Chapter 21: Roman

Chapter 17 – Roman

The humming sound of the engine filled the car's cabin as I drove to Julia’s place to pay her a surprise visit.

I'd received a call from my house guard saying Julia had left the house in a hurry, and now I was curious as to why she'd stormed out without notifying me.

But I figured maybe she needed to get some stuff and that she would return once she got what she wanted. However, I couldn't head home directly from work, knowing that I could stop by her place and see for myself what she was up to.

Should her luggage be too heavy, I'd be more than happy to help. I wouldn't mind her staying at my place for as long as she wanted. She wasn't safe back at her apartment, at least not until the thing with the Cypher family was completely swept under the rug.

As I drove to get her, images of our time together last night kept flashing in my mind. Her moans echoed in my head, making me hard in my pants as a shiver ran through my body at the thought of how she was all in.

No restrictions, no reservations—Julia had given herself completely to me. She'd surrendered, fully submitted, and never held back on expressing that desire that filled her heart.

My hands rubbed over my face as I continued my journey, eyes fixed on the road, struggling to stay focused. These erotic scenes replaying in my head weren't helping; they were a distraction, a dangerous one that could cost me my life if I continued to entertain them.

I shook my head as though literally trying to shake them off, my grip tightening around the steering wheel. I drew a deep breath, making the decision to focus for now and sink back into my thoughts at a later time.

I would be no good to her or the Bratva or anyone at all if I was dead, dying in a car crash.

In no time, I regained control of my mind, seeking comfort in the possibility of getting laid at her apartment. We'd fucked all night at mine, from my office to my bedroom; it wouldn't be a bad idea to do the same at hers. Perhaps from her living room to her bedroom.

Fuck, that would be so hot.

I was losing myself with Julia, displaying acts of emotions when, deep down, I knew that I was playing a dangerous game. I wasn't sure exactly who she was—nothing about her was certain to me. Yet, I ignored my voice of reason and chose to give in to this…whatever this was.

Outside her apartment, I pulled over and killed the engine, eyes darting up toward her window, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of her.

I exited the car and headed into the building, imagining the look she'd wear upon seeing me. My lips curled into a small smile just thinking about her reaction to my surprise visit.

Upstairs, my shoes clicked softly on the floor as I glided over to her door. I raised my hand to knock when my eyes dropped to the hinges, and I noticed the door wasn't locked.

My brows knitted together. Considering the situation at hand, she shouldn't have left the door open. What if I hadn’t been the one at the door?

I grabbed the handle, turned it, and opened the door, revealing the clean interior. I walked inside, scanning the room with my sharp eyes. Everything was in place, neat, and smelled nice compared to the last time I was here.

The rug in the living room, once stained with the blood of my victims, was replaced with an identical one—Boris had cleaned up the entire place, leaving no traces of us behind.

I walked around the house—her living room, kitchen, and bedroom—but she was nowhere to be found. In fact, I didn't think she'd been here since the incident.

If she left my place in such a hurry and didn't come here, where the fuck did she go then?

I clenched my jaw, a scowl settling on my face as I felt a pang of jealousy swell up inside me. Was she with another man? My teeth gritted as I stood in her room, wondering where on Earth she might be.

Withdrawing my phone from my pocket, I called her number, clasping the device over my ear. It was ringing on the other line, but she wasn't picking up.

My frown deepened as I called her back a second time. Still no answer.

“Fuck,” I mustered, harboring a series of unhealthy thoughts in my mind.

The idea that she might be with another man and the fact that I was completely in the dark about her current whereabouts was infuriating.

I resorted to texting Boris, telling him to find out where she was. After hitting the send icon, I shoved my phone back in my pocket, and just as I was about to leave her bedroom, my eyes caught something sticking out of a wallet resting on her bedside table.

My eyes narrowed at it.

It was a picture, and it piqued my curiosity, prompting me to step over to her table. I did, towering over it as I withdrew the photograph, my eyes widening in shock at the man and woman in that picture. It was Anthony and Margaret Gray with their two kids—a teenage girl and a boy of about ten.

My chest expanded, lips pressed into a thin line.

Why does she have a photograph of the Gray family?

My forehead creased in shock and bewilderment.

Peering closer, I realized that the teenage girl in the photograph had a pair of hazel eyes and silky dark hair. Instantly, I felt my temperature rising, my breaths quickening as I realized the girl in the picture was actually Julia. She was a lot younger then, but it was her. I was certain.

“What is this? What's going on here?” I wondered, my voice low and laced with a mix of shock and fury.

I recalled that night at the restaurant when I asked her about the Grays. It suddenly made sense why she got nervous, triggered by my question.

“Why did you hate him so much—Anthony Gray?” her voice echoed in my head.

I remembered seeing a glint of resentment in her eyes, but I'd ignored it.

Hit by a wave of consternation, I staggered a bit, reminiscing on how we'd met—how she'd seduced me at the club.

Julia had targeted me that night, and she'd been using me all this time.

My jaw tightened, fingers balling into fists. The scowl on my face deepened, as did the creases on my forehead. I blamed myself for getting carried away by her charms and ignoring all the signs my senses had picked up.

How had I let this happen?

Julia was clearly an enemy, and with the accuracy of her execution, I concluded that she'd been planning this for a long time.

Everything I thought had happened by chance, she'd orchestrated. She tricked me, fooled me, used me. Why? Because she thought I had a hand in her parents’ death?

How dare she manipulate me?

My rage was a living thing, pulsing through my veins and expanding my massive frame. Adrenaline surged through me, causing my muscles to tremble as I scrunched up the photo in my fist.

My hands shook, shoulders tensing as I unleashed a feral grunt, slamming into the wall—leaving a deep dent in the surface.

Chapter 18 – Julia

I sat in the backseat of the Uber with a smile playing on the corners of my lips as I found comfort in the established fact that Roman wasn't the enemy.

My heart was overwhelmed with relief, and I hadn't felt so light in a long time. Finally, there was peace within me, and for once, the voices in my head all agreed on one thing: that Roman wasn't the bad guy.

It would have been catastrophic if it had turned out that I'd been right this whole time—that he was who I thought he was. Falling in love with the man who had murdered my parents in cold blood and carrying his child would have been a next-level disaster.

I'd never been happier about being wrong. Realizing my mistake lifted so much weight off my shoulders, freeing me from its burden.

I rested my head against the glass, absentmindedly gazing out the window as I headed back to Roman's.

That he wasn't responsible for my parents’ untimely demise didn't mean he wasn't guilty of a whole lot of other crimes. But I didn't embark on this mission because I thought he was a bad man who needed to face justice for all his atrocities. That was Anderson's reason. I, on the other hand, was only after him for revenge—I just wanted to make him suffer for what he'd supposedly done to my family.

The unveiling of this truth had changed a lot of things, and I no longer saw the need to harm Roman or incriminate him anymore. I was no hero, just a hurting girl on a revenge mission.

The mission itself hadn't changed, though; the target had.

Roman hadn’t killed my parents, but the perpetrator was still out there. Ivan Tarasov.

I'd vowed to exert revenge on those who hurt me, and I didn't intend to break that vow—especially now that the real culprits of that inhumane act didn't mean shit to me.

I just needed to shift my attention in the right direction and draw up another plan to take Ivan and his bodyguard down.

Do you think Roman knows that his uncle's actually behind the fall of the Grays? I thought, asking myself.

My brows knitted, mirroring my bewilderment.

Roman and my father had been direct rivals who never saw eye to eye. If Roman had wanted him dead, he'd have done it himself, not asked his uncle to take care of his problems for him. He wasn't a coward, nor was he one to let others do his dirty work. He was always ready to stain his hands if it came down to it.

So, no. I didn't think he was aware.

I didn't care what Ivan's reasons were for ending my parents’ lives, but one thing was certain: I would have my revenge. I would take from them what they took from my mom and dad: their lives. I wasn't sure how I would go about that yet, considering I hadn't even come up with a plan.

But in that moment, filled with rage, I seethed in silence, promising myself that neither of them—Ivan or his bodyguard—would live long enough to see the end of the year.

I heard my phone ring, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was Agent Anderson. Just the man I was about to call. “Hey, uh, I've got news,” I said amidst chuckles, fingers rubbing my eyes.

“None of that matters right now,” he cut me off with a sense of urgency that caused my heart to skip a beat. “Where are you?”

I swallowed, sitting up with the phone clasped to my ear. My eyes widened at the concern laced in his tone. “I'm heading back to Roman's. Why?” I asked, brows furrowing as fear slowly crept into my mind.

“Don't!” he snapped in warning.

I felt a shiver run down my spine as I asked, my heart pounding in my heaving chest, “What?”

“Turn around now!” he exclaimed, voice rising with intensity and accentuating the seriousness in his tone.

My breath hitched in my throat, a hand flying to my forehead as I struggled to stay composed. “Anderson, you're scaring me,” I confessed, my lips trembling at the horror his desperation had inflicted on me.

“You should be scared, Julia,” he blurted out. “He knows.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to process what I'd just heard. “What?” My eyes widened, my feet turning to jelly as I panted.

“Roman knows who you are,” he said lowly. “While you were at the hospital, I trailed him as usual. He stopped at your place, and when he left, he was mad—like really mad.”

As Anderson spoke, a sudden chill enveloped me, causing my body to shudder. A dryness in my throat made it difficult to swallow as my eyes darted wildly as if searching for escape.

No, no, no, this can't be happening. Not now.

My hand settled on my head in a reflexive move as I prayed that this was all just a bad dream—that I would wake up soon.

I pinched my thigh.

It wasn't a dream. This was real

Anderson continued, “I needed to know what got him so upset. So, I went upstairs to your place. Your door was open. When I got in, I saw your family photo crumpled on the floor.”

“Shit,” I muttered, petrified, fingers digging into my temple.

“Yeah. Shit is right,” Anderson said. Almost immediately, he added. “Please, tell me you copied those files.”

I swallowed hard, struggling to catch my breath and overwhelmed with anxiety. “No…” I whispered, too numb to speak.

“Goddamn it, Julia, that was our only shot at taking down that family!”

The disappointment in his tone couldn't be any more glaring.

I'd never been so scared in my life, and my mind was flooded with the possible ways he'd make me suffer. My chest was heaving rapidly. With quivering lips, my eyes misted in fear as I realized he'd soon be coming for me.

Men like Roman weren't exactly known for their forgiveness—especially when betrayed. He must hate me now, and God only knew what plans Roman had cooked up already.

“What…what now?” I stuttered, struggling with the dryness in my throat.

He hesitated for a moment before uttering the words that amplified my fear, sending panic coursing through me.

“Run, Julia…run.”

Chapter 19 – Roman

My blood boiled with rage as I sat back in my chair with Uncle Ivan seated across from me in the visitor's chair. His bodyguard and right-hand man, Jorah, stood by my office's bookshelf, arms folded.

It had been a little over seven months since that manipulating spy slipped through my fingers. Yet, my resentment toward her had never softened, not even for a day.

She was good. I had to give her that. It wasn't every day I met a woman who outsmarted me. She targeted me and got me to feel something for her just so she could get close enough to execute her devious plan.

I'd been beating myself up since the day I realized I was being used by a revenge-seeking, cunning woman who was willing to go the extra mile to see me crumble.

She'd given up her virginity just to get my attention. Her most prized possession, and she gave it to a man she despised. How did she manage that?

That was cold and downright evil. I admired it but hated that I was the victim.

Like a serpent, she’d snaked her way into my stony heart, leaving deadly chills that seeped into my bones, her venom crippling my defenses with time.

Her delicate touch was not so delicate after all; it was sweet and cool but laced with poison—the kind that would gradually kill its victims without them realizing that they were dying.

If I hadn't gone to check on her that day, I wouldn't have found out the truth until it was too late.

Julia was the perfect example of never judging a book by its cover.

She seemed like an angel, appeared harmless, and was always cheerful and friendly with everyone. Her eyes were vibrant and full of life, her soul pure and innocent. But scratch the surface, and a demon lurked within—an intelligent one.

I couldn't manage to wrap my head around how I’d been so carried away by the mystery surrounding her that I lost sight of the danger she posed.

Her charms had been strong; they kept drawing me to her like a fucking moth to a flame. After our first night together, it was as though she'd planted something in me that clouded my judgment.

I’d seen the subtle signs in her words, her reactions to the subject of the Gray family, but for some reason, I ignored them all. I didn't stop to think about how fast I was starting to fall for her.

She must have done her homework on me because she knew the exact kind of woman I was attracted to and disguised herself as one. Smart. Beautiful. Mysterious.

It was still a wonder how she’d orchestrated all of this so perfectly. She awoke something in me—a little flame—only to snuff it out with her betrayal.

Had any of it ever been real?

She’d faked her affection for me, and now I was left to ponder what else she might have faked.

Had she faked her moans, too?

Had she ever even enjoyed sex with me, or was it all just a part of her scheme?

What an Oscar-deserving performance!

I was overwhelmed by a mix of emotions: anger, disappointment, and a glimmer of admiration for how she’d managed to make me a pawn in her game without my knowledge.

It took an extraordinary person to pull that off.

But my admiration could not be compared to the rage that swelled up within me, the resentment that grew in my heart with each passing day.

“The Gray girl is a fierce one. I'll give her that,” Uncle Ivan's voice cut through my thoughts.

Snapping back to the present, my eyes settled back on him, fingers quietly drumming on the table between us.

There was a glint of amazement flickering in his eyes as he continued. “It takes guts to trick a Bratva Pakhan .”

“I know that, Uncle.” My scowl deepened, as did the creases on my forehead. “As impressive as that is, it still doesn't change the fact that she crossed a line.” I gazed at him, eyes blazing with fury. “She fucking used me, Uncle Ivan.”

“Never underestimate the power of revenge, nephew,” he said, his voice low but stern. “People can do the unthinkable in the name of protecting or fighting for something they love.” He paused as if letting the words sink in. “Trust me. I know.”

“She better watch her back,” I said, fingers clenching on a fist, my nails digging into my flesh, “because I will haunt her to the ends of the Earth, and I will not rest until I find her.” My jaw tightened.

Uncle Ivan's lips parted into a faint smirk, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “The girl messed with the wrong family,” he said, adjusting in his chair. “You know what I find funny?”

I jerked my eyes up at his rhetorical question.

He continued, “It’s how she actually blames you for her parents’ death.” He laughed, an arm resting on the handle of his walking stick. “I mean, Anthony Gray was a douchebag—an annoying one, at that. But being as smart as Julia is, she should've known that killing a man simply because he was competition was below the Bratva standard.”

My gaze remained locked to him.

“And killing his wife?” Uncle Ivan's brows arched in disbelief, tongue clicking in disagreement. “The Bratva has strict rules against hurting women and children.” His eyes darted toward the bookshelf. “Isn't that right, Jorah?”

The response was a cold silence.

Jorah was a man of few words, and I'd only heard him speak once.

“But women like her ,” Uncle Ivan continued, a solemn expression gradually settling on his face as he spoke, “women who plot against the Bratva and trick its members—its Pakhan….” His voice seeped with rage, accentuating the resentment in his eyes. “To them, we show no mercy.”

I tightened my fist, brows furrowing as I sought comfort in the horrors I'd inflict on her. I would make her suffer until she begged for death.

He leaned back in his chair. “What's the update on her whereabouts?”

“The men are still looking,” I replied with narrowed eyes, feeling a pang of frustration at how she'd managed to stay hidden for almost seven months.

Who the fuck had trained her to be this good at what she did?

“What about her brother?” he asked.

“Vanished from the hospital the same day she ran,” came my reply.

He went silent for a moment before edging closer, his eyes boring into mine. “For months, the Tarasov Bratva has put a lot of resources into finding her, yet all of our efforts are futile.” He paused, his gaze unwavering. “She's completely off the grid—a ghost that we have no means of tracking down. It's like she doesn't exist.”

I tilted my head, squinting as I flowed with him, getting a hint of what he was driving at.

“Do you know what that means?” he questioned, his voice low and husky, anticipating my response.

I was quiet for some time, gritting my teeth as the realization hit me. “She's not working alone.”

“Exactly.” His lips curled into a smirk, his back sinking into his chair. “Julia Gray is in league with someone powerful enough to hide her from the Bratva.” He let out a dismissive laugh. “The little devil has friends in high places.”

“Enemies of the Bratva,” I hissed, my tone dripping with venom, my heart filled with hatred.

My chest heaved slowly, a streak of rage jolting through my body.

I hated her—I hated that woman with every fiber of my being—and I wouldn't stop until I found her.

I will find you, Julia Gray. And I swear I will make you suffer .

My jaw tightened, mirroring my resentment toward her.

Chapter 20 – Julia

In the shielding comfort of my soft, oversized sweater, I stood by the window, watching the snowflakes dance outside, arms wrapped around myself. The bulk fabric hung over my curves, concealing my swollen belly and adding layers of warmth.

Bigfork, Montana, had been my safe haven, my hiding place, far beyond the reach of Roman and his family.

This was the last place anyone would ever think to look for me. It was all thanks to Agent Anderson for pulling the strings to get me out of Chicago as soon as the mission went south.

I owed him a lot—my life included.

Anderson hadn't hesitated for one second to help out with everything that I needed to get settled in this small cottage house—away from Roman's reach.

I knew he was disappointed in me for not getting the files when I had the chance. I knew he was unhappy that I blew the mission. But he'd never mentioned it, never made me feel like it was my fault the mission failed.

However, deep down, I didn't need anyone to tell me that I’d caused all this. I created this mess, and now, Anderson was the one cleaning it up. Maybe it was because he blamed himself for dragging into this fight, to begin with. I wasn't sure. But one thing that I was sure of was that there was enough blame to go around.

Every day for the past few months, I’d battled with my guilt, and every day, I lost, over and over again.

Everything was going well; the plan was progressing, and I'd just had a big breakthrough—a realization so massive it would've changed my story. Well, it did, just not in the way that I would have wanted it to.

This quest for revenge had put me in a tighter spot than I'd anticipated.

While prepping for this mission, I hadn’t ruled out the possibility of having to be on the run, considering there was a twenty percent chance of failure.

However, I never thought I'd jeopardize the mission by allowing my emotions to get the better of me. Nor did I ever think I'd get pregnant in the process.

This would have all played out differently if I hadn't been so clumsy with my secret. I should never have left my family photo in the open like that.

In my defense, though, everything had happened so fast, with the men from the club and Roman saving me. There was no way I could have known what was about to happen and prevented it.

If those men hadn't shown up at my place, Roman would never have had the chance to drop by unannounced and go through my stuff.

But none of that mattered. The mission had failed, and it was my fault.

I was trained to be perceptive, to anticipate every possible outcome of events beforehand. And for a long time, I did that, but the one time things spiraled out of my control, everything came crumbling down.

Years of training, planning, and strategizing all gone in a flash because of one stupid mistake. Everything we worked so hard to build went down the drain in seconds.

I should have been more careful.

He must hate me now, and that alone pierced my heart each time the thought crossed my mind.

I'd never been so scared of anything or anyone in my life. Roman terrified me—haunting my dreams and making my nights a living hell. A man such as himself, powerful and influential, would never stop until they repaid evil with evil. He wasn't the kind to turn the other cheek, nor was he the kind to forgive and forget.

The idea that he was still out there, using everything in his power to track me down, always sent shivers down my spine.

Although Bigfork had kept me safe for more than seven months now, I couldn't shake the feeling that my days of safety were numbered.

Roman wouldn't give up on finding me. I was certain of that. But for how long was I going to keep running?

It was already difficult having to worry about myself and my brother. And now, in less than a month's time, I'd have to worry about my newborn baby as well.

I heaved a sigh, rubbing a palm over my belly, eyes darting down at it. I couldn't make up my mind to go for an abortion; I couldn't find it in me to deprive this child of a chance at life. That was the best decision I'd made so far, and I couldn't wait to give birth, to finally meet my child.

A smile spread across my face at the thought of how handsome or beautiful it'd look in my arms. With each passing day, my love and affection for the baby in my womb grew sporadically, fueling my anticipation for the big day. I wasn't worried about the pain of childbirth. No. I looked beyond, finding solace and comfort in the joy after labor.

I had enough to lose now, and that shit scared the living daylight out of me.

My shoulders slumped, fingers pinching the bridge of my nose as I fought against the fear of Roman eventually finding us. I had no idea what he'd do to me or Tommy. Honestly, I wasn't afraid for my life—it was my brother's and my child's that were more of a concern to me.

He could drag me down to the pits of hell if he wanted; I couldn't care less. I just couldn't stomach him hurting my loved ones. He'd have to kill me first.

I turned from the window, eyes settling on Tom, who sat engrossed on the couch. He was clad in a sweater I'd woven for him—a new skill I'd learned in these months of isolation and idleness.

His gloved hands moved rapidly, twisting the corners of a Rubik's cube, his brows narrowing with rapt attention.

Tom’s health was so much better these days; he could speak more fluently now, although he still wasn't fully out of his shell yet. He was more introverted, satisfied with his own company, and developed a liking for solving puzzles.

There was nothing I wouldn't do just to see him smile, and most of the time, I'd join him in playing chess, even though he would always destroy me in the end. He was good at it, and so was I, but I'd intentionally let him win so I'd bask in the joy that came with watching him smile.

At the moment, he was my world—the only family I had left—and I was determined to make him happy despite my own brokenness inside.

Tom must have felt my gaze; he jerked his head and caught my eyes, his lips curling up into a smile.

With a warmth spreading across my chest, I glided over to him, my swollen feet cautiously carrying me across the room. “Hey,” I called, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey,” he replied with the same tone, lowering his Rubik's cube to indulge me.

I loved how much he respected and adored me; it always melted my heart. He'd told me a few weeks ago that I was his mom now and that my efforts to keep us safe from the bad men hadn't gone unnoticed.

His words that evening had charged my tear glands, flooding me with more emotions, especially after he slipped into my bosom.

Tom didn't know the full story; he just knew that we were hiding from some very dangerous men.

“Would you like some hot chocolate?” I asked, unable to stop myself from smiling at the handsome young man looking at me.

Tom had Dad's blue eyes, the same nose, and the same smile. It was like looking at a younger version of Anthony Gray.

“You're pregnant, Jules,” he said, rising to his feet and leaving the cube back on the couch. “You shouldn't be worrying too much about me,” he added, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Now, would you like some hot chocolate?”

My expression softened, a smile brightening my face as I nodded, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness.

He mirrored my reaction and slowly stepped away, heading to the kitchen.

I turned around and watched him leave, thinking I couldn't have asked for a better sibling.

I couldn't lose him. I couldn't lose this baby inside me. They both meant the world to me.

The fear of getting found by Roman and the heartbreaking thoughts of the inhumane things he'd do to us crept back into my mind.

Anderson planned to sneak Tom and me out of the country under false identities. According to him, my fake passport was ready, and he was working on my brother's.

The good news was that a week from now, we'd be halfway across the world.

God, I hope this works , I thought, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

In the front passenger seat, my chest heaved slowly, eyes narrowing down the road as Boris accelerated onward, recklessly speeding through the snow-covered streets of Bigfork, Montana.

Behind were more black vehicles—my men following up with the same speed. Our grand arrival prompted the few people lingering here and there to turn their heads at us.

Did she really think that I wouldn't find her anywhere she hid?

It had taken over seven months, but eventually, my men were able to track her down to this small, quiet town in Montana. She'd hidden long enough; it was time she paid for her sins.

Julia had cost me a lot of money just to find her, and now that I finally knew the exact place she was staying, I wasn't leaving here without her.

I hadn't given much thought to what I'd do once I set eyes on her again after all this time, but one thing was certain: She wouldn't slip through my fingers anymore.

My jaw clenched as I sat there in silence, patiently waiting for the time we'd arrive at her place. The further into Bigfork we traveled, the more my anger amplified.

I couldn't wait to see the look of shock and surprise on her face when she set eyes on me. I'd savor that moment—the moment I'd have my pound of flesh.

The sound of roaring engines filled the air, echoing across the landscape and the rocky mountains that surrounded the town. Our vehicles glided over the road that snaked through the settlement with delicate curves and gentle slopes.

Almost at the outskirts of the town, Boris rounded a corner with a sharp, precise swerve, tires screeching against the tar.

A small cottage house came into view, and just in front of it, he brought the car to a swift halt. “We're here,” he announced, his voice low and smooth.

My scowl deepened as my eyes flew across the building up ahead. The car door gave a soft click as I opened it and stepped out, my feet stomping on the snow.

The other vehicles arrived, their tires screeching to a stop outside the building while I made my way to the entrance, balling both hands into fists.

With all that rage surging through me like jolts of electricity, I lifted a leg in the air, and seconds later, I kicked against the wooden front door. The impact was so strong that it knocked the door from the hinges, revealing the cozy interior.

The wind whispered into the house, carrying particles of snowflakes, its faint whistle filling the air.

“Tommy, get behind me!” Julia yelled, quickly grabbing a shotgun from the wall.

The boy ran to seek shelter at her back as she pointed her weapon at the entrance, ready to pull the trigger.

Impressive.

But pathetic.

“Stay back!” Her hand moved deftly, cocking the gun in place, the sound echoing across the room.

I watched the fire in her eyes dull, draining the courage from their depths the moment she realized who was by the door. Her breath caught in her throat, her chest swelling in fear as her hands trembled on the gun.

My shoes clicked against the wooden floor as I waltzed inside with menacing steps, savoring the terror in her gaze.

She stood frozen in shock, barely able to maintain her grip on the shotgun.

“There you are,” I whispered, my tone laced with hatred and fury, my blazing eyes narrowing at her. “I've waited a long time to see that look on your face.”

Boris and a couple of my men walked in, surrounding the living room, while the others guarded the vehicles outside.

“Drop the gun, Julia,” I said, my intense gaze never leaving her terrified face.

Without a moment of hesitation, she let the weapon fall from her hold, her protective arms flying behind her back, shielding her brother from us.

Their matching oversized sweaters and woolen hats—a testament to their connection—struck me with the perfect idea to begin her torture.

My brows furrowed as I watched her stand like a human shield, hands wide apart, protecting her little brother like a mother hen.

Excellent.

“Get the boy,” I ordered, basking in her reaction.

“What? No! No, no, no…!” The words burst out of her mouth in a nervous rush, her eyes widening in fear.

Boris stepped forward and grabbed the boy by the arm against her futile struggles.

“No, let him go! Let him go, please—he has nothing to do with this!” She launched what seemed like an attempted attack, her hands fists bouncing off Boris's rigid form.

The boy wept, his body shuddering as he was being held down to the ground, Boris pointing a gun at his head.

Julia dropped to her knees, eyes misting as her palms closed in together in a pleading gesture. “Please…don't hurt him. He didn't do anything.” She held my gaze, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I'm begging you, Roman,” she said amidst sobs. “I'm the one you want, and you can do whatever you want to me. Just please…let my brother go. He has nothing to do with this. Please, Roman. Take me instead.” Her voice broke as she spoke, pleading with her teary eyes.

As monstrous as she thought I was, I'd never kill a kid, but she didn't know that, and I was going to keep it that way. Putting the idea in her head that I could take his life at any time was just the beginning of her torment.

“On your feet.” I tightened my jaw, unfazed by her emotional breakdown.

Something was different about her, but I couldn't figure out what—I was too angry to think about that. But she did look bigger, or maybe it was just the bulky fabric that hung loosely over her form.

She got up, sniffling, her eyes tinged red from crying.

Quietly, I stepped forward, gritting my teeth in an attempt to control my anger. She retracted, shrinking in absolute fear the closer I drew toward her. Her throat wobbled as she swallowed hard, terror flickering in her gaze.

“Not so brave now, are you?” I questioned, casting a glare at her.

She hit her back against the wall, her lips quivering as I halted in front of her, my gaze still lingering, feeding my eyes with the horror in hers.

“You targeted me because you wanted my attention,” I began, my voice thick and threatening. “Now, you have it. You have my full attention, Julia Gray.”

Tears wouldn't stop flowing as she shook her head, muttering silent words I assumed were pleas.

“Who're you working for?” I asked, “Who sent you?”

She swallowed, her eyes boring into mine as if searching for something, but the only thing in their depths was fury. “No one,” she said.

My rage was amplified by her lie, causing my forehead to crease. “Don't bullshit me, Julia!” I thundered, almost losing my cool, my hand slamming against the wall behind her.

She flinched reflexively, shutting her eyes momentarily. “I swear I'm not working for anyone.”

I frowned, stealing a glance at her whimpering brother. “Boris,” I called, my tone hinting at an instruction.

Boris got the message and cocked his pistol, the barrel still pointed at the boy's head.

“No, no, no!” she shrieked, hands flying up in surrender. “Okay, okay…I'm not working for anyone—but I'm working with someone,” she confessed, her eyes focused on her brother, who was shaking on the ground. “Please, don't hurt him.”

“Who are you working with?” I rephrased.

She returned her gaze to me. “An FBI agent who's spent years looking for a way to bring you and your family to justice.” She paused, panting with a heaving chest. “I swear, the only reason I was in on the plan was because I thought you killed my parents—you'd do the same if you were in my shoes; you'd want revenge, too.” She wept, drying her tears with intermittent sniffles.

She was trying to toil with my emotions, to get me to sympathize with her—to see things from her perspective. Despite my anger, I knew deep down that she had a point, but her betrayal was all that rang in my head.

“I didn't kill your parents, Julia,” I said through gritted teeth, my heart burning with hurt. “Anthony and I had our differences, but I didn't have any reason to kill him, let alone his wife….” I felt a flicker of disappointment at how lowly she thought of me.

In spite of our ruthlessness, the Bratva had rules; we weren't mindless animals who did things without considering the consequences. We killed only when necessary, and that wasn't the case with her family.

“I know.” She nodded, her voice soft and barely above a whisper.

My brows knitted together, accentuating the puzzled expression on my face. What was she talking about? What did she mean?

“The day I found out that it wasn't you was the same day you found out who I truly was.” She fixed her gaze on me. “So…I ran.”

“If I didn't do it, then who did?” I asked, my eyes narrowing to highlight my piqued curiosity.

Her breath hitched in her throat, and her eyes widened at my question. I could almost hear the sound of her heart pounding in her chest. It was like she was afraid to say the name of the one responsible for her parents’ death. Her lips twitched at the corners but produced no words.

“Answer me!” I thundered impatiently.

“Your Uncle Ivan!” She raised her voice, blurting out the words that struck me like lightning.

For a second, I stood frozen in shock at this insane revelation. My pulse quickened, and I could feel the deep creasing lining of my forehead. My lips pressed into a thin line, and my shoulders tensed as my chest expanded in anger.

“How dare you?” My hand flew to her face, fingers digging into her jaw as I glared at her, feeling the adrenaline pumping through me.

She panted, holding her breath as tears trickled down her cheeks. Her nostrils flared at the pain I was inflicting on her jaw. She knew it was futile to try and resist—my grip was too tight.

I edged closer so she could see the rage flickering in my eyes. “You dare accuse my uncle? You must have a death wish.”

She slowly shook her head, her tears flowing like a river. “I'm accusing him. It was your uncle…I swear.” Her voice was barely audible as my grip against her jaw restricted her ability to speak.

It wasn't until I leaned forward that I felt her protruding stomach, prompting me to pause for a moment. My eyes darted down to her belly and then returned to her face, but now, she wouldn't look me in the eyes.

Julia did her best to avoid my gaze.

What mystery did she have going on this time?

My brows narrowed, and a gasp came forth as I let go of her, taking a single step back. Her body was tensing, her breathing growing heavier by the second as she rubbed her jaw in a massaging motion. Her head was bowed, and her shoulders were slumped.

She was nervous.

I dropped my eyes to her belly and swiftly tugged up the hem of her bogus sweater.

That instant, my brows arched in surprise. “You're pregnant?” The words jumped out of my mouth as I returned my gaze to her bowed face.

Julia still avoided my eyes, and she wouldn't lift her head.

“Look at me, goddamn it!” I jerked her chin, forcibly staring at her.

She was weeping with quivering lips; her entire body was shuddering as she stared back at me, stunned, immobile.

My heart was racing. One hand balled into a fist as a myriad of thoughts overlapped in my mind.

Has she been with someone else while on the run from me?

Jealousy crept in, fueling my rage.

My chest heaved heavily, veins bulging. “Who is he?” I asked through gritted teeth. “Who's the father?”

With that kind of rage swelling in me, if I saw him in the house, I'd use her shotgun to rip a hole right through him.

“You are,” she declared, looking deep into my eyes. “You're the father, Roman. You.”

Her words hit me like a live grenade and sent me stumbling on my feet—speechless. Literally.

“Don't believe her, Boss. She could be lying again,” Boris said, his tone dripping with disbelief.

“I'm not,” she replied without taking her eyes off me, like she wanted me to see the truth in their depths.

I didn't expect this revelation, and I’d yet to wrap my head around it. But we'd find out soon enough whether or not she was lying.

Then, I'd figure out what to do with her.