When I left the Volkov mansion, I returned to the rundown apartment where my mother and I once lived. I brought Sofia’s ashes with me. The cemetery controlled by the syndicate had a three-day waiting period before burial.
On the day of the interment, I had just opened the door with the urn in my arms when a force slammed into me. Someone had kicked me hard enough to knock me to the ground. I barely managed to steady the urn before it slipped.
I looked up and saw Vincent standing over me, fury blazing in his eyes.
Behind him, Roxanne Vega stood flanked by armed bodyguards, her face half-hidden by a white mask.
Vincent stepped over me and entered the apartment without permission, shouting Sofia’s name as if summoning a disobedient subordinate. He kicked open doors one by one, growing more impatient each second when he found no sign of her.
Finally, he strode back to me and grabbed my collar. “Where is Sofia? Tell her to come out right now.”
I tightened my arms around the urn. “You have no right to say her name,” I replied coldly. “Take your mistress and leave.”
My words ignited him.
“Mind your tone,” he warned. “Don’t make me teach you how to speak.”