NATASHA

My family's flagship casino looms large over this part of Banta City. The flashing gold sign fills me with dread. I look at my sleeping babies and order my heart to stop racing. I need to be strong for them.

The SUV pulls into a side underground garage and parks near a secure entrance. Once the vehicle door opens, Leon leans inside to look me over.

The youngest and only blond son of Viktor and Katja Kovak stares at me in the darkened SUV. I can imagine his sharp blue eyes dripping of disappointment. He looks so much like our mother, even more than my sister and me.

"What is this?" he asks, gesturing at the sleeping children.

"They're mine."

"We'll see," Leon replies dismissively and backs up so I can climb around Jacinda's seat and out of the SUV.

"I'm not leaving them."

I try to sound strong. Leon isn't a stranger. He was a tiny boy when I was born. We grew up together. He's my brother, not a monster.

Yet, his expression is Kovak-cold. Like our father, he reveals nothing of himself unless a price is paid.

"What happens now?" I ask, tears biting my eyes as I look up at my brother and beg him to help me.

Leon's hard expression cracks ever so slightly. His hesitancy in the face of my pain is almost undetectable. However, under his cold exterior lies the heart of the boy who played pirates with me during the long summer months of our childhood.

Inhaling sharply, Leon hides himself again. "They will remain here as I supervise the situation."

"What if my babies wake up and cry?"

"I will request a woman employee to comfort them."

I consider complaining. Leon's gaze zooms in on my lips twitching with the intent to set him straight.

"Thank you," I say instead.

Leon's hard expression cracks again. I feel him struggling to convey the same cruel demeanor as our father and older brothers. I have no doubt he's a hundred percent committed to being the most intimidating asshole when faced with a threat to our family or empire. Yet, for his baby sister, he can't quite hold the line.

Leaving my babies with Leon, I follow an emotionless guard inside the elevator. Most of the men I've encountered tonight are my brothers' ages. The new guard is slowly sinking its claws into Banta City. I'm uncertain what that means for me. Would my father be more forgiving than the cold-eyed bastard waiting for me in the top office?

Roman looks majestic in his black slacks, white designer top, and shiny shoes. He radiates wealth and power. Only his wavy, brown hair betrays his flawless mannequin look. He inherited his untamable locks from our grandmother—a cold woman who married off her twelve children with the same disregard as tossing away a used napkin.

My gaze washes over the large office. The view is gorgeous as Banta City sparkles below us.

I remember visiting this office years ago when I was a clueless teenager, thinking my dad was a smart businessman. I assumed that's why we moved into the Thibeaux Mansion, and Viktor was rewarded with this amazing view. I refused to see the truth until I was nearly eighteen and caught him beating a man to death on our back lawn.

Viktor Kovak isn't an old man, yet he's stepped back from the top spot. Now, Roman runs things, and he stares at me like I'm a disappointing employee about to get the ax.

Lifting my fake ID, he glances at it before leveling his blue-eyed gaze at me. "Natalie Simpson is dead," he says rather than hello. "She died in the same fire as Andrew Grover and his two children."

"Roman—"

He cuts me off with a flip of the hand. I go silent just like I would when my father insisted on silence at home. I feel my body fold into itself, wanting to disappear.

My dry lips burn when I lick them. The pain awakens me to how I beat a man half to death tonight. I gave up my "proud pacifist" patch for the same reason I find my voice.

"What about my children?"

Roman tosses my ID on his shiny black desk and crosses his arms. "They're not really yours, now, are they?"

"I've raised them. They call me ‘mommy.'"

Roman's lips tug into a snakelike smile as he rejoices over holding leverage over me.

"You made the family look weak when you bailed on your marriage pledge," he says and watches me with unreadable eyes.

Though I consider apologizing, we'd both know I was lying.

"No more running," Roman says and unclenches his arms. My brother walks like a smug panther coming upon a wounded prey. "You will live at the house with those children. If you attempt to flee, we'll steal them away from you until you return. Eventually, we might choose to keep them hidden away for good."

"I just have to stay home with our parents?" I ask, trying to convince myself I'm not currently a thing ground up underneath my brother's shiny shoe.

"Until we can find a fool willing to marry you."

My thoughts return to Bear O'Malley. I'd been surprised when he offered to be my husband. None of the Kovak family has ever married out of love. Matrimony is a duty saved for furthering the family's fortune.

My gaze flashes to Roman's hands. He wears no wedding ring. I noticed Leon remains single. Though I don't know about the family's middle son Maks, my only sister was married off years ago to a vulgar crime family outside of Cincinnati.

Beautiful and bossy Petra did her duty without complaining. Unlike her unimpressive husband, Bear O'Malley was ruggedly handsome, wonderful in bed, and made me smile.

Best-case scenario, Bear and I would fall desperately in love. Worst case, I'd endure a boring marriage while living in Banta City with my friends. The arrangement seemed perfect.

Until my childhood friend Ollie ended up dead when Bear mistook him for his criminal brother. With my heart broken, I did what I never did and disobeyed my family.

All those years spent around the willful and wild O'Malley sisters—Siobhan and Carys—had likely rubbed off on me. After rounding up my fake ID, cash, and a bag of summer clothes, I headed for Key West.

Two hours into my escape, a torrential rainstorm forced me to exit the highway. I found a quiet bar, where I planned to ride out the bad weather. I've always suspected Andrew roofied my drink. I have no memory of meeting him or going to his house.

Before I could call a rideshare the next morning, my broken heart fell in love with two smiling babies abandoned by the people in their life. Unable to save Ollie, I had found my new purpose.

After Roman dismisses me, I return to the SUV to find Jacinda awake and staring at Leon. She smiles at the sight of me. Climbing in the back seat, I whisper how we're going to my old house.

The Thibeaux Mansion hasn't belonged to anyone with that name in a hundred years. Various power players have called it home. The massive house on pristine land is prime real estate in Banta City. The last three men to live there also ran the city's crime syndicate.

In the front passenger seat, Leon texts on his phone as we arrive at the manned security gates. I peel my gaze from the sight of the mansion lit up ahead and focus on Jacinda next to me.

She's such a beautiful, happy child. Jacinda and Hector charmed me immediately with their silly energy. I never want them to lose that spark, but expectations at Thibeaux Mansion can be oppressive.

As soon as the SUV parks on the circular driveway, the estate staff appears to help me with the children. Jacinda grips her Abby Cadabby doll and says hello to each person. Hector finally wakes up and hollers at the sight of so many people. Once he notices his sister talking, he wants to meet everyone.

"Big," Hector says as we step into the three-story-high foyer.

The staff files past us, taking bags up the dual staircases to the living quarters.

I remember how much I adored my room when we first moved here. I thought I was a princess, and this was my castle. I quickly learned how every prize comes with a cost.

The clicking of my mother's heels alerts me to her approach before the staff creates an opening to allow Katja to own the room. My mother is a beautiful woman, even as she reaches her sixties. Her shiny, fair blond hair has gone gracefully gray in places. Her makeup is impeccable as always. She wears black slacks and a cream cashmere top.

Her pale blue eyes hold no warmth at the sight of me. Tapping her right heel, she alerts the staff to vacate the space. They disappear like a flock of startled birds. Next to me, Leon seems stuck in robot mode. I see no humanity in him.

"Did you think your tatínek wasn't aware you were shacked up in that dingy house with its shit-colored siding?" Katja says in a voice laced with her native Czechian accent. "Viktor allowed you to remain in that life out of pity. Next time, he won't show such mercy, no matter how much I beg."

"I understand."

My mother's stern expression warms. "Then, let's get you settled in for the night. A doctor is waiting to check you and the children. The kitchen is ready to feed you. The staff has set up two child-sized beds inside your room. They can be moved to another location when your future is clearer."

"Thank you."

Rather than offer a hug, Katja turns away and leaves me in care of the staff. I'm soon standing in my old room. Everyone leaves except for a single woman.

"I am the night nanny," she tells me in an accent so thick, I'd understand her better if she spoke Czech.

I don't ask why my parents need a nanny. Siobhan hinted Petra was back in Banta City. Is my sister at the mansion now?

Once the nanny leaves, I look around and exhale deeply. Dropping to the ground, I hug my babies to me.

"Boo-boos," Hector tells me as his fingers brush across my battered eye before touching his sister's bruised throat. "Dad hurt me."

"Yes, but we're safe now."

Jacinda looks around the room and licks her lips burned from Andrew's rage. She shows Abby Cadabby how there are three beds.

"This was Mommy's room when she was young. See, the pictures?" I ask and point toward a tackboard covered with photos. "The lady downstairs is my mommy. This was my house."

Hector is quicker to explore. He sees his things from the suitcase set out around his bed. Jacinda sits on my leg and stares at me.

"Dad hurt us," I tell her. "Dad's gone now. We're going to stay here. No more boo-boos."

Jacinda hugs me and mumbles about her sore jaw. I kiss her lips and then her throat. She then kisses my eye and lip. Hector thinks he's missing out and runs to us. We take turns kissing each other's boo-boos, even the ones from the day at the park.

Rather than resting, we're soon visited by the estate manager followed by the doctor. The night feels chaotic. Soup is ordered from the kitchen. Medicine is given to the kids. I skip pain pills to keep my mind sharp, but I still reel from all the activity around me.

I'm relieved once we're alone again. Yet, once I start to relax, there's another knock at the door.

In the hallway stands my older sister. Her thick, blonde hair is tied up in a messy bun. Petra's wearing a terribly extravagant rose-covered bathrobe like a vixen out of an old mobster movie. Her blue-eyed gaze is focused down the hallway when the estate manager returns with the soup. Suddenly, she notices me peeking out at her.

Petra's warm smile breaks me. My tears rush forward as she hurries inside and gestures for the estate manager to leave the food.

Wrapping me in her arms, Petra shushes my panicked mumbling. I'm not even sure what I'm trying to say. I just know today won't end.

Petra takes control. She tugs me to the bed and introduces herself to my babies.

"I'm your aunt," she explains and blows on the soup before feeding them. "I won't keep you long. We'll just get a little food in your tiny tummies. Then, we'll get you tucked in bed. Tomorrow, you can meet my son, Laszlo. He will absolutely adore making new friends."

Jacinda and Hector stare enchanted at her smiling face. I try to make sense of Petra being home.

"Are Vica and Shari here?" I ask of her ten- and nine-year-old daughters.

Petra shakes her head. "Brandon forced me to leave, but he insisted the girls remain with him."

"When did this happen?"

My sister shakes her head again and asks, "Do you need a shower? We can discuss my drama another time."

"Do I look awful?"

"Hideous. I barely recognized you," she teases. "Maybe you can shower while I get to know your sweet babies. Aren't you two just adorable?"

I hug my sister and thank her for helping me. She doesn't scold me for running off or drill me with questions. Petra just takes over so I can clean up and get my thoughts sorted.

Despite the reprieve, I can't relax. When the world falls silent, I think of the dumbbell in my hand or the kids screaming as Andrew dragged them away from me. My mind even rewinds to thoughts of Bear O'Malley and poor, sweet Ollie.

Exiting the bathroom, I hug my sister who insists on tucking me in bed in between the kids who are afraid to sleep in their own beds tonight. I don't want Petra to leave. She feels like a life preserver keeping me above water. Yet, her young son is waiting for her, and the hour is late.

Soon, the room is dark except for "The Muppets Show" playing on my old TV. The kids crash quickly from the medication, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

After hours of restlessness, I can't deny skipping the soup was a mistake. Wiggling myself free from the bed, I turn on the bathroom light and leave the door mostly shut. If the kids wake, they'll assume I'm on the toilet and be less likely to panic.

Out in the hallway, I find the lights dimmed. Downstairs, an armed man stands watch in the foyer. I move soundlessly past him, feeling scolded by his lack of reaction.

The modern French-style kitchen is illuminated by large, west-facing windows. I'm halfway through the expansive kitchen when I realize I'm not alone. Freezing in my spot, I stare in horror as the man opens the fridge before turning to me.

My father is never startled. If he ever seems weak, it's simply a ruse to trick an enemy.

With me, he offers a hint of a smile. Viktor turns back to the fridge, removing ingredients for a sandwich.

"You should have eaten the soup," he says as I sink deeper into my spot. "Come help me eat this sandwich."

Viktor sets two slices of sourdough on a plate and warms another plate filled with brisket.

I don't dare mention how I prefer to avoid meat. My family's never cared for my bleeding-heart beliefs.

I inch closer, afraid of more than his disappointment. Viktor hands me half of his sandwich. The thick brisket melts like butter in my mouth.

"Forgive your mother's distance," he says in his deceptively soft voice. "You broke her heart when you ran off and never called."

"I thought I escaped and calling would help you find me."

Viktor smiles and murmurs, "You always were a dreamer."

Swallowing hard, I don't know what to tell my father as his icy blue eyes pick me apart.

"Do you want my advice?" he asks, and I nod immediately.

Viktor leisurely eats his sandwich before wiping his mouth and admiring me.

"You should rest. Take advantage of the nannies. Heal from your injuries. Catch up with your sister and friends. Think of yourself as being on vacation."

I force myself to keep eating the sandwich despite my stomach rebelling out of stress. Holding Viktor's gaze, I nod.

"When this," he says and gestures at my bruised face, "has healed, things might be different. Leaving like you did was very embarrassing for the family. Your return will draw attention to our failure. The situation you face will likely no longer feel like a vacation. Do you understand?"

Nodding, I force down my last bite and swallow hard to keep my stomach from upchucking. Viktor hands me a napkin and pours sparking water for me.

His every gesture feels like a nail in my coffin. I don't know how I avoid crying and begging. I saw a man far more powerful than me break down and plead for his life when faced with Viktor's anger.

However, I keep my mouth shut and obey. Whatever the cost, I can't break. Two little people need me to be strong, even if that means acting weak.

"Thank you," I say after I've finished the offered drink.

Viktor watches me the entire time like a predator toying with its prey. He finally brushes his fingers across my bruised cheek.

"No one hides from death, Natasha," he says in his native tongue. "Some are lucky enough to live to ninety like your great-aunt Viv. Others barely take a breath like your brother Michal."

I recall my mother's reaction to my youngest brother's death. She barely showed any reaction in front of us kids. I almost thought she didn't care. Except I heard her once, in her room, hiding from the world, sobbing as if her heart had been ripped out.

I can't be that strong. I'll never be able to hide my pain like she does. Even now, my eyes burn with stubborn tears.

"The father of those children," Viktor continues, "was always going to die. Even if you never met him, his life would have ended. You only changed the time and reason. But you took nothing from him, not already owed to the universe. Choose to shed no tears over breaking your pacifist oath."

My father smiles at my scowling face. He taps my nose and wraps an arm around me to offer a quick side hug.

"You always were stubborn," Viktor says, taking the plate and glass to the sink. "Your great-aunt Viv is, too. Possibly, that's why she's still alive."

Viktor gestures for me to follow him. "Of course, your great-aunt married the man chosen for her and never embarrassed her family. That also might be why she lived so long."

"I'm sorry," I say as we reach the foyer.

"Are you truly?" he asks, staring into my eyes and stealing my ability to lie.

"No."

Smirking appreciatively at my honesty, Viktor nods. "No more running, Natasha. Do you understand?"

"Yes.

"Truly?"

"Yes."

Viktor strokes the back of my head and gestures for me to go upstairs. I hurry away from him and toward my babies. I find them still snuggled in bed. Hector stirs when I climb in between them.

"Mommy," he whispers before returning to sleep.

As I try to relax, I think back to something Bear O'Malley once asked me.

"What's the point of being a pacifist in a violent world?"

I hadn't answered him, assuming he was mocking me. I understood why he was a violent man. His life wasn't easy before he found the O'Malley family and the Backcountry Kings Motorcycle Club. The man had seen the world's ugliness in very stark terms.

Nonviolence was another word for weakness in his mind. I didn't think his brutal world view made him a bad man. I even hoped Bear was hiding bleeding-heart sentimentalities under his growling, rough exterior.

Except his brutal worldview made violence simple. When something becomes too easy, a person forgets to be careful. That's why sweet Ollie is dead.

After sentencing Andrew to the boneyard, I can no longer really claim to be a pacifist. Taking a beating is far easier than watching someone I love suffer. However, I won't deny I like knowing I protected my babies, even if it meant using violence.