Page 37 of Secret Bratva Twins

Leo tugs on my sleeve. “Can we play again?”

“Of course,” I reply, my heart aching as I watch their innocence. For now, this is enough. For now, I can shield them from the storm outside the door.

As they count again, I glance toward the window, watching the sun dip below the horizon. Time feels like it’s slipping away, every moment dragging us closer to whatever Serge has planned. My resolve hardens. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect them, even if it means facing Serge head-on. He may think he’s won, but this game isn’t over yet.

Chapter Fifteen - Serge

The cabin is quiet save for the low hum of the jet engines. Outside, clouds stretch endlessly, their calm contrast to the tension crackling in the air. Across from me, Chiara sits stiffly, cradling Leo in her lap. His small hand rests against her chest, his face relaxed in sleep, completely unaware of the chaos surrounding him. Alyssa, seated in a leather chair nearby, swings her legs absently, glancing at me every so often. There’s curiosity in her gaze, but also wariness.

Chiara avoids my eyes, her focus pinned on the window as if the endless horizon holds all the answers she needs. It doesn’t. The answers are here, with me.

I break the silence, my voice low and deliberate. “When exactly were you going to tell me?”

Her head turns slightly, just enough to show the faint tightening of her jaw. “Tell you what?” she asks, her tone carefully guarded.

My fingers drum on the armrest, each tap echoing louder in the confined space. “Don’t insult me by playing dumb. About them. My children.”

She exhales slowly, her fingers brushing absently through Leo’s blond curls, her protective gesture igniting a mix of frustration and something deeper in me. “By the time I knew I was pregnant, it was too late to go back,” she says softly.

“Too late to go back?” I repeat, my voice sharper. “You mean too late to face me.”

Her hand stills on Leo’s head. “You would have destroyed everything,” she says, finally looking at me. Her voice quivers just slightly, but her gaze is steady. “Do you think I didn’t know what you’d do? You’d take them, twist them into something—”

“Something like me,” I finish for her, leaning forward.

Her silence speaks volumes.

“You had no right,” I say, my tone rising despite my effort to keep it measured. “No right to make that decision for me. You stole years from me, Chiara. From them.”

Her lips press together as her fingers curl around Leo’s hand. “You would have stolen them from me.”

The accusation hangs heavy in the air, and for a moment, we’re locked in a silent battle of wills. Then her voice rises, breaking the tension with a sharp edge.

“What do you even plan to do now, Serge?” she snaps. “Take them away from me, or keep them like trophies to prove some twisted point?”

I smirk, leaning back. “They’re my blood. My legacy. They’ll be raised by my side, under my protection. That’s non-negotiable.”

Her grip on Leo tightens as her eyes narrow. “What about me, am I just your prisoner now… part of the package deal?”

I study her for a moment, letting the question hang. “I won’t kill you,” I say finally, my voice calm. “It’s against our tradition to harm the mothers of our children.”

Her laugh is bitter. “Oh, how noble of you, Serge. Should I thank you for your mercy?”

“It’s not mercy,” I say, leaning forward again, my elbows resting on my knees. “It’s respect for bloodlines. For family. Something you should understand.”

She glares at me, her vulnerability stark against her defiance. For the first time, I see her weakness—not in her words or actions, but in the way her fingers cling to Leo as if letting go would break her. Her children are her Achilles’ heel. And now I know it.

“They’re all I have,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t take them from me.”

I lean back, my expression softening just slightly. “You’ll stay with me,” I command, leaving no room for argument. “That’s how this works.”

Her head shakes, the defiance returning. “You can’t just decide that. I have a life, Serge. They have a life.”

“Now that life is with me,” I say simply.

Her eyes dart to Alyssa, who’s now dozing in her seat, her head tilted at an awkward angle. “What kind of life will that be?” she asks, her voice cracking. “A gilded cage. A constant reminder of your power.”

I don’t answer immediately. Instead, I glance at Leo, at the way his features mirror my own. His existence should make me angrier, more resentful. It doesn’t. The anger that simmers in me isn’t aimed at him or Alyssa. It’s aimed at her. At her betrayal. At how easily she hid them from me.

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