around. “Who?” I asked darkly.
“Annabella Benéitez.”
I turned slowly to take in Feodor’s expression. It resembled how I felt. “Eleazar’s granddaughter.”
Feodor nodded. “She was found outside her school. How she died hasn’t been confirmed, but her body was found without teeth.”
I placed the book back onto the pile, precise and slow. “Eleazar?”
“Nothing yet.”
I ground my molars. Deep inside me, stirring like a cobra to a flute, visceral rage began to grow.
“I see,” I said quietly.
My Sovietnik shifted on his feet, his usually bright expression dampened. “What are we going to do, Boss?”
My eyes caught sight of a newspaper on the kitchen counter. Eithne McDermott’s picture stained the front page.
“What we have done every time we have been under attack,” I replied. “Go to war.”
Before the day was up, Eleazar Benéitez, drug lord of the Benéitez Cartel, had made his move.
If you hadn’t been watching for it, you might not have noticed. But as the hours after his granddaughter’s death wore on, it became clear.
Benéitez protected the women. Any female related or associated with the Cartel was taken under his protection, moved to high-security homes, or found themselves followed by bodyguards at all times.
Eleazar believed we were under attack—why else would he take such measures?
“They’re speeding up,” Dmitri observed as we were discussing the death in my study. My men and the women spread around the room, and even Babushka had shown her face. The only person missing was Elena. “Something has frightened them.”
“Or maybe they feel more confident,” Roman argued, sitting on the floor and leaning against a bookshelf. “They have successfully killed four women without leaving any evidence. I’d be feeling pretty fucking confident, too.”
“Eleazar’s reaction is interesting.” This came from Artyom. He sat in a chair, Roksana on his lap, her white hair framing his shoulders.
Everyone looked to Danika. Curled up on a chair, balancing on her ankles, Danika wore a calculating expression. “These are precautionary actions he is taking, but I think it would be bold to assume he knows nothing. How quickly he acted…That is the timeline of a man who knows something more than the rest of us.”
I agreed with Danika. Benéitez was no fool—you didn’t rule a Cartel for over six decades being an idiot.
Feodor spoke up, leaning against the back of Danika’s chair. “Benéitez is known for his high security. There is a good chance one of his men or cameras caught something.”
“Or maybe even a child at the school,” Olezka said, sounding sad about the fact.
I nodded, processing the information and coming to a conclusion.
“Keep an eye on the Lombardis, McDermotts and Lefebvres. There is no doubt they are watching Benéitez too, and I’m curious to see how they respond.”
With that final statement, my family began to disperse. Danika stretched out her legs. “Do you want me to tell Elena?”
“It is none of her business,” Dmitri said sharply. He was in a particularly sour mood after Tatiana had expressed that she liked Elena to her husband; Dmitri saw that as a personal attack. “She is here to help my wife, not advise us on mafia issues.”
Roman nodded in agreement. Even Roksana looked like she agreed—though I’m sure her reasons differed from the men.
I ignored them and said to Danika, “I will tell Elena.”
“Have you gotten anything out of her yet?” Roman asked, looking up at Danika from the floor. Neither of them knew how to use furniture properly.
Danika shook her head, glancing briefly at me. “No, not yet. She is...”
“A bitch?” Roman said.
“Roman,” I warned.
He took in my expression and quickly muttered a sorry.
“I was going to say aloof,” Danika interrupted. “She’s just a little harder than everyone else, with the limitations. I’ll crack her, don’t worry.”
We discussed a few more pressing issues before the meeting was dismissed. Artyom briefed us on the security for the horserace in a few days, while Feodor updated us all on how the lab was progressing and when the next shipment would be ready.
After the meeting, I sought out Elena. She wasn’t in her room or with Tatiana; instead I found her in the library.
Elena kneeled on the floor, books fanned out in front of her that she looked to be sorting out. Her curtain of brown hair fell forward, hiding her face from view.
She stretched forward to grab a book out of reach, giving me a nice view of her backside. From her sweet peach-shaped ass to her long, blemish-free neck, Elena was the definition of temptation. She was a tall, lithe woman; close enough to