Chapter 39

39

NIKOLAI

" W hat do you mean his children?" Nadia snarls, stepping closer to Kelsey.

I don't respond, my eyes trained on the two cowering young children, who eye me with caution and confusion. They're so young, so vulnerable.

Gio grips his sister's arm protectively as he silently moves to stand slightly in front of her. I stare into his eyes, watching my own suspicious expression spread across his face, like he understands the weight of the world on his tiny shoulders. Fuck, he's my carbon copy—his protective instincts, the way his eyes narrow suspiciously, the same way mine do when I sense danger.

And then there's Mia. She laces her fingers with his. Her eyes run across my body from head to toe, as if she wants to remember what I look like to identify me in a future line up. Shit, while Mia looks like Gwen, she also looks like my mother.

"I mean these are Gwen and Nikolai's children," Kelsey snaps, her voice cutting through the fog in my mind.

As Kelsey says the words, my world seems to shatter around me. My breath hitches, and Gwen's face flashes in my mind, an unfamiliar anger rises in my chest, but it's quickly swallowed by an overwhelming flood of disbelief and something else—joy. Joy? I can't even recognize it at first, buried under the layers of betrayal and fear. How could she keep this from me? My own flesh and blood, hidden away like a secret shame.

"Please." Nadia lets out a harsh laugh. "As if he would have a child in this world and not know about it."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

My eyes bounce between both the twins, and when Mia's eyes lock with mine, she pulls at Kelsey's skirt harder hiding like she is scared I will hurt her. I flash Mia a small smile and she furrows her brows, looking so much like my mother it fucking hurts.

"Does a dog bark?" Nadia retorts, her grin sharp, but her voice falters when she catches the tremor in mine.

"Nadia, she looks like Mama," I whisper. My voice is so quiet, almost as if I'm afraid saying it out loud will make them disappear or make this more real than it already is.

Nadia looks down at Mia, whose lower lip is quivering in fear and her eyes have a shimmering crystal gloss covering them. "Не может быть!" she gasps, dropping down to her knees in front of the little girl.

The disbelief in her voice mirrors the storm brewing inside me. There's a part of me that wants to shout, to rage against the unfairness of it all. How could Gwen do this? How could she say she loves me and not tell me we have children? Did she not trust me that much? But there's something else too—an instinctual need to protect them that's clawing its way to the surface, eclipsing all other emotions.

Gio steps closer to me, his wide eyes filled with confusion. He steps closer to me, and instinctively, I bend down to his level, my face inches from his. He places a palm on my cheek and tilts his head to the side. His eyebrows furrow as if he's trying to make sense of this, of me. He studies me, the warmth of his palm anchoring me to him.

"You have eyes like mine," he whispers, his voice so innocent, so pure. It breaks something in me.

I nod, covering his hand with mine. "Nadia," I call out, still staring into Gio's eyes, but she doesn't respond and my breath hitches when Gio's thumb moves cautiously across my cheek.

"You know," Gio begins, his voice soft, yet direct like his Uncle Aleksandr, "monkey dads and their sons do this thing to feel closer." He pulls his hand back and gently strokes my cheek again, this time in a smooth motion from my jaw to the apple of my cheek. "They touch each other like this, on the back, or the head, or the arms. It helps them feel safe and loved."

My chest tightens like I am being crushed by the weight of an elephant. It's like a part of me I never knew I was missing came home, and my disbelief, and joy are being eclipsed by fear.

I blink, absorbing his words, feeling a warmth spreading through my chest, mingling with the confusion and disbelief that's been swirling inside me since I first laid eyes on him. "Safe and loved," I repeat, my voice a little hoarse.

Gio nods, a small, serious expression on his face. "Yeah. It's like their way of saying, 'I'm here for you. Everything's going to be okay.' It helps them stay calm, too."

A lump forms in my throat as his tiny fingers brush against my skin. I reach out, hesitating only for a moment before I gently stroke his hair, my fingers brushing through the soft waves. "Like this?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles, a small, reassuring smile that seems too mature for a child his age. "Exactly like that," he says, leaning into my touch.

I inhale deeply, a part of myself feeling complete in a way that terrifies me. I never knew I was missing this, and now that Gio and Mia are here, the thought of losing them paralyzes me. I hold his cheek in my hand and call out to Nadia again, "Защити их, Надя."

"Yes, Nik. I will protect them," she responds, her voice filled with a fondness I have never heard in her voice before. My eyes flicker to her tucking a hair behind Mia's ears. "I will do it because they are innocent and do not deserve to suffer for your sins."

I stand up slowly, my knees weak, and turn to face Kelsey. "You are under the protection of the Petrov family. My sister will take you all to the safe house in the Hamptons."

As I head back to the conference room, where the other Mafia leaders are waiting, I can feel the tremor in my hands, the way my breath catches in my throat. When I round the corner, I pause, inhaling a deep breath and gripping the wall, hoping to God no one can see how shaky my breathing has been since Gio, my son, touched me.

GWE N

I have never been religious and right now I regret that.

Nana Rose has always chastised me for never going to church, never getting the twins baptized, never securing my soul for the best afterlife possible. She'd always say, "You will be scared at death's door because you have no faith in what's next."

I guess you were right, Nana. I am at death's door hoping he won't be home, or at least be in the mood for a bargain. But, you know, Nana, you were wrong, heaven isn't pearly white with gold gates. It's just gray, a little empty with this throbbing feeling that makes my head hurt. I thought you said there was no disease or pain in heaven. I thought you said there was peace.

I mock Nana in my head, but just as the white light parts through the gray of purgatory, my eyes flutter open. So, joke's on me—I wasn't dead yet, and Nana still isn't here.

The cold, damp air bites at my skin, and I slowly blink the grogginess out of my eyes. The pounding in my head only intensifies as the light seeps into my vision. It's harsh, almost blinding, and every flicker of brightness feels like a sledgehammer to my skull.

My wrists are raw from the rope tied around them, bound tightly behind the metal chair that digs into my skin, making my whole lower body ache with a deep, dull pain. The seat is hard and unyielding, and my butt is so numb that it feels like I'm sitting on pins and needles. My mouth is parched, every breath a struggle against the dryness that scratches at my throat, but my lips are sealed shut by duct tape, trapping my desperate gasps for air.

I blink, trying to clear my eyes, but they're sticky with the remnants of tears that have dried into a crust, making it difficult to open them fully. It feels like I've been crying for hours, my vision blurred and stinging as if the tears had mixed with salt. My ankles, tied to the chair's legs, are the only part of my body spared from the harsh bite of the ropes, cushioned by the soft fabric of my sweatpants, but even that small mercy does little to ease the overwhelming discomfort.

I want to scream, to thrash against these bindings, but my body won't cooperate, and slowly, I remember the last time I did that. The first time I woke up, I screamed for Nik and was met with a pink-haired man who quickly silenced me with a sharp jab to my arm. The cold burn of the sedative spread through my veins as I fought against it, but my vision blurred, and darkness swallowed me whole.

This time, I inhale deeply, trying to cool my nerves, but all I can smell is the metallic blood mixed with the cedar of Nikolai and it makes me want to cry. Fuck, Nikolai is probably tearing the city apart looking for me.

Somewhere in the fog of my mind, I cling to the hope that Nik will come, that he'll find me before it's too late. I picture him storming through the door, fury blazing in his eyes, and it gives me a flicker of strength, just enough to keep my heart from sinking completely into despair.

I force myself to take shallow breaths, in through my nose, out through the small gaps the duct tape allows. The air is stale, heavy with the scent of mold and dampness, but I need to keep breathing. I need to stay conscious. For him. For our kids .

I can feel my heart stop beating when their faces flash in my mind. Mia's golden hair and Gio's dark blue gaze. They are probably sitting in Taylor's house waiting for me to come, to hold them, to tell them I love them. Panic rises in my throat. I don't remember the last time I told them I loved them.

If I can't stay alive for me, I damn sure will stay alive for them. I wiggle against my restraints, trying to ignore the searing pain in my wrists. My fingers scrape against the rough ropes, and I try to find any slack, any possible weakness in the knots. I twist my wrists, feeling the sting of the raw skin tearing further, but I can't stop. There has to be a way out of this. I just need a chance, a single moment to?—

A door screeches open above me, the sound sharp and grating, forcing my body to go rigid, my pulse hammering in my ears as footsteps echo down the stairs. Each step sends a fresh wave of panic crashing over me, and I try to shrink into the chair, to make myself as small as possible.

The footsteps stop, and I hold my breath, every muscle in my body tensing in anticipation. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of my chest.

Then a shadow falls over me, and a man steps into view. He's tall and muscular, his presence dominating the small space. His hair is streaked with gray, a stark contrast to his dark, predatory eyes.

He tilts his head, looking at me with an unnervingly polite smile. "Ah, you're awake," he says, his voice smooth and cold. "Now the fun can begin."

I flinch at his words, a fresh surge of terror flooding my veins. He takes a step closer, and I fight the urge to recoil, to scream, but my voice is trapped, strangled by fear and the tape over my mouth. All I can do is stare up at him, wide-eyed, as he leans down, his eyes gleaming with a sickening anticipation.

"Don't worry," he murmurs, his breath hot against my face as he reaches for my lips. "We're going to have a lot of fun together."

He rips the duct tape off of my mouth, and I scream.