Page 20 of Secret Bratva Twins

Roman nods once, standing straight. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Call if you need anything.”

As he steps out, the silence returns, oppressive and suffocating. I move through the house, checking every room, every corner, as if some small piece of her might still remain. There’s nothing. No evidence of her touch, her presence. It’s like she was a ghost.

I stop in the bedroom, staring at the bed we shared. The sheets are freshly changed—Roman must have arranged it—butit feels wrong. Her warmth, her scent, the way she’d curl up on her side—it’s all gone.

I sit on the edge of the bed, my hands resting on my knees. The anger inside me simmers, a dangerous promise. Chiara might think she’s won, that she’s escaped me. She’s wrong.

She’ll learn soon enough that no one crosses Serge Sharov and walks away unscathed.

Chapter Eight - Chiara

The Montana sun dips low over the horizon, casting a golden glow across the fields that stretch endlessly beyond the farmhouse. This place, quiet and tucked away from the chaos of the outside world, has been my sanctuary for the past four years. I never imagined my life would turn out like this—raising twins in a rural town, pretending the past never happened, hoping it never finds me.

I step out onto the porch, holding a basket of fresh laundry. The twins are playing in the yard, their laughter filling the air. Leo, with his bright blue eyes and unruly blond hair, is chasing after Alyssa, who inherited my darker features but somehow still carries an undeniable resemblance to Serge. They’re a blend of both of us, each a living reminder of the man I left behind.

I can’t let my mind linger there for long. Serge can’t find us. He can never know about them. The thought makes my chest tighten as I watch Leo trip over a rock, landing on the grass with a surprised yelp. Alyssa is at his side in an instant, helping him up like the little caretaker she is.

“Are you okay, baby?” I call out, setting the basket on the porch.

“I’m fine, Mama!” Leo shouts back, brushing off his overalls.

It amazes me how resilient they are, how full of life. They have no idea what kind of world they were born into or the danger that still lingers. That’s the way I need to keep it.

I head back inside, the farmhouse cozy and warm with its worn wooden floors and mismatched furniture. It’s not the luxurious life I once knew, but it’s ours. It’s safe. I glance at theclock—dinnertime is nearing, and the kids will be hungry after all their running around.

As I prep a simple meal, my mind drifts to the choices that brought me here. I failed to kill Serge, or so Dante says. Staying would have meant exposing my children to his world—a world of danger, violence, and power struggles. I couldn’t do that to them, no matter how much it hurt to walk away.

The twins come barreling into the kitchen, dirt on their hands and grass stains on their clothes. “Wash up!” I scold gently, pointing them toward the sink.

They scramble to obey, their giggles echoing through the house. As I watch them, I can’t help but feel a pang of fear. What would Serge do if he found us? Would he try to take them from me? Would he use them against me? The thought is unbearable.

***

Later that evening, after the twins are tucked into bed, I sit by the window with a cup of tea, staring out at the moonlit fields. The night is quiet, but my mind isn’t. Every shadow feels like a threat, every distant sound like a warning.

I’ve done everything to cover my tracks, to make sure Serge could never find me. I left behind every trace of my old life, fled to this town where no one knows me. It’s a far cry from the bustling cities I once knew, but it’s exactly what I need—a place where I can raise my children without fear.

Still, the paranoia lingers. Serge isn’t the kind of man who lets go easily. I know that better than anyone. Even though four years have passed, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s out there, looking for me.

The thought terrifies me, not for my sake, but for Leo and Alyssa. They’re innocent in all of this. They don’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire of a war they never asked to be part of.

I glance at a photo on the mantel—a candid shot of the twins laughing together, their faces lit up with pure joy. They’re my world now, my reason for everything. No matter what happens, I’ll protect them. I’ll keep them safe from Serge and anyone else who threatens to disrupt this fragile peace we’ve built.

As the tea cools in my hands, I let out a shaky breath. Life here is simple, almost monotonous, but I prefer it that way. Monotony means safety. It means no surprises, no threats, no past creeping back to haunt me.

Lorenzo crosses my mind briefly. My half brother always underestimated me, dismissing me as nothing more than a liability. Maybe that’s why I didn’t run to him after I left Serge. Lorenzo would have seen my situation as leverage, a way to strengthen his position. And I couldn’t trust him to protect my children.

Out here, in this quiet corner of Montana, I’ve managed to create a life for us. It’s not perfect, and it’s far from easy, but it’s ours.

***

The shrill ringtone cuts through the morning stillness, and I groggily reach for my phone, careful not to wake the twins. Dante’s name flashes across the screen. As I answer, I hear a small shuffle from down the hall, followed by the unmistakable thudding of tiny feet.

“Dante,” I whisper, propping myself up against the headboard.

“Good morning, Chiara. How are things over there?” His voice is calm, steady—the way it always is when I need it to be.

Before I can respond, the bedroom door bursts open, and two little whirlwinds storm in. “Uncle Dante!” Alyssa squeals, climbing onto the bed as Leo scrambles up beside her.

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