Page 63 of Killer Love

“No,” Yuri answers. “He told me today.”

“For three years, you’ve kept this from them, Luka? For three years, Gio has raised a child that’s not his own?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t know he was mine until yesterday.”

His face turns a bright red. “You slept with another man’s wife!”

“She wasn’t…” I pause, struggling to keep calm. “Sofia was unhappy. She didn’t want to marry him, but she didn’t have a choice. They never gave her a choice.”

“And you thought this would change that?”

“No. But she asked me… she wanted a baby. One that wasn’t Gio’s. It was the only way she could think of to… I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Not only did you deceive our friend…” he says, “you did so on purpose?”

“Giovani Zappia is not our friend,” I say. “He planned to take us down.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He ordered the hit on Hans Petrovin and made it look like me to spark a mob war in Russia.”

He scoffs. “That is bullshit, Luka.”

“He tried to have me killed when he found out about Lucian. I couldn’t leave Sofia behind to suffer the same.”

“I don’t blame him after what you kept from him. From all of us!”

“You’re really going to convict me for keeping secrets, Pops?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I glance at Fox and look back at my father. “Why didn’t you tell us about Snake Eyes?”

He closes his mouth, silently fuming. Finally, he shifts and his ire lands on Fox and his black tactical gear. “I suppose that’s who you are, then?”

“Yes, sir,” Fox says.

My father nods and turns around.

“You knew this whole time,” I say. “You knew who they were and what they did, and you just let them do whatever they wanted in your city.”

“Of course, I did.” He sighs. “I protected my family. That’s what a father does.”

“Oh, I know.”

He shakes his head and points a stiff finger at me. “Don’t get smart with me, Luka. You’ve known your child for one day. Do not pretend that makes you a father. You have no idea what being a father really is!”

“I know what it’s not,” I say. “It’s not bowing down like a coward to the damn Zappias while they march through Moscow.”

He squints at me. “A coward?”

“It’s not bending over to those who have shed Lutrova blood.”

Yuri steps forward. “Luka, stop—”

“You think you can do better?” my father asks me.

“Yes.”

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