Page 26 of Stolen Seconds

Nicolai had gone through something terrible,soterrible that he’d almost lost himself in the process.

That hollowness inside my chest ached, eating all the emotions racing through me when all I wanted to do was scream.

It was clear that my brother was content with Roman and his crew, but I was selfish. It was wrong of me to try to take that away from him. I knew that. Yet, I was still here.

“Thank you for sharing that with me.” It was all I could say. Anything else would’ve sent me spiraling.

Nico shook his head as he chuckled. “I’m usually not an expressive person.” He caught my eyes, understanding passing through his own. “I guess misery loves company.”

My heart thudded, cold sweat breaking down my spine. “Did Roman teach you that?”

“Teach me what?”

“How to read people?”

The corner of his lips twitched. “Why? Was I correct?”

“No.” I stood from my seat, handing him my mug. “I’m not miserable.”

He nodded. “Goodnight, Irina.”

“Goodnight, Nicolai.”

Chapter 7

Irina

My father always told me I was an organ donor.

He’d said riding motor bikes would inevitably lead to my death. He wasn’t wrong. My fondness for bikes had a lot to do with the rush it brought me—that fine line between life and death.

But I was an adrenaline junkie, not suicidal.

The narrow streets of Italy were perfect to pass through. I’d borrowed one of Roman’s bikes this morning and left the manor.

I’d lied to Aurora about wanting to explore on my own when I was actually meeting my cousin.

Viktor’s surprise visit irritated me. I knew it was my father who asked him to come and watch over me, but I didn’t care. I didn’t need his protection, and I didn’t want him here. He could blow my cover unintentionally.

I slowly rode down the back alley to where he told me to meet him. It was sketchy, but I knew he was staying on the down low.

A whistle came from behind me. I shifted the bike and braked, turning my head.

Viktor was leaning against the brick building, staring at me blankly.

I narrowed my eyes at him before getting off the bike and walking toward him. “Go home, Viktor.”

“No can do.” His callous demeanor had always ground on my nerves as if he was to be held in high regards by every living creature.

“You can and you will. I don’t need a babysitter.”

He stepped forward, glaring down at me. “I don’t care,Irina. You focus on your mission, and I’ll focus on making sure you don’t waste my time.”

“Your time?” I scoffed. “I don’t evenwantyou here.”

“But your father does,” he drawled humorously. “Already met one of them today.”

Viktor was fifteen years older than me and had always made it his duty to rank up in the Bratva. When his father—who was my uncle and the previousPakhan—died, Viktor assumed his position when he came of age. But instead his father gave that title to his brother—my father.

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