Page 82 of Bratva King's Secret Twins

Nadia steps forward, her shotgun slung over her shoulder,

“Now,” Nadia says, her voice cold and unyielding, “either you fall in line with Dante and his men and leave here alive, or you stay and die here and now. Choose wisely, boys.”

The room is silent, save for the sound of the men shuffling nervously out of the house. I close my eyes, listening to the footsteps and whispering to myselfshe’s almost home.“Nikolai,” Nadia whispers, her finger curve around my shoulder.

The front door slams and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “?? ?????, ????,” she whispers.

“I am fine, Nadia.” I take a deep breath, not willing to open my eyes even as Mason’s blood seeps into the fabric of my jeans. “The South Bronx, we need to.”

“No, you need to go home and rest. Your men will search the warehouses. You can sleep for the next couple of hours.” Nadia’s voice is firm, almost motherly, and that makes me smile and groan.

“???? ???????? ?? ??? ?????,” I whisper, finally opening my eyes to stare at the empty wall in front of me.

“You will be dead sooner than you need to if you don't rest. You have been going without sleep for three weeks.”

“Why do you care?” I mutter. “I thought you hated me.”

“I do, but you cannot fight our father in your current state. He will kill you and Gwen. Besides if you are going to die,” she bends down into my ear, “I want to be the one to kill you.”

The helicopter landsin the backyard of my Hamptons villa. It was a two-hour plane ride from DC back to New York, followed by a conversation with Nadia about the layout of warehouses in the South Bronx. I don’t even remember the details of the conversation. I’m not even sure how I got here; my mind is a haze of exhaustion and rage, memories of blood and Mason’s lifeless eyes blending into the dark void that has consumed me since Gwen disappeared.

As I step into the dimly lit hallway, the silence is almost suffocating. The house is too quiet, and the weight of everything presses down on me. My body aches, my knuckles are still bruised from the fight, and all I want is to close my eyes for a moment. But before I can even think of sleep, I hear the soft patter of small feet on the hardwood floor.

“Daddy?”

I freeze, turning to find Mia standing at the top of the stairs, clutching a worn-out stuffed rabbit to her chest. Her wide eyes look at me cautiously and she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth like Gwen does when she’s nervous.

She takes a tentative step down the stairs, her little face scrunched up in thought. “Uncle David said you are my dad.”

A lump forms in my throat, making it difficult to speak. I nod slowly. “Uncle David was right. I’m your dad.” The words feel foreign, unreal, but her face lights up with a smile that melts away some of the darkness inside me.

“Why are you up so late, ?????????”

“I was waiting for you,” she says softly, taking another step closer. “I made you something. It’s a present.”

My heart aches as she reaches into the pocket of her pajama pants and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. She hands it tome, her little hands shaking slightly. I take it, unfolding it carefully. It’s a drawing—me, Gwen, Mia, and Gio, all holding hands, with the words “I love you, Daddy” written in shaky letters at the top.

“I always wanted a daddy,” she says, her voice so innocent, so full of hope.

I feel a pang of guilt, realizing how much she’s missed out on because of me, because of everything. As much as I want to find Gwen, a part of me, a very small part, is so mad at her I am scared to see her again. I swallow hard, forcing a smile.

I feel the weight of exhaustion bearing down on me as I kneel in front of Mia, her innocent eyes filled with a trust I don’t deserve. I gently take her tiny hand in mine, the drawing she made crumpling slightly in my grip. “I’m here now, Mia. I’m not going anywhere.”

She tilts her head, studying me and then scrunching up her nose as her tiny fingers pull at my cheeks. “You look tired.”

I let out a soft chuckle, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. “I am tired. I’ve been having some nightmares.”

Mia’s eyes widen, and her nose scrunches in disgust. I immediately regret saying nightmare, but she twists her lips in thought and then holds out the well-worn rabbit almost as big as she is that she has been holding at her side.

“You need Mr. Floppy,” she says earnestly. “He helps with bad dreams. Mr.Floppy makes everything better. ”

I pick her up, cradling her small frame against my chest, carrying her back up the stairs to the room she shares with Gio. I smile, touching the ear of the rabbit. “Are you sure you don’t need him?”

Mia nods sleepily, resting her head on my shoulder. “I don’t need him anymore because I have you.”

Something sweet bursts in my chest and I pull her closer to my chest in my arms. “Thank you, Mia,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re a brave girl.”

“Just don’t lose him! He’s my best friend.” She yawns.

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