Page 58 of Reign of Four

“Be careful what wish for,” Ezra grunts, his cock already hardening next to my ear. “Because we will deliver on promise, zhena.”

“Moya prekrasnaya zhena,” Andrei murmurs, sliding his hand between my thighs. He teases my clit with light brushes of his fingertips, making me sigh with pleasure. “Sleep. We’ll take good care of you and the baby.”

“We always will.”

I grab Mikhail and Andrei’s hands and hold them to my chest, a smile on my lips.

I know my men will keep their promise.

I couldn’t ask for better fathers for our beautiful baby girl.

Epilogue

Mikhail

It’s been weeks since I’ve heard from my sister.

It’s not like her to ignore me for so long, but then again, it’s not like her to be mad at me for this long, either. We’ve had our little disagreements over the years, but this one was huge. She won’t forgive me for a long time.

But this silent treatment bullshit has got to end. I’m going to be a father, for crying out loud. I’d like to celebrate that with my twin sister before the baby pops out.

I pound my fist against Celia’s front door. “Celia, open up! You can’t be mad at me forever!” I back up to glance at her garage door, noting her car parked inside, then go right back to her front porch. “I know you’re in there!”

Movement from behind the door catches my attention, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God she has some sense. I really didn’t want to have to break down her door to see her.

She’d hate me a little for that, too.

The door unlocks, and I’m already trying to step across the threshold when I’m stopped by someone who is not my sister. A man blocks my path. A man who looks familiar, but whose name I can’t place. Dark hair sweeps across his forehead, and the cocky smile on his face makes me want to punch the fucker. “Celia’s tied up at the moment. Can I take a message?”

“Get out of my way.” I try to shove past the man, but he blocks my entry with an arm on the doorjamb and a grin that pisses me off. “Don’t make me stab you,” I hiss, pulling my knife from its hidden sheath and pressing it against his abdomen. “Because I’ll make it hurt.”

“The famous Mikhail Monrovia, stab me?” He flourishes his hand against his chest. “I’m honored. Go ahead.”

The fucker’s crazy, but so am I.

I press the knife deeper, cutting through his stupid v-neck shirt—what fucking adult wears those—and shove the tip into his gut. It shouldn’t hit anything important here, but if he rams it deeper, he’ll be hurting.

The man hisses, dark eyes alight with joy. “You’re going easy on me, Monrovia. I said, stab me.”

Fine.

The knife goes deep, three solid inches, through the muscle and into his body cavity. I’ve been stabbed before—that shit fucking hurts. But this man starts laughing, running his hand through his hair as he cackles. “Fuck, man, I love it. I’ll tell your sister you send your regards.” He claps his hand on my shoulder. “Welcome to the family, Monrovia. Glad to have you.”

He backs up, unsticking the knife, and moves to close the door.

I block it with my foot and shove it open as wide as I can. Behind this man is another—a larger, taller one, who’s a damn near spitting image of the first one.

Brothers.

Russian brothers, by the looks of their tattoos. I only spot two, but I know there’s a third—the worst one of all—and then the fourth half-brother just waltzed back into the Bratva on a golden fucking pardon granted by Andrei Leonov himself. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to let him back in. Now, his brothers are terrorizing my sister, because they think they can.

I curse aloud. Fuck, they shouldn’t be here. I glare at both of them. What the hell are their names? Ezra told me once. Twice. I can never remember. They’re not traditional ones; they go by some made-up shit.

Valentina would know. She keeps up with these things. I know real estate and property ownership—I don’t know our members as well.

“This is Baranova property—and I’m ordering you to get the hell out.” I fight against the stabbed one to push open the door. He’s stronger than me, even while injured. I should have twisted the knife when I had the chance.

The taller brother steps closer, not nearly as amused as the other one. “This house is under our protection now, Monrovia. I suggest you stand down before someone gets hurt. I’d hate to tell Celia that we broke her brother’s arm for putting his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

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