Dominic POV
The gunshots stopped.
That meant my men had killed the intruders, or the intruders had killed my men.
I shoved Isla behind me, gun raised, every muscle ready. Viktor appeared in the doorway, blood splattered across his face. Not his blood.
"Building secure," he said. "Three hostiles down. But Boss, you need to see what we found."
I didn't move. Couldn't. Because the impossible truth was still screaming in my head.
Sister. Isla was my sister.
Everything I'd felt watching her these past three months—the obsession, the possessiveness, the heat that burned through my chest when she smiled—all of it was wrong. Sick. The kind of twisted thing my father would have laughed about.
"Dominic?" Isla's voice shook behind me. "What's happening?"
I couldn't look at her. If I looked at her, I'd see my father's eyes. My blood. The one person I'd started to care about was the one person I could never have.
Viktor cleared his throat. "Boss. The bodies. You need to identify them."
I followed him to the living room, leaving Isla with two guards. Three dead men lay on my expensive carpet, blood soaking into white fibers. I'd have to burn this whole place down.
But when I saw their faces, ice filled my veins.
"These aren't Bratva," I said slowly. "These are Antonov's men."
Viktor nodded. "Chicago family. They came through the service entrance with stolen key cards."
The Antonovs were allies. We had a treaty. They had no reason to attack.
Unless someone told them to.
"Check their phones," I ordered. "Find out who sent them."
While Viktor worked, I walked to the window and stared at the city lights. Somewhere out there, someone had just tried to kill Isla. Or me. Or both of us.
And they'd done it the same day we discovered the truth about her father.
That wasn't coincidence.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
I answered without speaking.
"Hello, Dominic." A woman's voice, familiar but wrong. "Did you enjoy my little surprise?"
My hand tightened on the phone. "Who is this?"
"Oh, you've forgotten me already? I'm hurt. Then again, you always were good at forgetting the people who loved you."
Something cold crawled down my spine. I knew that voice. Knew it from years ago, before I became Boss, when I was just my father's punching bag.
"Natasha."
Laughter echoed through the line. "There's my clever brother. I was wondering if you'd recognize your own sister's voice."
Tasha. My half-sister. My father's legitimate daughter from his first marriage. She'd disappeared five years ago after trying to take over the Bratva. I'd thought she was dead.
Apparently, I'd thought wrong.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"What I've always wanted. What should have been mine. Father promised me the empire, Dominic. Then you killed him and took everything."
"Father died of cancer—"
"After you poisoned him slowly for two years." Her voice turned sharp. "Don't lie to me. I know what you did. I have proof. And now I have something better."
My blood turned cold. "What are you talking about?"
"Your little pet. Isla Monroe. Or should I call her Isla Volkov? My new sister is very interesting, Dominic. Very interesting indeed."
I gripped the phone so hard the screen cracked. "If you touch her—"
"You'll what? Kill me? You can't even find me." She laughed again. "But I can find her. I've been watching her for months. Watching you watch her through those cameras you think are so secret. You're obsessed with her, aren't you? The way Father was obsessed with Mother before he beat her to death."
"I'm nothing like him."
"Oh, but you are. That's what makes this so delicious. You fell for your own sister, Dominic. You wanted her. Dreamed about her. I saw your face when you looked at her. And now you know the truth, and it's destroying you."
My hand shook. How did she know? How did she know everything?
"Here's what's going to happen," Tasha continued. "You're going to bring Isla to the old Volkov estate tomorrow at midnight. Alone. And you're going to sign over control of the Bratva to me. Or I'll make sure everyone knows what you did—keeping your sister as your pet, touching her, wanting her. The Bratva doesn't forgive that kind of sin. They'll tear you apart."
"They won't believe you."
"Won't they? I have photos, Dominic. Videos from your own security system. I have everything I need to prove you're just like Father—a monster who destroys everything he touches."
The room spun. She was right. If the Bratva elders saw those images, if they thought I'd known Isla was my sister and kept her anyway...
"And if I don't come?" I asked.
"Then I kill her. Slowly. Painfully. The same way Father killed Mother. I'll send you pieces until there's nothing left."
The line went dead.
I stood frozen, phone in hand, my entire world cracking apart. Tasha was alive. She had proof of things that weren't even true. And she wanted to use Isla to destroy me.
"Boss?" Viktor appeared beside me. "We traced the attack coordination. The orders came from—"
"I know who sent them." I turned to face him. "Get me everything we have on Natasha Volkov. Every safe house, every contact, every place she might be hiding."
"Natasha? But she's—"
"Not dead. Very much alive. And she has Isla in her crosshairs."
Viktor's scarred face went pale. "What do you need?"
"Time." I looked toward the room where Isla waited with guards. "And the truth about her father. The real truth. Because something about this doesn't add up."
I'd ordered genetic tests three days ago. Results came back this morning showing Isla carried Volkov markers. But genetic tests could be faked. Results could be switched.
And Tasha had always been good at manipulation.
"Get Elena Monroe here," I told Viktor. "Under guard. She knows more than she told us. And pull Isla's original hospital records from before we took over her mother's care. I want to see everything."
Viktor nodded and left.
I walked back to Isla's room. She sat on the couch, arms wrapped around herself, face white as paper.
"We need to talk," I said.
She looked up at me with those hazel eyes—eyes that might or might not be my father's. "About what? About the fact that we're related? About how everything between us was wrong?"
"About the fact that I don't believe it." The words came out hard. Final. "Something's not right about those test results. Something's been wrong from the beginning."
"What do you mean?"
Before I could answer, Viktor burst through the door, phone in hand, his expression pure horror.
"Boss, we have a problem. Elena Monroe's hospital room—it's empty. She's gone. And there's blood. So much blood."