Page 76 of Bratva King's Secret Twins

I stare at it, the dark curls resting on the pale satin like some twisted trophy. A note is tucked beneath the hair, its edges crumpled as if someone had clenched it in a fist. My hands shake as I pull it out, unfolding the paper with a kind of dread that seeps into my bones.

The words are scrawled in a jagged, almost mocking script:

Next time, I’ll send you her scalp. Let me leave in peace, or you’ll have her in pieces.

For a moment, I can’t breathe. The world narrows to just those words, and the strands of Gwen’s hair tied in an emerald green bow. Her favorite color. Just how fucking long could he have been watching her?

A low, primal growl builds in my chest, rising up until it rips from my throat in a roar of pure,unfiltered rage. I slam the box against the wall, the satin and ribbon scattering across the floor as I turn on my heel.

“Gather the heads of our alliances. I need to make a deal.”

38

NIKOLAI

“Idon’t fucking care that tonight is the governor’s ball; shut it down or he won’t make it to tomorrow,” Alek growls into the phone. “No, Thomas, that wasn’t a threat it was a fucking promise.”

Aleksandr clicks off his phone, stalking back to the conference table in the Petrov building. Our eyes lock with those of the ruthless leaders of the Irish, Polish, and Italian mobs. None of us has our security and Nadia has been missing since I said I’d kill our father.

“Gentlemen, I have invited you here for a favor.” I lean over the table, my fingertips spread in a tense web.

“You didn’t invite us, Nikolai, you dragged us out of our houses with guns and threats,” says Dante, the head of the Italian mafia, a man with pitch black hair and a constant low gaze that makes him look more predator than human.

“My apologies, Dante,” I comment, squeezing my eyes shut as I keep a trained gaze on the table in front of me.

“This better be good,” Mr. Doyle, the head of the Irish Mafia comments, adjusting his navy blue robe.

“Boris has taken someone very important to me,” I say, my voice strained as I stand up straight, cracking my knuckles—a nervous tic I haven’t succumbed to since I was twelve.

“The curly black haired girl?” Jakub, the head of the Polish mob answers nonchalantly and I narrow my gaze on him.

“What do you know about her?” I growl, taking small steps towards his seat.

“Oh come on now, Nikolai, you are not the only one who keeps tabs on everyone,” Jakub taunts, reclining back in his chair as I make my panther stroll closer to him. “But I swear I know nothing of her missing.”

I stop two steps in front of Jakub as I continue to speak. “I need the forces of everyone to find out where Boris is and where he has taken her.”

“And in return?” Dante questions.

“Anything,” I snap back, looking over in his direction.

The doors burst open, and Nadia in her normal all black attire, just covered in dirt with a strong stench of metallic, storms in, her eyes puffy and her face red. “Sorry to interrupt the sausage party,” she says with a teasing grin, before her eyes narrow in on me. “But I couldn’t see how this conversation could happen without me, so I’m here,” she snaps, her tone laced with sarcasm as she drops into a chair and kicks her boots onto the table.

“Nadia,” I warn.

“Now, Nik, don't worry about me. I’m just here to make sure you don’t murder my father, since you disowned him,” shecounters, and my stomach twists. If only I could disown the bastard, but he is not even my father to abandon.

“Now is not the time,” I growl, my voice deadly, but she ignores me, her gaze sharp as a knife as she meets my eyes.

“I don’t care what time it is. Matter of fact, I think now is the perfect—” she starts, but Aleksandr cuts her off, his voice a bark.

“Nadia, go,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She jumps to her feet, both hands placed flatly on the table, her jaw tightening as she smiles something ruthless. “Make me, psycho boy.”

Aleksandr tenses to the point he looks statuesque and I step closer to Nadia, growling through my teeth. “Both of you cut it out!”

The door creaks open again. This time, Lily steps in, her satin night set clinging to her frame, the matching robe trailing behind her like a whisper of silk. All eyes, but mine, fall on her innocent frame.

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