Page 90 of Bratva King's Secret Twins

She's alive.

For a fleeting moment, the world goes silent. The chaos around us, the gunfire, the shouts—it all disappears. It's just me and Gwen. My heart stutters in my chest as I look at her, my black hoodie hanging loosely on her battered frame. Her hands, once bound, are now free, though her knuckles are scraped raw. Her lip is swollen, her black eye a painful reminder of everything she's been through. Her hair, tangled and greasy, falls in disarray over her face, hiding her tired eyes.

But she’s alive.

Relief floods through me, overwhelming and fierce, and I can’t stop myself. My hands, still shaking, reach out to her. I gently push the hair away from her face, careful not to hurt her any more than she already is. My fingers tremble as they brush her skin, and all I can think about is how close I came to losing her.

“Gwen…” I whisper, her name barely leaving my lips. My voice cracks with the emotion I can’t hold back. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and filled with tears that spill over her cheeks.

“Nik, I am so sorry,” she whispers, her voice small and broken. I know what she’s apologizing for—the twins, leaving the apartment, everything. But I don’t care. I shake my head.

“Not now,” I murmur, moving one of her knotted curls behind her ear. “Just keep your head down and stay here.”

“Nik,” she protests, trying to move forward, but I stop her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. The fear in her eyes rips me apart, but I can’t let her put herself in danger again.

“Stay here, Gwen,” I growl, the desperation lacing my voice. She recoils slightly, retreating further into the back of the SUV. I should pull away, should slam the door and get back to the fight—but I can’t. Not yet.

Before I can stop myself, I lean in and capture her lips with mine. The kiss is fierce, raw, and filled with everything I’ve been holding back—fear, relief, guilt, and love. Her swollen lips tremble against mine, but she kisses me back, her fingers curling into my shirt as if holding on for dear life.

In that moment, nothing else matters. Not the gunfire, not the chaos, not the danger waiting for me outside. Just her. Just this.

When I finally pull away, my forehead rests against hers, and I whisper, “Stay safe, Gwen. I’ll come back for you. I swear.”

Without waiting for a response, I pull back, my heart hammering, and slam the door shut, locking her inside.

Before I can return back to the fight, a vicious crack echoes through the air. I whip around to see Aleksandr pinning Boris to the ground, his arm twisted at an unnatural angle. Boris howls in pain, thrashing beneath Aleksandr, who’s ruthless in his movements. Another sickening crack follows, and Boris’s kneecap shatters under Aleksandr’s boot, rendering him completely helpless.

“You’re done,” Aleksandr growls, towering over him. He grips Boris by the collar and starts to drag him across the dock towards us.

But the fight’s far from over. Sho lunges at Nadia, and she meets him head-on, her eyes blazing with fury. They clash in a blur of fists and blades, and I can barely keep up. Nadia’s fast—faster than I’ve ever seen her—but Sho’s not holding back. He’s in it to kill, and every blow between them feels like a death sentence waiting to be delivered.

I force my body to move, pulling myself toward them, every muscle screaming in protest. I need to help Nadia, but then I catch sight of something far more dangerous—Mr. Matsumoto, standing calmly in the chaos, his eyes locked on me.

This ends now.

With my good arm, I draw my gun and stagger toward Matsumoto. He doesn’t flinch as I press the barrel of the gun to his temple, his calm demeanor unwavering. “Call them off,” I snarl, my voice low, barely containing the rage boiling beneath the surface.

His smile doesn’t fade. “Or what, Nikolai? You think my men won’t kill you dead right here, right now?”

“I’ll blow your fucking head off,” I snap, pushing the barrel harder against his skull. “Besides, if you’re dead then the heir to the throne is Sho, right?”

Matsumoto’s jaw rolls in anger but I push the barrel firmer against his temple, barking loudly, “Call them off.”

My voice echoes and the fighting slows. Nadia’s got Sho pinned to the ground with Aleksandr’s help, both of them holding him down as he thrashes in a desperate attempt to free himself. Boris is unconscious, his arm and knee shattered beyond repair, leaning against the door of our SUV.

Everything hangs in the balance.

Matsumoto tilts his head, almost like he’s amused. “And if I do not? What will you do then?”

I don’t answer. The click of my gun’s safety being released is all he gets in response.

The dock falls eerily silent, save for the distant crash of waves and the labored breathing of those still standing.

“If my siblings or I die, then you lose all sway in the Bravta. Boris will be dead regardless of your move and no one else in the family will make a deal with the Yakuza,” I spit on the ground.

“Otosan!” Sho barks from across the dock but Matsumoto doesn’t even look in his direction. Instead, he swipes his hand once across his chest, and all his men return to a soldier’s stance, stiff with hands locked behind their backs.

“We will be taking Sho,” Matsumoto says, looking at me from the corner of his eye.

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