Chapter 41

41

NIKOLAI

I n exchange for more than half of the Russian territory and a couple of favors I would have to find a way out of, the Italian and Irish mafias agreed to shut down the city. The Polish mafia on the other hand, well, they don't have a leader anymore. By the time I made it back into the main room, Aleksandr had killed him as an example, or for making a crude comment about Lily. Either way, it didn't matter. The Polish were small compared to the Bratva in New York, so their revenge for the death of their leader would have to wait.

When I asked about the gang in DC that Gwen's father owed money to, Dante already had the Howlers gang on his payroll. Mason was a means to an end, costing more than he was worth and I was given the green light to dispose of him accordingly.

It had been three weeks since Boris left me with my mother's hand and one week of Gwen being held hostage, and I had only gotten a total of six hours of sleep. My body pulsed with exhaustion, but I pushed it to the side because we were finally outside the entrance to Howlers' headquarters where Mason could be keeping Gwen .

We were one step closer to rescuing Gwen and bringing her back home. One step closer to finally uncovering the truth about why she would keep my children away from me. And even if this lead turned out to be a dead end, I would still have accomplished something valuable: not only would I potentially bury the lead that Gwen could be here instead of with Boris, but I would also make sure Mason paid for his threats against the woman I love and the mother of my children. It was all still a win-win.

I slam through the door, the frame splintering under the force of my entry with Nadia right behind me. Aleksandr stayed at home with kids because Mia insisted on giving him a makeover. If one of my siblings wasn't watching Gio and Mia, I wouldn't feel at ease leaving them behind while I traveled to Washington D.C. in search of Gwen. However, Nadia was adamant about coming with me to confront Mason, so that meant Aleksandr had to stay in New York with the twins. When we left, Aleksandr had a gun strapped to his chest with red lips and sky blue eyeshadow, and a confused expression that also looked like a plea for help.

The rancid stench of cigarettes and sweat assaults my senses as I storm into the dingy house doubling as an underground UFC club. All the men look at me with hard eyes, and a particularly ugly man with one eye spits at my feet.

"Eh," the ugly man with a thick Hungarian accent rang through the house. "What the fuck do you think you're doing here, pretty boy?"

I offer him a wide, devilish smile and speak with the carefree bravado of a man who owed the ground he stood on. Nadia stands with a shotgun sitting on her shoulder, more for show because men like this normally didn't see her as a threat and there is nothing that angered her more than that. "I am looking for Mason."

"Yeah?" a big, burly man with thin lips and a bald head questions, his four-finger hand leaning against his knee. "Who's asking?"

"Ah, Venom." I walk up to him, swinging my knife open as I make my way over. "I thought you would remember me, pal. You know I still have your finger?"

I wiggle my eyebrows, teasing him, and three guys hold him back when he lunges for me. I wink at him. "Don't worry, babes, we'll play later." I look around the room again, screaming at the top of my lungs. "Mason!"

"Mr. Petrov," a man's voice rings from up the stairs, and I see the skinny bastard wiping his bloody hands on a cloth as he enters the room. "It's not normal that I get a visit from a man of your caliber. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You wouldn't happen to know where a curly-haired girl named Gwen is?" I ask, flipping the knife in and out as casually as I could muster.

"You mean my girl?" Mason's eyes narrow as he clicks his head to the side, standing on the last step of the stairs. His hands are still pink from someone else's blood. My body runs cold and my smile turns cheshire.

"Your girl?" I question with a flicked eyebrow, keeping my composure. "Don't make a fool of yourself, Mason. You and I both know she's mine, but if you don't understand that, I could surely beat it into you."

Mason giggles. He fucking laughs in my face. "You won't get within five feet of me before one of my men kills you."

"See, that's why I have her." I point to Nadia who stands behind me, casually popping the gum in her mouth.

"And what's a little girl going to do to us?" Venom chuckles, clinking his glass with a green haired boy next to him.

I glance back at Nadia and give her a subtle nod. In one swift movement, she lunges at Venom, grabbing his head and slamming it into the glass he was previously tapping on so arrogantly. Blood spurts out from his broken nose as he staggers back, letting out a guttural scream that only brings satisfaction to my smirk.

Nadia's hand moves with lightning speed, pulling out a silver blade from her boot. She plunges it deep into Venom's gut, twisting it with a satisfied smirk as his screams turn into gurgles and blood pours from his mouth. With precision and ease, she slashes his throat in one fluid motion, creating a spray of crimson that paints the air in front of us as Venom crumples to the ground.

Nadia stands over Venom's body, wiping her blade on his shirt with a casual disdain, as if she was polishing a spoon. I turn my gaze back to Mason, whose smug grin has vanished entirely.

"Nadia," I say, my voice cold and steady, "has a way of getting the point across, don't you think?"

Mason swallows hard, looking over at his men, who eye Nadia with caution as she picks her shotgun back off of the floor and places it back on her shoulder.

"Now," I continue, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "I'll ask you again, Mason. Where is Gwen?"

Mason's eyes dart around the room, and he rolls his shoulders back, staring at me head on. Instead of answering, Mason sneers, his lips curling into a twisted grin. "You think you scare me, Petrov? You think I'm just gonna roll over and give you what you want? No, Gwen is mine, so fuck off."

I tilt my head, assessing Mason with cold, calculating eyes. He's either a fool in love, unbelievably stupid, or just that unlucky. But it doesn't matter to me. I will kill him all the same. With a casual shrug, I lift my hoodie off, roll my neck to the side, and let out a low, menacing growl. "Since you insist on being difficult," I spit out each word like acid, "your entire sorry excuse for a club will have the pleasure of witnessing me beat you within an inch of your life."

I don't give him a chance to respond. I close the distance between us in a heartbeat, my fist connecting with his jaw in a brutal uppercut that sends him stumbling back. His men don't dare intervene; they know the consequences would be lethal. Nadia pops her gum with a smile on her lips.

Mason recovers quickly, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes narrow with a mixture of fury and determination. "Really, Petrov? A sucker punch?" he spits, lunging forward.

I duck under his first swing, but he catches me off guard with a quick jab to my ribs. The pain radiates through my side, but I shake it off, retaliating with a hook that connects solidly with his cheekbone.

I don't allow him to breathe as I deliver a series of rapid blows, each one more punishing than the last. Blood sprays from his mouth as I smash his face with my knee. His cries of pain are music to my ears, and I smile as his shattered face looks at mine.

The room is silent except for the sickening thud of my fists connecting with flesh and bone. I can feel the rage boiling inside me, the fury that has been building ever since Gwen disappeared, ever since I met my children, since Boris killed my mother. Every punch I land is for them, for the terror he put her through, for the danger he placed my children in.

Mason's face is a bloody, swollen mess by the time I finally stop, barely recognizable. He gasps for air, his chest heaving with the effort to stay conscious, his breath coming in ragged, shaky bursts as he falls to the ground

"Where is she?" I demand again, my voice low and lethal. My hand grips his hair to pull his face back up to me.

With blood dribbling from his mouth and his teeth loose in his gums, Mason finally breaks. "Boris…a man named Boris has her. She's…she's in the warehouses in the South Bronx."

I lean in close, my lips brushing his ear as I whisper, "Good. You did one good thing with your useless life."

The words barely leave my mouth before I drive my knife into his chest, and growling against his ear, I twist it slowly as his body convulses in agony. "This is for threatening my woman."

His eyes widen in shock, the life draining out of them as I pull the blade free and watch him collapse to the floor.

For a moment, I just stand there, breathing heavily, letting the adrenaline that ran through my veins sizzle to a simmer. All the energy I had, the thread keeping me standing and giving me the strength to beat the crap out of Mason, seems to snap, and before I can stop it, three weeks of exhaustion catch up to me.

My eyes drop to the blood pooling around Mason's lifeless body. I turn to face his men, who are frozen in place, and I can feel their eyes locked on me. I drop to my knees, my head spinning and my body heavier than it has ever been .

Nadia steps forward, her shotgun slung over her shoulder,

"Now," Nadia says, her voice cold and unyielding, "either you fall in line with Dante and his men and leave here alive, or you stay and die here and now. Choose wisely, boys."

The room is silent, save for the sound of the men shuffling nervously out of the house. I close my eyes, listening to the footsteps and whispering to myself she's almost home. "Nikolai," Nadia whispers, her finger curve around my shoulder.

The front door slams and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Ты устал, брат," she whispers.

"I am fine, Nadia." I take a deep breath, not willing to open my eyes even as Mason's blood seeps into the fabric of my jeans. "The South Bronx, we need to."

"No, you need to go home and rest. Your men will search the warehouses. You can sleep for the next couple of hours." Nadia's voice is firm, almost motherly, and that makes me smile and groan.

"Буду отдыхать на том свете," I whisper, finally opening my eyes to stare at the empty wall in front of me.

"You will be dead sooner than you need to if you don't rest. You have been going without sleep for three weeks."

"Why do you care?" I mutter. "I thought you hated me."

"I do, but you cannot fight our father in your current state. He will kill you and Gwen. Besides if you are going to die," she bends down into my ear, "I want to be the one to kill you."

The helicopter lands in the backyard of my Hamptons villa. It was a two-hour plane ride from DC back to New York, followed by a conversation with Nadia about the layout of warehouses in the South Bronx. I don't even remember the details of the conversation. I'm not even sure how I got here; my mind is a haze of exhaustion and rage, memories of blood and Mason's lifeless eyes blending into the dark void that has consumed me since Gwen disappeared.

As I step into the dimly lit hallway, the silence is almost suffocating. The house is too quiet, and the weight of everything presses down on me. My body aches, my knuckles are still bruised from the fight, and all I want is to close my eyes for a moment. But before I can even think of sleep, I hear the soft patter of small feet on the hardwood floor.

"Daddy?"

I freeze, turning to find Mia standing at the top of the stairs, clutching a worn-out stuffed rabbit to her chest. Her wide eyes look at me cautiously and she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth like Gwen does when she's nervous.

She takes a tentative step down the stairs, her little face scrunched up in thought. "Uncle David said you are my dad."

A lump forms in my throat, making it difficult to speak. I nod slowly. "Uncle David was right. I'm your dad." The words feel foreign, unreal, but her face lights up with a smile that melts away some of the darkness inside me.

"Why are you up so late, солнышко?"

"I was waiting for you," she says softly, taking another step closer. "I made you something. It's a present."

My heart aches as she reaches into the pocket of her pajama pants and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. She hands it to me, her little hands shaking slightly. I take it, unfolding it carefully. It's a drawing—me, Gwen, Mia, and Gio, all holding hands, with the words "I love you, Daddy" written in shaky letters at the top.

"I always wanted a daddy," she says, her voice so innocent, so full of hope.

I feel a pang of guilt, realizing how much she's missed out on because of me, because of everything. As much as I want to find Gwen, a part of me, a very small part, is so mad at her I am scared to see her again. I swallow hard, forcing a smile.

I feel the weight of exhaustion bearing down on me as I kneel in front of Mia, her innocent eyes filled with a trust I don't deserve. I gently take her tiny hand in mine, the drawing she made crumpling slightly in my grip. "I'm here now, Mia. I'm not going anywhere."

She tilts her head, studying me and then scrunching up her nose as her tiny fingers pull at my cheeks. "You look tired."

I let out a soft chuckle, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. "I am tired. I've been having some nightmares."

Mia's eyes widen, and her nose scrunches in disgust. I immediately regret saying nightmare, but she twists her lips in thought and then holds out the well-worn rabbit almost as big as she is that she has been holding at her side.

"You need Mr. Floppy," she says earnestly. "He helps with bad dreams. Mr.Floppy makes everything better. "

I pick her up, cradling her small frame against my chest, carrying her back up the stairs to the room she shares with Gio. I smile, touching the ear of the rabbit. "Are you sure you don't need him? "

Mia nods sleepily, resting her head on my shoulder. "I don't need him anymore because I have you."

Something sweet bursts in my chest and I pull her closer to my chest in my arms. "Thank you, Mia," I whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You're a brave girl."

"Just don't lose him! He's my best friend." She yawns.

"I would never. I promise. I'll take good care of him," I say, gently pushing open the door to the bedroom where she and Gio are staying. The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of a night light casting shadows on the walls. I lay Mia down in her bed, tucking the blanket around her small body. She snuggles into the pillow, her eyes already drifting closed.

"Goodnight, Mia," I whisper, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"Goodnight, Daddy," she murmurs, her voice barely audible as sleep takes over.

I stand there for a moment, watching her, feeling a strange mix of emotions—relief, love, fear, and that ever-present guilt. I quietly close the door behind me, leaning against it for a second to steady myself.

Then my phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling me back to reality. I pull it out, a sense of dread washing over me as I see the message notification. I swipe the screen and feel my stomach drop. It's a photo of Gwen.

Her face is battered, one eye purple and swollen, a cut running across her cheek. I seethe with rage, but before I can break the phone in my hand, another message follows immediately after:

Ready for a trade?