Page 88 of Bratva King's Secret Twins

Her hoodie hangs loose, like it’s been through hell with her. The sight of her—on her knees, wrists bound, bruises darkening every inch of her skin—makes the blood roar in my ears. My fists clench so tight my nails cut into my palms, but I welcome the pain. It’s nothing compared to what she’s been through.

Her lip is swollen, split, and the corner of her mouth trembles as she breathes. The bruises around her eye have turned deep shades of purple, her skin marred with the evidence of every blow she took because of me. Blood, dried and flaking, stains her cheek, and I can’t stop staring at it, my mind replaying the endless ways I’ll make them pay.

Sho stiffens beside me, but he’s already gone from my mind. All I see is her—on her knees on that cold, filthy concrete dock. And that man…the one who kicked her out of the car like she’s nothing. He’s going to die first. That’s the only thing I’m sure of now.

The murderous fury that bubbles inside me won’t let me move. My hands itch for a blade. For blood. To make every one of them suffer, and yet the guilt sits heavy in my chest, knowing this is all on me. I failed her.

The sound of her shallow breaths drags me back to reality. Nadia takes a step forward but I curl my hands around her upper arm and hold her back. The plan is still in play even if that means I have to wait a week for DNA results before I kill Boris. His head, his soul, his pleas for life will be mine.

Boris’s yellow smile spreads as he scans over Gwen’s sagging body. “Sorry for the injuries, Nik. Your girl has quite a mouth on her. You should put it to better use.”

My jaw clenches and without thinking, I take a step forward, my eyes burning with fury. With a steely gaze, I meet Boris's malicious grin and calmly respond, “Funny you should mention that, Boris. Because after I'm done with you, the only thing your mouth will be good for is begging for mercy.”

Boris laughs and I wonder if that gurgle chuckle he has is similar to him choking on his blood.

“I want to make an amendment to our deal.” Boris smiles.

“No,” Aleksandr spits.

“Yes, but I want to speak to the king, not the lackey,” Boris snarls. Aleksandr seethes, clicking his gun so the red dot shines in the middle of Boris’s chest. Boris doesn’t flinch, snapping his finger so twenty more dots beat violently on my chest. Bullet-proof vests can’t withstand repeated shots to the same location. Twenty shots to my chest and I’m a fucking goner.

With a wicked smirk, I bring my hands up to chest level. "What's the deal?" I ask, trying to hide the growing unease in my gut.

"Gwen for the Bratva," Boris declares, his words sending a surge of fear through my veins.

My blood runs cold as Nadia growls her opposition, “Absolutely fucking not.”

“That’s not a good deal, Boris. A girl for the crown to the Russian Mafia, real uneven,” I counter, narrowing my eyes on the confident click of Boris’s jaw.

"I raised him well, didn't I?” he sneers, gesturing to the colorful man who kicked Gwen out of the car. She cowers on the ground, refusing to meet my gaze. Every fiber of my being screams to protect her, to hold her, and tell her for thefirst time that despite everything, I love her. But she just hunches over her knees on the floor, forcing her knotted black curls to cover her face.

But then Boris speaks again, his voice smooth and calculated. "Let's sweeten the deal, shall we? Leave town with your precious girl and your kids, and I won't kill you as long as you never step foot in New York again.”

My body freezes at the mention of my children. Did he just say my kids? Panic rises in my chest as I steal a glance at Nadia, her face drained of color. Aleksandr cocks his gun once more, finger tightening on the trigger.

I turn to look at Gwen, only to see her staring back at me with wide eyes filled with terror. And then it all comes crashing down on me. Boris pulls out his own gun and presses it against the back of Gwen's head, a sickening click echoing through across the dock and clashing against the constant sound of the waves.

"Say no and I'll blow her brains out," he snarls, his grip on the trigger unyielding. "And then I'll hunt down your children and do the same."

My blood boils at Boris's offer, his smug grin taunting me as he dangles the lives of Gwen and my children like a carrot in front of a starving animal. My fists ball up in frustration, my eyes narrowing into slits as I glare at him.

Sho's hand grips my shoulder with a fierce snarl, his eyes blazing with anger and desperation. "If you give him the Bratva, the Yakuza will use him to regain control over both mobs. Nik, you can't-"

I turn to look at him, anger pulsing underneath my skin, butwhen I speak, I don’t address him or Boris. "Mr. Matsumoto, will you change the deal if I break your son's hand?"

A sinister chuckle echoes from the shadowy figure emerging from behind Sho, the sun slowly rising behind him casting an eerie glow on his features. My skin prickles at the sight of Yasou Matsumoto, head of the Yakuza. He gives me a kind smile. Despite the kindness in his eyes and that his first name Yasou means peaceful man, my stomach drops, and my skin pricks at the mere sight of him. The minute I called him, I knew if I was a demon, then Mr. Matsumoto was the devil.

Sho stiffens beside me, realizing the gravity of our situation. He turns accusingly towards Aleksandr, who stands nonchalantly nearby, gun still trained on Boris. "You betrayed me," Sho seethes.

But Aleksandr merely shrugs, as if bored with the entire situation. "I saved your life," he retorts coolly. "You owe me one now."

For a moment, it seems like Sho has accepted his fate. I watch as he closes his eyes and perhaps says a silent prayer. But then, with lightning speed, he pulls out a grenade and pulls the pin out with his teeth.

In a quick flick of his wrist, he hurls it towards Boris and Gwen before anyone can react. The explosion is deafening and fills the air with smoke and chaos. All I can hear is Gwen’s scream.

44

NIKOLAI

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