Page 80 of Bratva King's Secret Twins

In a swift, jarring motion, his hand rises, and before I can react, it crashes against my cheek. The force of the slap snaps my head to the side, and I can feel the sting spreading, a fiery line of agony that pulses with every breath he breathes in my face.

My cheek throbs, and a coppery taste floods my mouth, mixing with the lingering warmth of the water I drank moments before. I can’t help but wince, the sharp pain radiating through my jaw and into my skull.

Boris’s laughter fills the air, rich and unbothered, while my eyes water from the sting. “You're a bitch just like his mother.”

I click my head to the other side of my body, the weight of my head after that hit feeling too heavy to move. “Oh, I get it.”

“You get what?”

“The type of man you are.” I let out a drunken laugh. “You’re the type of man who lacks the emotional intelligence to use his words, so you hit because you’re too caveman to talk.”

Boris’s eyes darken with irritation, and in a blink, his fist is hurtling toward me. The punch connects with brutal force, slamming into the side of my face. It’s a solid, bone-crushing impact that sends a wave of shock through my body. The force of his punch is like a sledgehammer, crashing into my cheekbone and forcing my head to snap sideways with a sickening crack.

The pain is immediate and intense, a blinding burst of agony that leaves me gasping for breath.

“Want to keep talking, sweetheart?” Boris mocks.

I spit out a lump of blood from my mouth and give him a lazy smile. “Come on, sweetheart, I thought we were just getting started.”

“You and Nikolai have the same problem.”

“That we both can’t stand you?” I cock an eyebrow.

“No, you have distractions that keep you from your goals.” He pulls up a chair across from me, crossing his arms over the back of the chair. “You, a stellar lawyer, fails because her gambling addicted father owes money to a gang. A gang that put a price tag of hundred thousand dollars on your head to track you down and you being given back to their leader Mason.”

“I knew you were a bad guy, but sex trafficking is a new low, don’t you think?”

“Don’t worry about me, love. Mason didn’t specify if he wanted you dead or alive,” he teases, and I swallow a dry lump in my throat. “I’d prefer for you to be dead.”

“Is that what you do when you don’t get your way with a girl?” I counter. “You kill her?”

“Gwendolyn, I am not one of your boyfriends.” His knuckles run down my swelling cheek as he speaks. “You can’t manipulate me. I feel no guilt for my crimes.”

“How original!” I deadpan as I pull my face away from his touch. “A villain who is proud of his crimes.”

“If you give me a reason to kill you, I will, but until then.” Boris pulls a phone out of his pocket and points the camera at me. “Smile for Nikolai while you still can.”

41

NIKOLAI

In exchange for more than half of the Russian territory and a couple of favors I would have to find a way out of, the Italian and Irish mafias agreed to shut down the city. The Polish mafia on the other hand, well, they don’t have a leader anymore. By the time I made it back into the main room, Aleksandr had killed him as an example, or for making a crude comment about Lily. Either way, it didn’t matter. The Polish were small compared to the Bratva in New York, so their revenge for the death of their leader would have to wait.

When I asked about the gang in DC that Gwen’s father owed money to, Dante already had the Howlers gang on his payroll. Mason was a means to an end, costing more than he was worth and I was given the green light to dispose of him accordingly.

It had been three weeks since Boris left me with my mother's hand and one week of Gwen being held hostage, and I had only gotten a total of six hours of sleep. My body pulsed with exhaustion, but I pushed it to the side because we were finally outside the entrance to Howlers’ headquarters where Mason could be keeping Gwen.

We were one step closer to rescuing Gwen and bringing her back home. One step closer to finally uncovering the truth about why she would keep my children away from me. And even if this lead turned out to be a dead end, I would still have accomplished something valuable: not only would I potentially bury the lead that Gwen could be here instead of with Boris, but I would also make sure Mason paid for his threats against the woman I love and the mother of my children. It was all still a win-win.

I slam through the door, the frame splintering under the force of my entry with Nadia right behind me. Aleksandr stayed at home with kids because Mia insisted on giving him a makeover. If one of my siblings wasn't watching Gio and Mia, I wouldn't feel at ease leaving them behind while I traveled to Washington D.C. in search of Gwen. However, Nadia was adamant about coming with me to confront Mason, so that meant Aleksandr had to stay in New York with the twins. When we left, Aleksandr had a gun strapped to his chest with red lips and sky blue eyeshadow, and a confused expression that also looked like a plea for help.

The rancid stench of cigarettes and sweat assaults my senses as I storm into the dingy house doubling as an underground UFC club. All the men look at me with hard eyes, and a particularly ugly man with one eye spits at my feet.

“Eh,” the ugly man with a thick Hungarian accent rang through the house. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here, pretty boy?”

I offer him a wide, devilish smile and speak with the carefree bravado of a man who owed the ground he stood on. Nadia stands with a shotgun sitting on her shoulder, more for show because men like this normally didn’t see her as a threat andthere is nothing that angered her more than that. “I am looking for Mason.”

“Yeah?” a big, burly man with thin lips and a bald head questions, his four-finger hand leaning against his knee. “Who’s asking?”

---