Page 54 of Secret Bratva Twins

Gianna chuckled. “Your daddy.” She looked at me and the boys followed her gaze.

God, they looked so much like me. I reached out and hauled them closer, noting the smallest details on their faces. They looked so much like me and my brothers when we were young. “Hey, little guys. It’s nice to meet you.”

The one in the red shirt narrowed his eyes. “You’re our daddy?”

I nodded. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been a part of your lives until now.” I’d missed Gianna’s pregnancy, their birth, their first five birthdays. I’d missed way too much and I was going to make things right. “I’ll take care of you two from now on. I’ll take care of your mommy too.”

The one in the blue shirt asked, “Does that mean we’ll live with you now?”

“Yes. We’ll live here together. In this house.” I squeezed their hands softly. “You’ll never lack anything.”

They both peered around and muttered, “Wow.”

“Daylan,” the one in red called to his brother. “This looks like a palace.”

Okay, so the one in red was Ryan. His jaw was slightly sharper than Daylan’s.

“It’s even bigger than Grandpa’s,” Dylan replied.

They both shouted, “Yeah!” And then they hugged me. I’d never cried, but I the tears were falling from my eyes now.

Vlad snorted from his chair. He and Marianna were looking at me like I’d grown a pair of horns. “You really crying, bro?”

Giselle slapped his shoulder. “Shut up and allow the man to have his moment.”

I couldn’t remember how long exactly I’d held them, but I only pulled away when they did and ran off to continue playing with my cousins.

Sergey stood up and squeezed my shoulder.

I got to my feet, embarrassed from crying and strode to the kitchen. Ms. Popov was making something, cupcakes, I guessed from the smell.

She turned around to face me. “Those boys are so full of energy and love. They got along so well with everybody.” She walked to the kitchen island, leaned on it and grinned. “They’re really your kids.”

I sniffled. “So, will you help raise them like you raised me?”

She rolled her eyes. “This house was boring with just you anyway. Now it finally feels like a home.”

***

High-pitched squeals came through the window, and short spurts of laughter drew my attention. I rubbed the towel harshly on my hair and tossed it back on the rack before drawing closer to the clear glass window, which provided the perfect three-sixty view of the backyard orchard.

A flash of orange and denim pulled my gaze, and I settled against the pane with a satisfied, lopsided grin when I spotted Gianna with the kids playing by a tree. The kids were dressed in similar white shirts and denim shorts, and she wore a skimpy orange sundress that made my blood boil at the sight of it.

“Mommy, see...” came Daylan’s voice, floating with the wind. He pointed at a white butterfly, and Gianna stood on the grass to help him catch it. They ran around in circles, her leading the troop, with Ryan at the end of the line.

After successfully losing focus, she didn’t catch the white butterfly. She whispered something in Daylan’s ear, and he giggled until he toppled over. The sight of his happiness made a chuckle rise bubble in my chest.

Knowing her, she gave the little boy a made-up story about her failed attempt at catching the butterfly.

Watching them brought warmth to my chest and spurred a fierceness to protect them. The mere thought of a bullet getting to any of them caused a breath-snatching squeeze in my chest. It was a thousand times worse than the pangs of the stupid headache that hit me earlier.

Now, all I felt was a deep, uncomfortable ache and void that could be filled with the satisfaction of putting the Outfit under the dirt, right where they belonged.

Fuck rest.

I couldn’t take any more of that, knowing the darkness was still lurking out there despite the bright rays of the sun hitting Gianna and the boys in all the right directions. The sun's rays animated them like something out of a picture book, making them seemingly unreal and not at all like they belonged to me or the world we currently lived in.

Gianna lifted one of the boys on her shoulder, and they glided through the air like airplanes. I gazed with pride. She was, without a doubt, the best mother ever. The care and attention she showered them were over and beyond what I had ever experienced at their age. As I watched them, I realized something else—a desire I hadn’t paid much attention to until now.

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