Page 12 of Sinful Embers

She’s about to reach for the journal beside me, and before I can retort—or Sabrina’s fingers hit the cover—Nikolas moves at the speed of light and snatches it. Sabrina immediately stiffens, her brow furrowing as anger clouds her blue eyes.

“What the fuck, Uncle Nik?” she snaps, her eyes narrowing.

Nikolas meets her gaze with the same calm authority that makes even my men tread carefully around him. “I can’t let either of you see this before we’ve discussed…” His voice trails off awkwardly as he glances pointedly at me. “A few things.”

“That’s bullshit,” Sabrina fires back. “What are you trying to protect us from?” She slams her hands on her hips.

She’s small enough to go unnoticed in most rooms, but her fury makes her seem as towering as Oleksi himself. And I’ve seen her penchant for blowing things up.

“Rina…” Nikolas warns her, his voice dropping to a tone that would make most men realize they’re crossing a line. But not Sabrina. The woman has absolutely no fucking fear. “There are things in here that—"

“Are X-rated?” Her brows shoot up. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Uncle Nik, but I’m no longer an innocent tween and haven’t been since I watched my father’s head explode when a bullet—I now know was meant for me—hit him between the eyes.”

“What the fuck, Sabrina?” My heart lurches as I look at her. “That’s why you no longer like going to your father’s cabin.”

“Something like that.” She glances at me and turns back to Nikolas. “And besides, I’ve read all the bitch’s other journals, and as you know, I don’t forget—a thing. So I already know Vivienne was a fucking narcissistic, hedonistic, sadistic, perverted whore!” Her eyes drop to the journal. “She got her rocks off fucking Gun…”

“Enough!” Nikolas’s voice is barely raised, but it feels like the room shakes. His eyes turn greener than I thought possible as they bore into Sabrina. “That is not the way to approach this. While you may have read the other journals”—his eyes fall on me—“Radomir has not.”

I lean back in my chair, studying Nikolas. “What’s in the journals?” My voice is calm, but the edge in it is unmistakable.

Nikolas hesitates, then says carefully, “Vivienne, Vladimir, and Gunther were... close.”

“Close?” Sabrina scoffs, her lip curling as she turns to me. “Vivienne was fucking your uncle and father. They had regular threesomes while torturing someone—or their latest ‘plaything’ in what Vivienne termed your father’s pleasure dungeon. They’d record it, and she’d always take a copy to play over and over again—probably to masturbate by.” She shudders and makes a gagging face. “God, that’s so gross to even think about. But then, I guess it’s no worse than the twisted shit she documented in her journals.”

I shouldn’t be that surprised by her words, but they still hit me like a punch to the gut. I keep my expression neutral. I’ve heard whispers about my father and Gunther’s proclivities—rumors I dismissed as exaggerations because the staff and people were scared of them. Hearing it from Sabrina, however, feels different.

Nikolas doesn’t react to her words, but the tightening of his jaw tells me he’s struggling to hold his composure. “We don’t need to focus on that right now,” he says, his tone clipped. “We have bigger problems.”

I nod, pushing past the bile rising in my throat. “Like the fact that someone in my organization might be working against me—and that’s how they got to Leigh.”

Sabrina walks back around the desk and picks up four pens: red, green, black, and blue. Then she walks to the board, waiting for me.

Nikolas raises an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Two days ago, another one of my trucks was hit,” I say, taking a steadying breath. My gaze flicks to Sabrina as I explain what’s been happening over the past two years—the sporadic attacks that have steadily escalated, especially over the last month. “Viktor suspects Daniil, the driver, might be involved. Every shipment Daniil was responsible for, or every warehouse he oversaw restocking, ended up being attacked—always after his involvement, as if the targets were chosen deliberately.”

Sabrina separates the board into four partitions. In black, she writes Molchanov, in green, she writes Leigh, in red, she writes Enemy, and in blue, she writes Other. Under Molchanov, she jots down Daniil, his sister, and a few other names I rattle off.

“Viktor and Judy uncovered more of my trusted staff members than I’m comfortable with, who were working against me.” I rub my temple, the tension building as I continue. “Seeing my safe at the estate opened—and knowing there aren’t many people who know about the helipad door from this apartment either…” My words trail off. Voicing my fear makes it feel too real.

Sabrina’s eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t interrupt, her pen darting across the board as she jots a few more points.Nikolas remains silent, his sharp gaze fixed on me, waiting for me to finish.

“After Leigh was taken, I can’t ignore the possibility that someone in my inner circle—someone who knew about my safes and the secret door to the helipad—might be feeding information to Carlos.”

The weight of my own words hangs in the air, pressing down like a lead weight. For a moment, the room feels oppressively silent.

Nikolas leans back, his expression unreadable. “Who is your inner circle?”

I rattle off names: Oleksi, Gavriil—my cousins. They’re blood, and I hate even having to name them. But my mother learned the hard way that sometimes it’s those closest to you who are the most dangerous.

“Viktor, Judy, Temur, Fredrik, Gunner, Dolph, and Sergei,” I add, rubbing my chin. “Then there’s my mother, Galina, and my grandfather, Boris Mirochin.”

“I thought your inner circle would’ve been just you!” Sabrina snorts, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t big bad Bratva kings only trust themselves?”

“Funny.” I shake my head, though she isn’t wrong. In my world, there really isn’t anyone you can trust one hundred percent. But it’s nice to fool yourself into thinking there are those you can count on.

“What about Dmitri?” Nikolas asks, glancing at the names Sabrina has scrawled on the board.

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