Page 53 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

“I knew it. As soon as I laid my eyes on you, I knew you were nothing but a common whore eager to spread your legs for the first dick that showed interest,” Vladimir spat. “If you weren’t so used, I’d fuck you myself before I kill you.”

“You son of a bitch!” Daniil starts to surge upward but the guard on the left fires another bullet. It lands close enough that Daniil sinks back down over me, caging me in with his arms as if that can save either of us.

He’s mad at me?

“And you. What kind of guard goes after the boss’s sloppy seconds, hmm? I’m sure my son trusts you in some regard, but that is just evidence of how badly he judges character.”

My stomach knots as my thoughts tumble together. Fyodor knows about Daniil and me. He wouldn’t be mad, and yet we’re on the edge, teetering over an infinite abyss with Vladimir ready to send us both over.

I try to speak but the fear is so pure that my teeth merely clack together and only a whimper makes it past my lips.

“You know nothing,” Daniil sneers.

“I know enough. I’ve seen enough. It’s about time I start cleaning up around here.” Vladimir clicks his tongue and the guard on the left takes a step forward, gun cocked.

“No!” Daniil surges upward, attempting to tackle the guard as he makes it to his feet, he stumbles backward as Vladimir snatches the gun from his right-hand guard and opens fire.

Daniil cries out in pain. Warm blood sprays down onto my hand.

“Daniil!”

Daniil stumbles back against the bar, clutching his shoulder and still he fights to maintain his position between me and Vladimir.

Vladimir aims the weapon down to me and tears flood my eyes.

“Wait,” I gasp hoarsely, pushing myself up into a sitting position. I can’t take my eyes off the black metal gun glaring at me. “Please, wait?—”

“Enough,” Vladimir barks. Tension swells in my chest, filling my lungs to the point that they’re about to explode.

Am I going to die?

“Stop!” a familiar voice yells, and pounding footsteps fly into the room, causing my racing heart to pound like a rabbit fighting to escape a snare.

Fyodor runs into the room, his eyes wide and he slides to a stop near his father.

“Stop this madness!”

Vladimir falters, then turns to Fyodor.

“Fine,” he remarks, tossing the gun into Fyodor’s waiting hands. “You want to prove you’re the top dog so badly? This treachery cannot stand! You kill them.”

20

NAOMI

Fyodor is here?

How the hell is Fyodor here?

Rain clings to the top of his curls and a dark pattern of dampness sprinkles across his shoulders. He couldn’t have been inside more than five minutes before finding his way here.

A numb silence falls and I find myself holding my breath, terrified for a moment that Fyodor will follow through with his father’s request. The man is so manipulative, and I don’t know exactly what hold Vladimir has over his son.

Daniil’s muted grunts of pain break the silence every so often, and even though no one moves, Daniil seeks out one of my hands. Warm blood makes contact slippery, but he grips me tightly as we all wait for Fyodor’s move.

My chest tightens further. The guards shift their stances and move as if the entire room is locked in a loop of slow motion. Vladimir stamps his cane on the ground.

“Fio,” he barks out. “Now!”

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