THE HANDLER
THE CELLS OF KALASHOV
BOOK TWO
A DARK BRATVA ROMANCE
BY VI CARTER
Other Books by VI CARTER
A BROKEN HEART SERIES
SAVING GRACE
CLAIMING AMBER
TAKING LAURA
WILD IRISH SERIES
RECKLESS (prequel)
VICIOUS #1
RUTHLESS #2
FEARLESS #3
MERCILESS #4
HEARTLESS #5
THE BOYNE CLUB
DARK #1
DARKER #2
DARKEST #3
PITCH BLACK #4
THE OBSESSED DUET
A DEADLY OBSESSION #1
A CRUEL CONFESSION #2
THE CELLS OF KALASHOV
THE SIXTH (NOVELLA)
THE COLLECTOR #1
THE HANDLER #2
THE YOUNG IRISH REBELS
MAFIA PRINCE #1
MAFIA KING #2
MAFIA GAMES #3
MAFIA BOSS #4
WARNING
This book is a dark romance. This book contains scenes that may be triggering to some readers and should be read by those only 18 or older.
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PROLOGUE
EVIE
I’m ten again.
I can smell the salt that the wind carries along its long arms and dips into my hair, stirring the long strands. My lip tugs up painfully as the broken shells, and small pebbles dig into my bare feet. My toes automatically curl around the pebbles to keep my footing.
I grip my hair and push it back while looking at the small light that shines in the cottage window, guiding me back to the warmth of my bed.
It’s tempting.
My dad always said the water called to me like a sinking ship called to the captain. He’s right. I know I shouldn't be out here this late at night, but the salt on my lips has me stepping closer to the crashing waves.
My skin tingles with the whip of the harsh breeze and the anticipation of the ice-cold water. I’m walking faster. The smile on my face is growing. An excited scream that I can’t hold in pours from my mouth and collides with the roar of the waves.
Water rushes over my feet, and I have a sense of belonging. Even at the age of ten, the water is where I am free, where I’m on an adventure. The water embraces me and bites me at the same time. Sound shifts as a wave takes me under, and I open my eyes. Nothing makes sense, really, but I know it’s the ocean. I know I’m being swallowed into a different world. My body grows weightless, and I let the ocean carry me along, the white spray of another wave rolls closer, and I’d laugh if I weren’t underwater. I’m spun out of control, and I give myself over to the ocean. The surface splits above my head, and I take in a lung full of air as I ride the wave back to the shore.
I’m breathless with happiness and turn to the sea again. I’m ready to take another ride. I pause. An old wooden boat that’s bigger than a rowboat moves across the waves, too fast. Even at ten, I think it’s too fast. I can’t see anyone in the boat but watch as the waves raise it into the air like an Olympian raising a trophy.
It’s flung around as it rides up onto the shore, the impact against the stones tearing it nearly apart. The sea spits it out, and I wait until the waves recede before running along the shore to the wreck. My ten-year-old brain is excited about finding treasure inside the boat. The idea of a hidden message or even a hidden map has my small legs pumping faster.
A green tarp covers half the inside of the boat. Gripping it, I pull it back. I’m aware of the wave rising up again behind me as I pull the tarp off completely. A small body is curled up on the floor of the boat. Her legs are so white, and that’s what makes the red marks on her ankles so stark. Her frame lays motionless on the bottom of the boat, and I think she’s my age, but I can’t be sure as her hair covers her face.
I jump in, ready to pull her out, ready to help her when the wave that I had forgotten about covers us both. I have a split second to reach out and grab her raw wrist before we are lifted and dragged back into the sea. I know fighting with the ocean is pointless, so I try to allow it to take me.
This time, when we spin and shift, it isn’t like before. I’m afraid for the girl I have in my grasp. The water keeps us under longer than it normally does. My lungs burn, and I open my eyes to the darkened sea before my head collides with something sharp. I hold her hand until I can’t any longer, and I’m sinking.
I open my mouth to call out for my dad. Water pours in, and the burn in my lungs has me gripping my chest. That’s my last memory of home.
CHAPTER ONE
LUCCA
“Lucca, take a seat.”
The silver-haired man is not one I have had the privilege of meeting.
“Thank you, Igor. It’s an honor.” Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I sit down across from him. Behind Igor is the steel and glass jungle of our city. A city that Igor rules with no mercy.
“This is a sensitive topic. One I want my best man on.”
I reel with the compliment. Igor leans closer, placing his joined hands on the desk. A silver band with a ruby in the center is the only jewelry on his thick fingers.
I’m tempted to drag my leg up, but I remain still as Igor’s small blue eyes roam across my face.
“You are good at what you do.” His lips that
