Page 13 of Sinful Embers

“Isn’t he dead?” The question comes out more as wishful thinking than certainty. If they thought Vivienne, my father, and Uncle Gunther were bad… fuck, they should meet Dmitri. He brings a whole new meaning to sick, twisted, and megalomania. A jolt runs through me at the thought of Dmitri, and my eyesnarrow. “Dmitri does know this place very well. Before he was kicked out of the family, he spent a lot of time here in Vegas.”

“Dmitri Molchanov,” Sabrina mutters as she writes the name.

“No,” I correct her. “It’s Mirochin. He’s my mother’s younger brother.”

“Oh!” Sabrina nods, erasing the last name and rewriting it. She turns to Nikolas. “There, now, there are all the people who could be helping.” She taps next to where she’s written Unknown Enemies and a big red question mark. “Now your turn, Uncle Nik.” She caps the black pen and uncaps the green one. “Who are your enemies, or anyone you know who’s after Leigh?” Before he can answer, she writes Carlos posing as Nikolas. “Let’s put Mark here too since he hates you because he thinks you killed Thea.”

“I have more people than I can think of who would love to take me down,” Nikolas admits, his tone grim. “But this isn’t about me or what I do for a living.” He turns his chair slightly, watching Sabrina’s progress. “This is about taking control of five major entities with two key players in the middle of it all.”

His words send a shiver down my spine. I know he means Leigh and me.

Sabrina draws two interconnecting circles, one in black and one in green. In the middle, she writes Leigh in green and Radomir in black. She takes a brown pen and draws a curly bracket beneath them, writing Married at the point of the bracket. She stands for a moment, staring at the board, tapping the pen against her lips before turning to me.

“Who do you trust?” she asks, drawing a larger circle around both inner circles and looking at me pointedly.

I hesitate, the question cutting deeper than I expect. “Right now? Everyone in this room. That’s it.”

Sabrina scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I can see how hard that was for you to admit.”

“I see it this way,” I explain. “Only the three of us are invested in finding and getting Leigh back.” I turn to Nikolas. “You obviously love your daughter. You’ve been skulking in the shadows protecting her for years. You even sacrificed yourself, so she’d be safe, even at the cost of losing her.”

“She’s my Lulu-Petal,” Nikolas says softly, so quietly I almost don’t catch it. A strange pang runs through me at the love I see in his eyes—a love I would’ve given anything to see in my father’s. All I ever got from him was judgment and the occasional pat on the back when I did something he approved of.

My attention shifts to Sabrina. “And you, Sabrina, I could only wish for a friend as loyal as you are to Leigh.”

Her eyes shimmer, tears threatening to spill, but she gets her emotions under control quickly. “Thank you,” she says, her voice steady.

“And the instant you knew I was trying to help Leigh the other night, you extended that trust to me.” I pause, the memory still humbling. “You didn’t know what would happen to you, and you know my reputation, yet you didn’t hesitate to jump into the fire to help Leigh.”

“That’s our Sabrina,” Nikolas says, pride evident in his tone, as if she were his own daughter. “She’s always been like this.”

“The two of you obviously trust each other,” I say, pointing between Sabrina and Nikolas. “I’m guessing not many people know you’re alive, Nikolas.” I glance at Sabrina. “And from what I can gather, you’ve known about his secret since you were a kid.”

“And both she and Leigh have kept it,” Nikolas adds with a soft laugh. “Although Leigh does have dissociative amnesia. But even before she lost her memories, Leigh and Sabrina didn’t say a word to anyone since they were…” He frowns, glancing at Sabrina for confirmation.

“We were six,” Sabrina reminds him. “Well, that’s the first time I met you.” She turns back to the board, writing at the top of the larger circle in brown: Trust: Sabrina and Nikolas. At the bottom in red, she writes: Common Enemy: Ice Man and Wanda Manning—Iceman Industries. Then, returning to Leigh’s section, she writes Greek Monarch in parentheses beside Carlos and jots down Alexandra Vasilikis (Greek Matriarch).

“Wanda Manning has a Russian oligarch husband,” I tell them, frowning. “How does the Ice Man connect to my family?”

“Fuck!” Nikolas suddenly hisses, his voice tight. He’s staring at the laptop, his fingers tapping the touchpad. He spins the screen toward Sabrina and me. “The night of the poker game—did you notice these two?”

Nikolas points to two men in the hotel foyer on the security footage.

“Yes.” Nodding, I explain how Enzo Fabri’s son, Luca, had been tracking those men because they killed Enzo.

“What?” Nikolas sputters, his face paling. “Enzo’s dead?” His expression hardens. “And Luca’s sure these are the men who killed him?”

“Yes.” I nod, my tone firm. “They’re Greek Special Forces.” I narrow my eyes, wondering why Nikolas looks so alarmed. “They’re your mother’s men. Luca said they infiltrated the game looking for Mark because he has something your mother—the Greek Matriarch—wants.”

“No!” Nikolas’s jaw tightens as he zooms in on one of the men’s necks. “See that tattoo sticking out beneath his collar?”

“Yes,” Sabrina and I say in unison.

“That’s a hydra.” Nikolas pinches the bridge of his nose, his expression grim. “Are you sure Luca said these were the men who killed Enzo?”

Nodding, I ask, “Why do I feel like I’m not going to like where this is going?”

Sabrina leans closer, her brows knitting together as she examines the footage. “Are you sure they’re Greek Special Forces?” She glances at me.

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