Until the End (Volkov Bratva #2)(58)

“Then you find a way to make him!” she screamed at him, her voice breaking. “How could you do this? Wasn’t one family enough? You have to destroy another one?”

He flinched at her words, but the storm was still raging inside of her, but he continued on. This was for her own good.

“The choice is theirs. No one forces them to take the money, nor are there any secrets about the way we do business. Don’t lay the blame at my feet.”

That had its desired effect.

She didn’t attack him like he was expecting, she just stared at him with those uncanny eyes of her. It took everything in him not to look away.

“He’s not Cameron,” he whispered. “I know an apology will never be enough, but I won’t stop saying it until you believe me. Even if that means I can’t have you.” The last part slipped out before he could stop it.

“Mish, I killed someone.” And he could see it eating at her though she tried to stay calm. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t even know who I am, but I can’t just sit back and watch this happen right in front of me.”

“You have no say in the matter. Just because we sleep together does not give you the right to question me.”

In that moment, he felt just like his father, but if he was going to do this, he had to do it the right way.

“Come.”

She didn’t argue with him. He didn’t even think there was any fight left in her. He only caught a glimpse of her face as she climbed back on the bed, allowing him to pull the covers over her.

It hurt. It physically pained him to say his next words. “This was a mistake, bringing you here, pursuing you from the beginning. Once I knew who you were, I should have let you go, spared you all this pain, but I wanted you still.” He cradled her face in his hands, memorizing her features, knowing this would be the last chance he was able.

“I have to let you go.”

He stepped away from her, running his fingers through his hair as he tore his gaze away from her, leaving her on the bed. “I’ll have Luka take you home in the morning. Don’t worry about the Albanians, I’ve taken care of that. I’ve taken care of everything. Just…be happy.”

She hadn’t said another word the entire time he was in the room, her back to him. The distance between them never felt so great.

He didn’t look back as he left, he couldn’t stand the idea of what she might have looked like laying there, crying silently at his callous words.

It was the right thing to do, ending things, leaving her to enjoy the life Cameron had left for her. Even if it meant he lost his heart in the process.





Naomi wiped a stray tear from her eye as she caught sight of one of the men she should have been avoiding at all costs.

But she had never played by the rules and after her brief meeting with Mishca the night before, she needed to quell that feeling of sadness that plagued her since his rejection.

The sadness, the…pitiful emotion was a weakness for her, standing in the way of the only thing left on her mind.

Revenge.

And there was only one way she could get what she wanted. No, she couldn’t keep the diamond—she valued her life too much—but she would be damned if she was the only one to lose everything.

Her plan was fool proof. While she had spent most of her time with Jetmir, she knew enough about the youngest Besnik to have him play into his hands.

Time to get started.

The upscale gambling parlor was owned by a pair of Albanian immigrants. It was once a restaurant, but when money grew tight for them, and they were unable to continue payments to the mob, they were forced to give up the property.

The guard didn’t bother asking for her name, judging her by her attire. He knocked twice on the giant door, a signal for the guard on the other side to open it.

Naomi zeroed in on Brahim, knowing that slumped, defeated frame anywhere.

Showtime.

“Martini, please,” she told the bartender, boldly taking the seat next to Brahim.

He looked up in surprise, blinking twice to make sure he was really seeing her. He began reaching into his coat, but she laid her hand over his.

“No need for guns, Brahim darling. I come in peace.” Naomi accepted her drink with a smile, crossing her legs as she withdrew the olive from the glass, tapping it on the rim before taking it into her mouth. “Unless you’re into that type of thing, of course.”

“What do you want?”

“To return what is rightfully yours,” she said with a smile, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Djegia Flaka.”

“I should call my brother,” Brahim stated already reaching for his phone.

Naomi tightened her grip only slightly, rubbing her fingers over the back of his hand. “Or you could handle this yourself. Jetmir told me how you long to make a name for yourself amongst your,” —she waved her hand to the men around them—“peers. Why not get the diamond yourself? No one could doubt you then.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I came to New York, not because I wanted to escape your brother, but because I was forced. Mishca forced me to steal it and bring it to him or he would kill me.”

“How do I know this to be true?”

“Brahim, would I ever lie to you?”

He actually seemed to consider this. He really was as gullible as they said.