Page 78 of The Bratva's Nanny

Then, he ordered Lev to do something in Russian.

Before I could squeak, the blond flung his leg and bashed Finn’s rib.

Roman snarled, “Who do you work for?”

Finn hesitated, his eyes darting toward me, then back to Roman. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He knew he was in a precarious position, and I could see the fear written all over his face.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered, trying to play dumb.

“Lev….”

Lev’s foot went flying to his jaw. He screamed in anguish, and my heart clenched. Not in pity but rather in disgust at the sight and the gruesome memories it jogged.

Roman’s expression hardened, and his eyebrow arched. “Don’t play dumb. I know you’re a spineless leech, sucking off some poor guy with bad intentions. Who is it?”

Finn’s eyes flashed toward me again, and I could see the desperation in them. He knew he was running out of options, and I could sense his reluctance to give up his boss’s identity.

“I…I can’t,” Finn whispered, his voice barely audible.

Roman’s face darkened, his eyes blazing with anger. “You’re going to regret not answering me,” he growled, his fist clenched and ready to strike. “Lev!”

Lev grabbed the man from the ground and swung him into a pole nearby. I swore I heard a bone crack.

“Fuck! God….”

“You’re going to die either way, dammit,” I mumbled loud enough for him to hear me, and I cursed under my breath. “Just spit out his name already.”

The reality that he was going to die in Roman’s hands crumbled his resolve. He whimpered, and his eyes darted toward me, finally surrendering. He coughed, sputtered, wheezed.

“Benjamin Quinn,” he stammered finally.

I froze, and Roman’s eyes widened with the slightest hint of shock.

Then, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw ticked. “You can’t even so much as look at her, son of a bitch.” He glanced at his watch before unfastening it and handing it to Lev. “You’re going to regret ever crossing me, Finn Jameson.”

And his fist connected with Finn’s face once more.

Chapter Twenty-Three – Roman

Maria hadn’t said a word since I’d punched out two of Finn’s teeth. Not when Lev dragged his bloodied bloody to one of the cars. Not when I’d given her more comfortable clothes to change into. And not since we’d been on the road for almost two hours.

Her head rested on the window, and she sat silently, watching the buildings and trees go by in a blurry rush. Occasionally, she’d heave a heavy sigh, play with her fingers, and resume gazing into an unseen distance.

Up front, Lev led the convoy to Benjamin Quinn’s house, with Finn’s battered face visible from the rearview mirror. I tailed his car closely. Vasili drove behind mine, and the rest of my men fell in line. My mind was a jumble of conflicting emotions. Confusion swirled in my head, and hatred simmered just below the surface, fueled by the memories of my father's stories.

The old man was kicked out without remorse, leaving him to deal with the shame and responsibility of picking himself back up.

Benjamin had been ruthless, crushing anyone who stood in his way. He had no qualms about using dirty tactics, and once upon a time, my family had been his biggest victims. There was a high chance that he still held grudges with my father for overthrowing him.

I remembered his shower of praises at the event that evening.

In just a year, you’ve managed to make a name for yourself in the Big Apple. I’ve heard you’re the fiercest competition yet. There ain’t nothing Roman Varkov isn’t the best at: the corporate sector, building the empire, eliminating rivals, forging the most wicked alliances, and successfully pulling off high-stakes heists. To top it all off, building your reputation as the most ruthless and vicious amongst them all.

He'd come to congratulate me, he said.

Sounded more like he’d come to say his final words because the moment I saw him, I was going to carve a big ‘congratulations’ on his tombstone.

Finn was probably one of his weapons, sharpened to hurt us.

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