Page 75 of Twisted Princess

“Gone?” Silvia closes the distance between us to softly comb Gabby’s black curls away from her cheek. “Gone where?”

Digging into my back pocket with my free hand, I pull out her letter and pass it to Pyotr.

He unfolds it, reading Mel’s neat cursive several times before he looks back up at me. “Sil, will you take Gabby to Isla’s room? She can sleep in the spare bed tonight.”

Silvia’s hazel eyes widen, concern flashing across her delicate features. “Of course,” she murmurs.

And carefully, we transfer Gabby from my arms to hers without waking the little girl.

“I think Vinny’s men took her back to Boston,” I state, following Pyotr into the drawing room as soon as Silvia’s out of sight. “I left Lev and Denka to watch out for her for a few hours, and when I came back, they were dead. Killed, more like it. Brutally. And this is what Mel left me.” I point to the letter in Pyotr’s hand.

He scans the paper again, his gray eyes flashing silver in the dim lighting. “You think she’s trying to send you a message?” he suggests.

I nod. “The first part is just like what she said when she ran to Boston three years ago,” I reason.

“What’s the meaning behind telling you you’re Gabby’s father? Is it true?”

I shake my head. “That’s the part I can’t figure out. I don’t think Gabby’s old enough to be mine—even if Mel did get pregnant the one time we were together before she left. Besides, I’m fairly confident Mel doesn’t know who the father is. If she did, she would have told me from the get-go. Right? So, why claim I’m the father now?” I comb my fingers into my hair, releasing a heavy breath as I try to riddle it out. “Does she think I wouldn’t take care of Gabby if I weren’t legally obligated?”

Pyotr shakes his head, and he frowns down at the paper once more. “I doubt that. She knows you. Maybe it’s Mel’s way of saying she really doesn’t want you to come save her.”

“She wouldn’t willingly give up Gabby,” I argue. “That’s why she asked me to come down to Boston and get them in the first place. And that last part is bullshit,” I insist, leaning in to point at the part where Mel calls motherhood too much responsibility. “I’m sure of it.”

“I know,” Pyotr agrees. “But she asked you to take care of Gabby. Maybe she’s trying to tell you she wants you to stay here. To raise her daughter because she knows you can’t help her anymore.”

“What do you mean?” The cold fear that trickles through my veins turns my blood to ice. And my mind rebels against his words, fighting to ignore my pakhan’s rationale.

“Gleb, you can’t take on the Irish mafia all by yourself, and I can’t send reinforcements to help you. We already lost Lev and Denka to these assholes. I can’t risk more good men to try and bring Mel home. And I sure as hell can’t afford to start a second war when we’re already losing the first one.” Pyotr’s voice is laced with remorse, and I know he doesn’t like refusing to help.

But he’s right. He has his hands full with the Zhivoder. I can’t ask him to take on more than what he’s facing with Mikhail.

“I get it,” I say evenly. “And I wouldn’t ask you to, but I’m going after Mel.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Pyotr nods. And I wonder if he was contemplating ordering me to stay in New York. The understanding in his eyes runs deep enough to tell me he knows from personal experience the lengths a man would go to for the woman he loves.

“I do have to ask one favor of you, though,” I add softly. “A big one.”

“Anything within my power,” Pyotr says.

“If I don’t come back… would you and Silvia raise Gabby for me? Mel would never forgive me if I didn’t leave her with someone we trust. And I know you both would love her like your own.” The tension in my chest forms a solid knot, and the thought of leaving Gabby with anyone else is astonishingly painful.

But knowing she’s in good hands will make it easier to do what needs to be done—no matter the cost.

“Of course we will,” Silvia answers for Pyotr as she stops in the drawing room doorway. She sounds almost tearful.

Pyotr nods in agreement, but his expression is conflicted. “You shouldn’t go, man. It’ll only get you killed.”

Silvia’s lips press into a thin line of concern.

“I know,” I state grimly. “But I have to. I can’t leave Mel to that fate.”

27

MEL

The ride to Boston in the dark was terrifying—seated in the back with my hands tied so I couldn’t “get cute and try anything.” Leon and Mishka spoke in hushed Russian from the front seat. And when we finally reached Boston, it was nearly two in the morning.

Rather than taking me straight to Vinny, they decided to keep me in a tiny two-bedroom flat for the night. I wonder if it doesn’t belong to one of them—or both. But they don’t bother telling me. It’s a comfortable living space. Or it would be if I had the freedom to walk around in it.

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