Page 60 of Secret Bratva Twins

“Ryan! Daylan... Let them go!”

“Mommy, don’t let them take us. Mommy!”

My shoulders trembled, and I covered my face with cupped hands. But nothing could stop the streams from pouring down my cheeks. Not even when Maxim scooped me in his arms and allowed me to soak his shirt with all my tears. I sniffled, sobbed, and choked. I didn’t know what hurt more, knowing that my babies had been taken away from me and hauled to only God knew where or knowing that I’d caused this.

I tried everything I could, everything he’d taught me, but it was all futile. Nothing worked. They broke down the door, stole the boys, and delivered a blow so hard I thought my head would roll off.

“It’s all my fault.” I rocked back and forth against his chest. “I did this. It’s all my fault.”

Guilt pricked me, squeezed my insides, and stabbed me so deep I didn’t feel Max’s body heat leave mine. He shook my shoulders, and I raised my shimmering lashes to his face. Displeasure marked his features. His gaze was hard, and his lips were pulled in a grim line.

“Stop saying that.”

My eyes narrowed. Did he honestly think that I’d take the bait to leave the guilt aside? No way, and definitely not now, after I witnessed my children being taken away from me.

“Stop?” I hopped off the bed. I can’t stop saying that, Max. This is all—” My voice faltered, and my throat constricted. The tears worked their way up again. “I caused this, Max. You warned me. If I had just listened and agreed to stay at home, none of this would have happened.”

With a vise-like grip on my arm, he yanked me closer, warning me with his eyes. “Stop. Saying. It’s. Your. Fault.” The coals in his eyes died as quickly as they came, and his hand loosened on my arm. “Gia, there’s nothing wrong with wanting a fucking life like any normal person would. The only person to blame here is your fucking father. He caused this. Not you.”

I couldn't take the pressure in my chest any longer, so I let out the dam that had been waiting to burst through my eyes. His shoulders sagged, and I hadn’t noticed it before, but there were bags underneath his eyes.

He’d always been so strong, always looked so strong, that I hadn’t noticed he looked as exhausted as I felt. At that moment, his comfort meant more to me than words could ever express. There I was, selfishly thinking I was the only one hurt by all my father’s games when standing right in front of me; there was someone else being bruised and torn, too.

Ryan and Daylan weren’t only mine; they were his too. Feeling worse, I cried harder and fought the urge to repeat the “it’s all my fault” mantra over again.

He sighed, opening his arms. “Come here.”

I collapsed on him again, breathing faster and wiping my nose on his shirt when he stroked my back. But our small intimate moment was short-lived when hushed sighs disturbed us from the door. I jerked my head up from Maxim’s chest.

Lillianna, Mariana, and Giselle stood teary-eyed, silently seeking permission to come in.

“I need to see my brothers downstairs. If you need me or anything else, I’m only one call away,” he said to me. Then, he kissed me. It was short but sweet and conveyed more words than either of us could say.

Before he pulled away, I breathed, “I’ll always need you.”

The ghost of a smile flickered past his mouth and I watched his back as he disappeared past the ladies and out of the door.

They didn’t give any breathing space before flinging themselves, one after the other, offering bear hugs and mumbling reassurances that the men wouldn’t stop until Ryan and Daylan were found. I didn’t need them to tell me. Maxim’s eyes told me all I needed to know.

If he had to, he would die trying.

After a brief shower, I grabbed one of Maxim’s shirts and some shorts and headed downstairs with my damp hair dancing below my shoulders. Instead of the usual strong smell of coffee I had slowly grown used to, the scent of strong Vodka took its place, filling the air the closer I got to the office.

I knew I had no business going in there. But after the quick shower, the water cleared my head, and something other than pain and heartache enveloped me: determination. I wasn’t comfortable waiting around for the men to come up with a plan.

Who said I couldn’t help?

I strutted into the room where Maxim and his brothers talked in low Russian, and they stopped at the sight of me. Sergey looked at me, and before he blinked, I thought I caught a glint of concern in his eyes. Nikolai didn’t bother hiding the warmth in his gaze, and neither did Vincent.

But Maxim’s eyes held reservation. He didn’t want me here; he thought he was protecting me. Before he moved from his seat, I sensed what he wanted to do.

I lifted an arm. “Max—”

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

A tiny flame of annoyance flickered in my chest. “Really? So, where should I be? Outside, in the bedroom, fighting the memories of them being dragged away while you guys do all the work?”

“Gianna...”

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