Page 96 of Bratva King's Secret Twins

I clench my jaw, trying to push away her words, but they linger, piercing through me. I do understand, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t erase the years she took from me.

“She didn’t know how to tell you,” Nadia says softly. “She was overwhelmed, trying to protect herself and your kids.”

“She doesn’t know how to tell me anything,” I growl, frustration edging my voice. “How am I supposed to protect her when she hides everything from me?”

“She didn’t even tell her friends, Nik. She didn’t know how to tell anyone. That’s why she sent them home, and asked for security,” Nadia whispers.

I swallow. Gwen had sent Kelsey and David back to DC with four armed guards she begged Nadia to ask me for. Taylor, being the legal rising star in New York, refused and said it would be bad for his image, but a couple of my guys tail him from time to time. I didn’t know why she sent everyone home so quickly and was too angry to ask. I guess she didn’t want anyone to see her like this, but that doesn’t excuse anything. Gwen is going to be my wife one day. I want to see her at her best, worst, and everything in between.

Aleksandr and Nadia fall into a tense silence, their eyes still burning my skin.

I look at the garden again—the yellow roses, the tulips. It all feels like a desperate attempt to fix something that can’t be fixed. Gwen is trying to make things right, but I’ve only pushed her away.

I breathe deeply, trying to steady myself. My mind races between anger and the deep sense of loss I’ve been avoiding. Part of me wants to go back inside, find Gwen, and demand answers. But what good would that do? I already know why she did it, but that doesn’t heal the wounds.

My eyes drift back to the garden one last time. It’s a beautiful creation born from her grief, just like Gwen.

Swallowing hard, I turn away, feeling suffocated by guilt. I look closer at the tulips next to the roses, the same shade of yellow that used to fill the walls of Vivi’s. A lump forms in my throat, and the heaviness in my chest tightens. How much have I missed? How much have I pushed away in my anger?The image of Gwen planting these flowers for her nana and for me, while I kept my distance, twists my stomach painfully.

Determined, I head into the house, my steps quick and resolute. I find Mia’s bedroom door slightly ajar and pause, listening to Gwen’s soft voice as she sits on the bed, parting Mia’s hair and humming. My heart stutters at the sight.

“Gwen,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. She looks up, surprised, her hands freezing in Mia’s hair. Mia turns and gives me a sleepy smile, but I barely notice.

“Can we go for a ride?”

47

GWEN

When mafiosos ask you to go on a ride, it normally means they’re going to kill you—or at least that’s what the mafia movies say. A ride to your end.

It doesn’t matter that my stomach is so twisted I feel like my intestines might snap. I wrap my arms around Nikolai’s torso, gripping so tight my elbows dig into my sides. The purr of the motorcycle vibrates through my body, but I focus on the scent of him—woodsy, earthy, and undeniably Nik. If I’m going to die today, that’s the last thing I want to smell: him.

The wind whips past as we speed down the empty road. He hasn’t said much since we left the house, just told me to get on the bike. Five weeks of silence between us, and now this? My heart races, and not from the speed.

I lean my cheek against his back, breathing him in, letting myself have these final moments. The silence, the waiting, the wondering—it’s been killing me slowly. I’d almost rather he just do it already, if that’s what this is. End it, put me out of this misery.

I clutch onto him like he’s my lifeline, knowing that he can’t let me stay in his world or be his mafia queen—not if he doesn’t trust me. I don’t want to stay if this is what our life looks like, with him shutting me out and me feeling like my life is always hanging in the balance. That’s no way to live life.

The rumbling of the bike fades to a low hum as we turn off the main road and enter a thick forest. The trees tower over us, their branches reaching and intertwining to create a canopy above. As we navigate through the winding path, I feel a sense of peaceful isolation settling in and the beauty of the forest washes over me.

Finally, we come to a stop near a small clearing and Nik cuts the engine, causing an abrupt stillness to descend. I release my tight grip on him, feeling the tension leave my body. Nik swings his leg over the bike and stands, surveying our surroundings before walking silently deeper into the forest. I slide off the bike, my knees shaky as I follow silently behind him.

His gaze is drawn to something in the distance, but I can't quite make out what it is from where I trail silently behind him. It's then that I notice the small clearing ahead, dotted with wildflowers and a single stone marker. The only sound now is the gentle rustling of leaves, the distant chirping of birds, and our unsteady breathing.

“Nik.” I swallow, my body prickling with nerves. “I know I have a lot to apologize for, but I-”

“This is where I buried the parts of my mother I received,” Nik says quietly, his voice rougher than usual. “No one knows about this place, not even my siblings.”

I blink, the weight of his words sinking in. He’s brought mehere—here, where he buries his mother, to kill me. At least it will be sentimental, at least he will remember me.

“Oh,” I whisper.

“Her childhood home is across the clearing, but the old bastard who owns it won’t let me buy it.” He lets out a sad chuckle, and I stare at the tension rippling through his back.

“Nik.” I brush my fingers over his shoulder blade, contentment rushing through me at the shiver that ripples under my touch. “Why am I here?”

He turns to face me, his eyes soft but filled with something else—something deeper, darker. “Because I need you to know how much you matter to me. You planted that garden back home thinking I had no place to mourn my mother while you mourned alone.”

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