Page 28 of Bratva King's Secret Twins

“Thank you.”

I don’t even wait for the car to completely stop as I rip open the door and rush up the steps to our house. I hear cartoons the minute I open the door, and a wave of relief washes over me until I round the corner.

Mason is hunched over on the floor with Mia, a Barbie doll in one hand, and a gun poking out of his waistband. He still has the same long black hair braided into a man bun, just like how he would wear it in high school, making his chocolate brown hair look black. Intricate black tattoos run up his arms, and a raven’s wing peaks out from underneath his black shirt on his neck.

Mia sees me first and runs up to me with a wide grin, singing, “Mommy, look what Uncle Mason got me!”

Mason’s black eyes turn to me with a wide smile, and he shakes his Barbie in his hand. His slick Irish accent drenches me in a cold sweat.

“Welcome home, pretty girl. Long time no see.”

13

GWEN

The presence of danger triggers a primal response in humans, causing them to flee, fight, or freeze. But with Mason, it’s different.

He exudes danger in every fiber of his being, yet I never feel the urge to run or hide. Instead, he ignites a dangerous fire within me. It’s as if his very essence defies all logic and instinct within me.

My mouth goes dry, my palms slick with sweat, but most dangerously, he brings out an unnerving level of confidence within me. A false bravado that convinces me I can survive the depths of hell because I am confident that he would drag me down there kicking and screaming.

You could call that fight, but I think of it as a twisted tango because I know I will never win, but something within me won’t let me show my fear because if he is a beast, then I am a monster. With Mason, I can always go lower and be faster and wiser, but never stronger. It’s been like that since we were kids, and even if I leave every battle black and blue, it’s okay becausehe becomes less of a man every time we do this violent dance, and it is my sick pleasure to make him feel like the insecure boy I know he is.

His obsidian eyes glitter with a dangerous gleam as he slowly roams over every curve of my body in my grey polyester pantsuit. The intensity of his gaze sends shivers down my spine as he licks his lips and clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“What a shame,” he purrs, “to hide all this beauty from me. How disrespectful.”

Mia is still wrapped around me, giggling, swinging a brown-skinned Barbie doll with a ’70s outfit at me. I tuck a loose strand of hair that has fallen out of my bun behind my ear, plaster on a smile, and bend down to Mia’s eye level, “What’s that, baby?”

She giggles. “I am going to name her Jasmine. She’s so pretty! Uncle Mason got me her and three others.”

She laces her hand with mine and drags me across the living room to sit next to Mason. I take a deep breath and instantly regret it because he smells precisely like he did in high school: leather and spice. The difference between the Mason who gave me my first kiss and the Mason I know now is that I watched him murder a man and he relished in the violence. That is why I got my bachelor’s in California instead of staying in D.C.

When Mia pulls me down, I sit on my knees next to Mason. He places an arm behind me, leaning back slightly, and leans over my shoulder. His breath spreads across my skin in heavy gusts, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand at attention.

“I’ve missed you, G.”

I speak low, smiling as I pick up a tanned-skinned Barbie with long, straight, black hair, and act as if I am happy to play Barbies because Mia can’t know how much danger we’re in.

“UncleMason?”

He darkly laughs, his lips brushing over the curve of my neck. “I would have preferred Daddy, but it seems my girl has been a little slut.”

“I’m not yours,” I growl, keeping my eyes on Mia.

“Oh, come on now, pretty girl,” he sighs as if he is exhausted. “You know you can’t be no one else’s. I’ll make you watch me kill them.”

I inhale sharply, and he nips at my flesh, and I flinch away, leaning in closer to Mia, “Hey baby, why don’t you introduce Jasmine to your other doll, Hannah?”

Mia’s eyes light up, and she jumps to her feet. “Hannah is going to love you, Jasmine!”

She giggles and runs to the twins’ bedroom, and once I hear the door slam behind her, I feel as if I can breathe. Mason is still breathing down my neck, but instead of the welcomed heat, it feels like the breeze of the Arctic consuming me, chilling me to the bone. He inhales me violently, his lips forming into a satisfied smirk as he exhales, a content sigh leaving his lips.

“You have been very naughty, pretty girl.”

His fingers tangle in my hair and pull it loose from its tight bun. It’s a gesture that feels too familiar as if he’s done this every night when I come home from work, as if being with me is second nature to him.

“You deserve punishment, pretty girl, for leaving D.C., for sending me money without a return address, and for making me hunt you down like a fucking animal.” His growl deepens with every word, and a spray of spit is shot out onto my face.

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