The place was about an hour outside the city, near the pier.
The warehouse stood alone at the edge of the water, a hulking relic from another time. It had once been a factory in the late eighteenth century, back when the docks were louder and the river carried more trade than silence. The Murphys had purchased it decades ago and left it mostly untouched, specifically for this purpose.
The sharp smell of saltwater, fish and stagnant canal air hung heavy in the cold afternoon as I followed Seamus and his men toward the entrance. Our footsteps echoing against the cracked concrete outside.
Behind us, Alex's men remained in position. He had ordered them to stay on standby, and they did. They were stationed along the row of black cars and scattered along the perimeter of the property like silent shadows. Simply waiting, watching.
The large metal doors groaned as they were pulled open.
Inside, the warehouse was nearly pitch dark. Only a single light burned in the center of the vast, hollow space. And beneath it, sat a lone figure in a chair.
A sack had been pulled over his head. His hands were bound tightly behind his back. Even from a distance, I could recognize the cut of the black Italian suit he wore. Though his cane was gone.
But they didn't need to remove the sack for me to know who it was.
My grandfather.
I stopped a few steps inside the warehouse.
My body had gone rigid without me realizing it.
No one had spoken. The only sounds were the distant slap of water against the pier and the slow creak of the building shifting in the wind.
Seamus stepped forward first.
"Well," he said lightly, clasping his hands behind his back as he studied the figure beneath the light. "Let's not keep the family waiting."
One of his men moved in.
I didn't move. I barely breathed as the man reached forward and yanked the sack off of my grandfather's head.
His head sagging forward for a moment before lifting slightly under the harsh light.
His silver hair was disheveled. Blood streaking down on one side of his temple, that had dried along the collar of his shirt. His face, once that had always been composed, controlled, was bruised and swollen. A strip of tape had been pressed roughly against his mouth.
His eyes were closed.
Alex shifted beside me, and I felt his gaze immediately, heavy and searching. As if he was trying to read every flicker of emotion on my face. Concern lingered there, quiet and careful.
He was worried how I'd react.
Seamus, however, looked delighted at the prospect of violence.
"Ah," he sighed with satisfaction. "What did I say? Aren't I a man of my word?"
He circled slowly around the chair like a man admiring a prize. "Lorenzo Ricci himself," he continued. "The man who once made half of New York tremble with a single phone call."
He stopped beside the chair, resting a hand on its back.
"But that's not all the hospitality we're offering tonight," Seamus added casually, glancing at me.
His smile widened. "We've also got my dear old friend Arturo in our custody."
My stomach tightened.
Seamus gestured lazily toward the far wall. "My new daughter-in-law and son are handling that matter," he said. "Just next door."
At the mention of Arturo's name, my grandfather stirred.
Slowly, painfully, his eyes opened.
Sharp as ice. Still burning with the same ruthless intelligence I remembered. Even now, stripped of his power, tied to a chair, his face bloodied and swollen, there was nothing weak about him.
Lorenzo Ricci had never been a man who broke easily.
And he looked straight right at me.
"I would like to be alone," I said, my voice steady as I kept my eyes fixed on the man who had raised me. "Let me settle this between us family."
Seamus glanced at Alex, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Well," he drawled, "you know how this works, Mrs.Barinov. I can only allow that to happen if your husband agrees."
"I don't," Alex said immediately, shaking his head. "It's too dangerous."
I finally looked at him. "Husband."
"No," he repeated, firmer this time. "You don't stay alone with him. Not like this."
"He's tied to a chair," I said quietly. "Beaten. Outnumbered."
"That's not what I'm worried about."
His gaze flicked toward my grandfather, then back to me.
"He's still Lorenzo Ricci."
"And I'm still the granddaughter he betrayed," I replied.
The words settling heavily between us.
Alex studied my face for a long moment, searching, measuring whether this was anger, grief or something worse.
"I need to do this alone," I said softly. "Please."
Silence stretched across the warehouse.
Then Alex exhaled slowly through his nose, the tension in his shoulders tightening before finally it actually eased.
He turned to Seamus. "We'll be right outside," he said.
Seamus lifted his brow, clearly entertained by the whole exchange, but then gestured to his men anyway. "Come along, boys."
Boots scraped against the concrete as they began filing toward the large doors. Alex lingered for a moment longer, clearly reluctant.
He placed a kiss on my temple, about to turn away when I spoke.
"Give me your gun."
He stopped, his eyes drifting to my outstretched hand.
The room went still again, as his eyes narrowed slightly.
"You trust yourself?" he said quietly.
"I do."
Another long moment passed.
Then, without another word, Alex reached beneath his coat and drew the pistol from his holster. He stepped closer and placed the familiar, cold metal into my waiting hand. His fingers lingering there for a second.
"Be careful, Princess," he murmured.
Then he turned and walked out, the heavy warehouse doors slamming shut behind me.
Leaving me alone with my grandfather.
I walked toward him slowly.
The sound of my boots echoing across the empty warehouse until I stopped just a few feet away. I reached forward and ripped the tape from his mouth. The sound tearing through the silence.
He inhaled sharply.
I tossed the filthy strip onto the concrete floor and stepped back, raising the gun until it was aimed squarely at his chest.
For a moment, he simply looked at me.
Even bloodied and tied to a chair, Lorenzo Ricci still carried himself like a king.
"You speak of betrayal," he said in Italian, his voice rough but steady, "as if I wasn't the one cleaning up your mistakes."
My grip tightened on the gun.
"Is that what you call it?" I answered in Italian. "The murder of my parents? My child? A mistake?"
His gaze hardened.
"Has your greed truly blinded you that much?"
He let out a quiet, humorless breath. "You were weak," he said simply. "You chose love over blood. That was always your greatest flaw."
I felt the words strike somewhere deep inside me, despite all this time. But still, I refused to let it show. I didn't want him to have the satisfaction.
"I chose to walk away," I corrected, my voice sounded more calmer than I felt.
"I could have ended you years ago." I continued. "When I discovered what you had done? When I finally understood who you really were? All while I was still living under your roof."
His eyes narrowed.
My finger shifted slightly against the trigger.
"I could have killed you, but I didn't." I swallowed. "Despite all the lives you took, everything you destroyed, I still chose to leave. I ran away instead of finishing the job."
My voice grew colder. "I loved you enough to leave this vengeance. I thought, if I left the world you've built behind, the blood would stop following me eventually."
A bitter laugh escaped me. "I was wrong."
My grandfather watched me warily, because he understood.
"You ruined my life," I said softly, as images flashed through my mind. From my parents' memories, the child I had lost, the future that Alex and I could've had. All those years spent running, my memory loss, rebuilding something that was never meant to survive.
"And now," I finished quietly, "you give me no choice but to walk down this path."
For the first time since I had walked into this warehouse, Lorenzo Ricci's expression shifted. Not for fear, but something close to regret.
"Blood always returns to blood," he murmured.
I lifted the gun slightly higher.
"Not after tonight," I bit out, my finger tightened.
The gunshot thundering through the warehouse.
His body jerked once against the ropes, then once more when I fired another shot at him, before it feel beneath the harsh overhead light.
Silence rushed back into the space, as I stood there for a long moment, staring at the man who had once ruled my entire world.
Only then, did I slowly lowered the gun.