Page 90 of Silver Sinner

"It's not me you should be worried about."

"You're in pain, I can see that. I know she was important to you but in the grand scheme of things, she's just one woman in a—aghh!" Adrian topples backward into the glass as my fist collides with his face. Blood bursts under my knuckles from his nose and he throws up one arm to catch himself.

"One woman?" I growl. "Do you really think it's wise to call her that?"

"Pierce!"

"No! I am—" Fury ignites in my chest and I ball my hands together to resist the urge to lash out once more. That single punch was like a drop escaping the dam of rage inside me, and the temptation to give in is overwhelming. Not on my brother, though. I refuse. "I'm insulted that you would think Layla is just one woman. When I tell you she is everything to me, I mean it. I refuse, refuse to leave her to suffer and beyond that, I won't let those Russian fucks get away with treating me like this. Moses nearly died. I nearly died and I dread to think what they would have done to you if I had…"

I choke on my last word, unable to even consider my brother in the hands of those monsters. Regret collides with the anger and I can barely breathe. Everything else is taking up too much space.

"Shit," Adrian mumbles through the hand trying to stem the blood flow. "I get it. I just don't want you to lose yourself in this, Pierce."

I turn away and cast my gaze back out over the silent city. Without Layla, there's nothing left of me worth holding on to.

The weeks turn into a month and still, Layla and Trik remain ghosts in the city. I can barely sleep or eat, and only give in when exhaustion forces me to rest, or the hunger makes me weak. Every inch of the city has been combed from top to bottom, to the point that I fear Layla was taken out of state long ago and I've been searching an empty pit.

Until one day, Moses comes to me with his eyes bright with an idea. "I've got it," he says excitedly as he darts past me in the kitchen, heading for the coffee machine. "I didn't think about it before, but it makes perfect sense!"

"What does?"

He turns to me with the coffee pot in hand. "Stop looking for Layla."

"Moses—"

"No, listen. Stop looking. Make a show of not looking. Trik is a fucking psychopath and he's probably been enjoying watching you tear the city apart for her. So you have to stop looking. You have to act like you've moved on, and he'll get bored like that." He snaps his fingers after pouring his coffee.

"He'll kill her if she has no more use," I remind him darkly.

"She will still have use, that's the point. Once Trik is done toying with you, what does her value become?" He walks toward me with a smile. "Maddie. Pavel is one traditional asshole and he will need Layla and Trik to marry in order to get the legitimate heir he desires so badly. And to do that, he'll also need them to get married in a good church and with the approval of all his other extended family, because that asshole is so performative that we know he'll want to shove this heir in the face of everyone who doubts the strength of his bloodline."

A bloodline I'd happily wipe out. Moses has a point though, and as he talks, the plan in his mind becomes clear.

"All we need to do is keep an eye on the airports and ships, track everyone who enters the country while you pretend to be docile and defeated. That will make Trik look good and make it even more likely that the family will accept Maddie as the next in line. Then, all we need to do is find someone important to Pavel the second they enter the country and track them."

"This is risky. For all we know, they got married already and Layla's been living in Russia this whole time." I sag forward, my hands bracing on the counter. We're out of ideas and for all I know, out of time. It wouldn't be hard to pretend to give up the search, but the whole plan hinges on Trik being greedy enough to keep the wedding at bay just to taunt me.

"It's a good plan," Moses says, his voice gentle as he rests next to me. "He might even use the wedding to bait you out. We won't know until we try."

"And if you're wrong?" I meet his gaze. "What then?"

Moses's face falls slightly. "What else can we do?"

He's right. There's nothing more to be done. Wherever Trik is keeping Layla, be it New York or an entirely different country, I can't find her like this. Playing into those Russian bastards might be the last chance I have.

So that's what we do. I pull back my men and throw myself into working with the Italians and the cartel. I even make sure to be seen with a woman on my arm—my therapist, but Adrian's paying her enough that she simply doesn't care. Pretending everything is fine is a firm mask that stays in place during the day and crumbles at night.

But a week after we put the plan into motion, it begins to bear fruit. I'm halfway through trimming my beard in the bathroom when Moses charges in and thrusts an iPad into my face.

"Look!"

I blink, my eyes adjusting quickly to the change from mirror to pad. "What am I looking at?"

"That woman?" Moses taps the screen. "That's Anastasia, Pavel's aunt. She arrived last night under the name Tianna, and she's currently staying at the Aman New York. Look at her, she's fucking ninety, and there's only one reason a Barsukov that old would come to New York."

Our eyes meet, and the trimmer slips from my fingers.

"A wedding."