and press it to my father’s forehead.

It would be so easy. One clean shot. The ultimate solution to the Andrei problem, just like he taught me.

Eliminate threats ruthlessly. Leave no loose ends.

But Rowan’s voice echoes in my mind. There’s always another way, Vince. A better way.

My father sees my hesitation and laughs, even as the barrel of my weapon is still kissing the wrinkled skin between his eyes. “As I thought. Weak. She’s neutered you, my son.”

“Because I won’t murder my own father?” I shake my head in disgust. “That’s not weakness. It’s humanity.”

He spits on the ground between us. “In our world, humanity gets you killed. Worse—it gets those you love killed.”

Something in his tone makes every nerve in my body go on high alert. “What have you done?”

He smiles again, and this time, there’s a sickening kind of triumph in it. “I wonder… while you’re here, playing at revolution with me, who’s watching your precious Rowan?”

My blood freezes. “Arkady⁠—”

“—is sitting in a car half a block away,” he finishes for me. “Exactly where you told him to be. Far from your house. Far from your wife.”

I reach for my phone, but he grabs my wrist.

“I’d focus on our conversation if I were you, Vincent.” His grip is strong despite his age. “It would be a shame to miss our last moments together.”

Rage surges through me, hot and familiar. I wrench my arm free and grab him by the throat, slamming him against a nearby support column.

“If you’ve touched her—if you’ve ordered anyone to go near her—I won’t just kill you,” I snarl, tightening my grip. “I’ll make you beg for death first.”

He doesn’t struggle or fight back. Just stares at me with those cold eyes so like my own.

“There he is,” he wheezes through my chokehold. “There’s my son. The killer. The pakhan. The man who would do anything for what’s his.”

His words are ice water down my spine. I release him abruptly, stepping back as if burnt.

He’s right.

In my rage, in my fear for Rowan, I’ve become exactly what he wanted—the cold-blooded enforcer he raised me to be.

“This was your plan all along,” I say slowly. “Lure me here. Make me choose. Force me to prove I’m still the monster you created.”

He straightens, adjusting his collar. “And you passed the test. Despite everything, you’re still an Akopov at heart.”

“You’re wrong.” I back away. “I’m something else entirely now.”

I hit Arkady’s number as I stride toward the door. When he answers, I don’t waste time with explanations.

“Get to Rowan. Now. Drop everything and get to her.”

“What’s happening?” His voice is instantly on high alert.

“I don’t know,” I say, breaking into a run as I exit the warehouse. “But my father⁠—”

“I understand,” he interrupts. “I’m on my way.”

I hang up and dial Rowan’s number next, my heart pounding as I wait for her to answer.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Nothing.

I try again. Same result.

Fear claws at my throat, making it hard to breathe. I sprint the rest of the way to where Dimitri is waiting with a second car, throwing myself into the passenger seat.

“Home,” I bark. “Now. And call every man we have near the estate. I want them all there. Two minutes ago.”

As Dimitri peels away from the curb, tires squealing, I try Rowan’s number one more time.

Still no answer.

I never should have left her alone. If anything happens to her—to our child—because of my arrogance, my stubborn need to handle my father on my own terms…

I close my eyes, gripping the dashboard as Dimitri takes a corner too fast.

I’ve made my choice. Chosen Rowan over my father. Chosen her influence, her vision of our future, over the legacy he built. Chosen the life we’re creating together over the life I was born into.

And now, I might lose everything because of it.

The irony would be perfect if it weren’t so devastating.

Hold on, Rowan, I think desperately as the car races through the city. I’m coming. Just hold on.