Chapter 44

44

NIKOLAI

T he explosion roars in my ears, a wave of heat and debris knocking me back. My body slams into the ground, my vision blurring for a moment as the smoke thickens. Gwen's scream echoes through the chaos, and that sound—her fear—drives me to move, despite the pain shooting up my spine.

Sho had his own plans. I should've known. There was no way a man like him would agree to do something like this without an ulterior motive, no matter the code of honor the Yakuza claims to abide by. He was banished from the ranks. He has no honor, no loyalty, and I will kill him for his deceit.

Sho is faster than everyone else. Blood sprays across my face as he slices the necks of men flying across the dock towards us. Aleksandr is hot on his tail, bodies upon bodies falling to the ground in his wake.

"Sho, you bastard!" Aleksandr's roar pierces through the thick smoke, cutting through the chaos. I barely turn in time to see Sho emerge, drenched in blood, eyes blazing with a single deadly purpose. His teeth are bared, his focus sharp, and I know without question who he's looking for—Boris.

If Sho gets to Boris, it'll end the Yakuza's grip on both sides. Killing him would be the final blow, the one that could set us free. But it would also mean losing Nadia forever.

She can't lose Boris. Not after everything. Boris might be a monster, but to Nadia, he's the only parent she has left. Our mother's gone—killed by the same man who raised us, who might not even be our real father. But for Nadia, Boris has always been her father. He was the one who held her as a child, who guided her, even if it was all under the shadow of the Bratva. She can't face the idea of losing him too, not without knowing the truth.

And that's the sliver of hope I have. Nadia hasn't forgiven me for everything—not yet—but there's a chance, however small, that she will if Boris survives. As much as she despises what he's done, she needs answers. She needs to know if the man she's been loyal to all her life is truly her father.

If Boris dies here, that hope dies with him. Nadia will never forgive me, not for this. Not for taking away her last parent before she knows for sure.

"Nadia," I hiss urgently, but she is already moving through the smoke without hesitation.

I scramble to my feet, frantically searching for Gwen. She's still on the dock, crumpled against a mound of debris, but alive. Relief floods through me, but it quickly fades as gunfire erupts all around us. The sound echoes in my ears like thunder, and I instinctively dive for cover as bullets whiz past, tearing through the air where I was just standing moments before .

Reacting instinctively, my hand reaches for my gun and I return fire, determined to take down as many of them as possible before reaching Gwen's side. The sharp crack of each shot reverberates in my ears, and I watch with satisfaction as two of Boris's men drop to the ground, their bodies crumpling in an instant.

Through the haze, I can see Boris—still standing like a man possessed, barking orders to his men. His wild eyes lock onto Gwen, his gun following his gaze. My stomach tightens in rage.

But before I can act, movement flashes in the corner of my vision. Two of Boris's soldiers emerge from the smoke, one to my left and the other on my right. They're closing in fast, their guns raised and ready. Instinct takes over, my body moving before my mind can catch up.

The first soldier lunges from the left, his figure a dark blur through the fog. I pivot sharply, dropping to one knee as his weapon cracks just above my head. The bullet whistles past, missing me by inches. Without wasting a second, I shoot. My bullet catches him in the chest, and he collapses, his weapon falling from his hands. He lets out a guttural scream, crumpling to the ground, but I'm already moving.

The second soldier charges in from the right, swinging the butt of his rifle toward my head. I twist my body just in time, feeling the air shift as the metal grazes past my cheek. The soldier follows up with a punch, but I parry his strike, catching his wrist and twisting it sharply. He grunts in pain, dropping the rifle, but he's still fast—his knee slams into my ribs with brutal force, sending a sharp burst of pain through my side. I stagger, gasping for air .

My vision blurs for a moment, but I force myself to focus. I slam my elbow into the side of his head, the crack of bone against bone echoing in the smoke-filled air. He stumbles back, dazed, giving me just enough time to grab him by the front of his vest. With a savage growl, I throw him to the ground, hard. He tries to rise, but before he can regain his footing, I drive my knee into his chest, pinning him to the ground.

My gun comes up, and I press it against his forehead, my finger hovering over the trigger. For a second, I meet his eyes, wide with panic, and then I pull the trigger. The shot is muffled by the smoke, but the effect is instant. His body goes limp beneath me.

I'm panting, my heart thudding in my chest as I rise to my feet. The dock is a battlefield, bodies littered around me, but I don't stop to count.

"The deal is off, Nikolai! She dies now!" Boris bellows, his gun aimed directly at Gwen's vulnerable body.

Everything seems to slow down as if time has frozen. With every ounce of strength left in me, I lunge towards Gwen just as Sho hurtles himself in the air and crashes into Boris. A searing pain rips through my thigh from a bullet that tears into it, causing me to stagger and nearly collapse from the intense heat radiating from the wound. Before I can fully recover, another shot strikes my shoulder with brutal force, propelling me sideways and sending waves of agony through my body. Then a third slams into my vest, the force nearly sending me to the ground again. The vest holds, but the impact leaves me gasping for breath.

"Gwen," I let out a gut-wrenching moan, clutching the gaping wound on my leg. My vision blurs with red as I see her trembling form reach up to touch the back of her head. With shaking hands, she brings her blood-covered fingers into her line of sight and my heart pounds with rage.

"Nik," she chokes.

I grit my teeth, pushing through the pain, and fire back, unloading my clip toward Boris's men, trying to create some space. "Stay down!" I manage to gasp out, biting my lips so hard from the pain, the taste of metal invades my mouth.

Sho and Boris wrestle each other, their bodies colliding with explosive force, my eyes desperately seek Gwen's.

Through the haze of smoke and blood, I see her, huddling by the SUV, holding her head as she violently shakes. Ignoring the agony coursing through my leg, I sprint toward her, firing over my shoulder as I grab her, hoisting her up.

"Nik," she cries into my neck.

I growl back, "Hold onto me and keep your head down."

The adrenaline pushes me forward, every beat of my heart pounding like a drum as I run across the dock, firing over my shoulder. Nadia is right by my side, a whirlwind of lethal precision, shooting her gun and breaking the necks of anyone who dares to come close. The sound of gunfire echoes in the air, and though we're making ground, we're far from safe. I can hear Boris's men regrouping, the shuffle of their footsteps creeping closer, a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

But none of that matters—not right now. Not when Gwen clings to me, trembling from the terror still coursing through her. Her body feels fragile in my arms, shaking with adrenaline and fear. I hold her tighter, as if I can shield her from everything that's happened, everything still to come .

When we reach the SUV, I place her into the backseat, my breath coming in heavy bursts. My eyes rake over her body, taking in every bruise, every cut, every ounce of pain she's endured. Despite it all—despite the blood, the dirt, the exhaustion dragging her down—her chest rises and falls in shallow but steady breaths.

She's alive.

For a fleeting moment, the world goes silent. The chaos around us, the gunfire, the shouts—it all disappears. It's just me and Gwen. My heart stutters in my chest as I look at her, my black hoodie hanging loosely on her battered frame. Her hands, once bound, are now free, though her knuckles are scraped raw. Her lip is swollen, her black eye a painful reminder of everything she's been through. Her hair, tangled and greasy, falls in disarray over her face, hiding her tired eyes.

But she's alive.

Relief floods through me, overwhelming and fierce, and I can't stop myself. My hands, still shaking, reach out to her. I gently push the hair away from her face, careful not to hurt her any more than she already is. My fingers tremble as they brush her skin, and all I can think about is how close I came to losing her.

"Gwen…" I whisper, her name barely leaving my lips. My voice cracks with the emotion I can't hold back. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and filled with tears that spill over her cheeks.

"Nik, I am so sorry," she whispers, her voice small and broken. I know what she's apologizing for—the twins, leaving the apartment, everything. But I don't care. I shake my head.

"Not now," I murmur, moving one of her knotted curls behind her ear. "Just keep your head down and stay here. "

"Nik," she protests, trying to move forward, but I stop her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. The fear in her eyes rips me apart, but I can't let her put herself in danger again.

"Stay here, Gwen," I growl, the desperation lacing my voice. She recoils slightly, retreating further into the back of the SUV. I should pull away, should slam the door and get back to the fight—but I can't. Not yet.

Before I can stop myself, I lean in and capture her lips with mine. The kiss is fierce, raw, and filled with everything I've been holding back—fear, relief, guilt, and love. Her swollen lips tremble against mine, but she kisses me back, her fingers curling into my shirt as if holding on for dear life.

In that moment, nothing else matters. Not the gunfire, not the chaos, not the danger waiting for me outside. Just her. Just this.

When I finally pull away, my forehead rests against hers, and I whisper, "Stay safe, Gwen. I'll come back for you. I swear."

Without waiting for a response, I pull back, my heart hammering, and slam the door shut, locking her inside.

Before I can return back to the fight, a vicious crack echoes through the air. I whip around to see Aleksandr pinning Boris to the ground, his arm twisted at an unnatural angle. Boris howls in pain, thrashing beneath Aleksandr, who's ruthless in his movements. Another sickening crack follows, and Boris's kneecap shatters under Aleksandr's boot, rendering him completely helpless.

"You're done," Aleksandr growls, towering over him. He grips Boris by the collar and starts to drag him across the dock towards us .

But the fight's far from over. Sho lunges at Nadia, and she meets him head-on, her eyes blazing with fury. They clash in a blur of fists and blades, and I can barely keep up. Nadia's fast—faster than I've ever seen her—but Sho's not holding back. He's in it to kill, and every blow between them feels like a death sentence waiting to be delivered.

I force my body to move, pulling myself toward them, every muscle screaming in protest. I need to help Nadia, but then I catch sight of something far more dangerous—Mr. Matsumoto, standing calmly in the chaos, his eyes locked on me.

This ends now.

With my good arm, I draw my gun and stagger toward Matsumoto. He doesn't flinch as I press the barrel of the gun to his temple, his calm demeanor unwavering. "Call them off," I snarl, my voice low, barely containing the rage boiling beneath the surface.

His smile doesn't fade. "Or what, Nikolai? You think my men won't kill you dead right here, right now?"

"I'll blow your fucking head off," I snap, pushing the barrel harder against his skull. "Besides, if you're dead then the heir to the throne is Sho, right?"

Matsumoto's jaw rolls in anger but I push the barrel firmer against his temple, barking loudly, "Call them off."

My voice echoes and the fighting slows. Nadia's got Sho pinned to the ground with Aleksandr's help, both of them holding him down as he thrashes in a desperate attempt to free himself. Boris is unconscious, his arm and knee shattered beyond repair, leaning against the door of our SUV.

Everything hangs in the balance .

Matsumoto tilts his head, almost like he's amused. "And if I do not? What will you do then?"

I don't answer. The click of my gun's safety being released is all he gets in response.

The dock falls eerily silent, save for the distant crash of waves and the labored breathing of those still standing.

"If my siblings or I die, then you lose all sway in the Bravta. Boris will be dead regardless of your move and no one else in the family will make a deal with the Yakuza," I spit on the ground.

"Otōsan!" Sho barks from across the dock but Matsumoto doesn't even look in his direction. Instead, he swipes his hand once across his chest, and all his men return to a soldier's stance, stiff with hands locked behind their backs.

"We will be taking Sho," Matsumoto says, looking at me from the corner of his eye.

"No. Sho has a life debt to Aleksandr. We will be cashing that in now."

Matsumoto shakes his head in disappointment, but he doesn't spare a glance at Sho or me. He turns away, my gun still trained on the back of his head. After a few steps towards the towncar I didn't even notice was there, he pauses and looks at me over his shoulder. "A lesson for you from a father who doesn't want you dead. Next time you pull a gun on a man like me, kill me, no deals, no hesitation."