Page 77 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

My teeth clack together as Fyodor’s elbow plows into my face, slicing my attempt to reach them. Pain explodes through my jaw and heat rushes to the point of impact at my lip. I stumble backward, my head spinning. It’s not until I fall backward and land on my tail bone that I cry out in pain.

Everyone pauses for half a second, and the brawl stops long enough for Daniil to force himself between the two battling men. He wrestles with them, trying to part them as Fyodor starts to yell.

“You asshole! You fucking shitbag! My daughter, you fuck. She’s my daughter and you nearly killed her! I’m going to kill you!”

Daniil gets both arms around Fyodor’s middle and hauls him backward, away from Zasha. Zasha, thankfully, has enough sense not to follow. He stands, panting with blood pouring from his mouth and a fat split on his lips.

Climbing to my feet, I tighten the tier around my waist and dart forward, trying to keep myself between Zasha and Fyodor who twists furiously in Daniil’s hold.

“What the hell is going on?” I demand, ignoring the trickle of warm blood from the wound at my lip. “Can we just—take a breath and use our fucking words?”

My jaw throbs and my head aches from being woken up so abruptly. Confusion swirls like fog in my chest but thankfully, Fyodor appears to be calm enough that Daniil can release him, although he stays attached to Fyodor’s side as if ready for another attack.

Fyodor turns away and paces like a caged animal being denied the kill, so Daniil turns to me, and his face is unreadable.

“We tracked down the group that did the drive-by,” he says.

“And? Who was it?”

Daniil’s attention shifts to Zasha. “Zasha’s men.”

“Bullshit,” Zasha spits, then he has to spit for real as blood floods his mouth.

“It’s the truth,” Daniil bites out. “We have a few in custody. They belong to the pocket of men still loyal to you, Zasha, and they’ve been trying to find you ever since you disappeared. Somehow, they knew you were here, and they did the drive-by to try and kill Fyodor. I suppose they thought his death would leave this place open for them to come and rescue their Pakhan.”

It’s a lot to take in, and nausea bubbles under my tongue. “That…that car was driven by Zasha’s men?” I look at Zasha.

His face is open in honest shock, disbelief clinging to his features even as he wipes at his wounds. “How? How do they even know I am here? I’ve had zero contact with the outside world since I arrived here. I swear down on my life that I have never spoken to a soul!”

Honesty clings to his words, but when Fyodor turns to face him, the rage in his eyes is clear. There is nothing Zasha can say to make Fyodor believe him. He’s too blinded by rage, by the pain of Dariya’s condition.

“If…if Fyodor has been absorbing my people and some of my businesses, then maybe it was a lucky guess, but I swear. I haven’t spoken to anyone. I swear it!”

“You’re a liar!” Fyodor snarls, surging forward but he’s blocked by Daniil who keeps him back. “You’re a shit-eating liar! My baby—” Fyodor’s voice cracks and for the first time since the attack, tears glisten in his eyes.

My heart breaks and his earlier anguished howl echoes in my ears.

“My baby, my little girl is lying in a hospital bed with bullet holes in her. She’s hooked up to machines that are bigger than her and it’s my fault.” Fyodor slams his hands against his chest. “It’s my fucking fault because I took you in, you fucking rat! I brought you into my home, into my family, and this is how you repay me? You hurt my baby?!”

A wretched sob tears out of Fyodor and he doubles over, as if the grief is causing him physical pain that he can’t handle. I half step forward, my arms aching to hold him, but Daniil sharply shakes his head.

Not yet.

“I should have left you to die,” Fyodor snarls, lifting his venomous gaze back to Zasha. “I should have left your frozen corpse on that fucking road back in February. If you had died, my daughter would be—” Emotion cuts him off once more.

Zasha’s face crumples. From the pain that flashes across him, he looks like he agrees with Fyodor and that’s enough to convince me of his innocence. I don’t know how any of this happened or what the end goal is, but Zasha doesn’t look like he’s just won some kind of victory over Fyodor.

In fact, he looks as pained as Daniil does.

“Naomi?”

I blink slowly and Daniil is a few steps closer. “What?”

“You’re hurt.” He gently touches my jaw and pain flares sharply from the press of his fingertips. I wince and press my lips together, feeling the split flesh of my lower lip press against my upper lip.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” he scolds gently. From there, the glare of one of the floodlights is so bright that I can see his eyes through his shades, and they hold such pain that my heart breaks further.

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