Page 23 of Ruthless Daddies

My heart drops.

Luka looks hesitant, glancing back toward the playground, but the man says something to him, his face calm and smiling, and starts to lead him further away. Something about the scene feels off, wrong, and before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m moving—running.

“Luka!” I scream, my voice cutting through the playground noise like a siren.

Everything slows as I see the man turn, his face twisting with a mixture of surprise and irritation. He pulls Luka closer, his grip tightening on the boy’s arm as he tries to move faster. Luka struggles now, his eyes wide with fear as he looks back at me.

I don’t think—I just run. My legs pump harder, my lungs burning as I sprint across the playground, weaving through the chaos of children and panicked parents.

“Luka!” I scream again, my voice breaking. “Stop! Let him go!”

The man’s calm demeanor shatters, and suddenly, he pulls out a gun.

The sight of it freezes the world for a split second. Parents scream, children scatter, and my body moves on pure instinct, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Luka’s terrified face is all I can see.

I reach them just as the man raises the gun, grabbing Luka’s other arm and yanking him toward me with everything I have. The force pulls him out of the man’s grip, but the stranger reacts fast, shoving me hard. I stumble, hitting the ground, but I don’t let go of Luka, pulling him behind me, shielding him with my body as the man steps closer.

There’s shouting now, a mix of voices—panic, fear, and then a deeper, familiar voice cutting through the chaos.

Nikolai.

He’s running toward us, his face twisted with rage, and I see him draw his own gun, raising it toward the man. The stranger doesn’t hesitate. He fires.

The crack of the shot splits the air, and Nikolai jerks to the side, his arm snapping back. He staggers but doesn’t go down, quickly firing back instead. The man curses, ducking behind a tree, and I take the opportunity to grab Luka, pulling him into my arms as I scramble backward, desperate to get away from the gunfire.

Nikolai keeps advancing, his injured arm hanging at his side, blood staining his shirt. His expression is pure fury, his movements calculated even as the pain slows him down. Another shot rings out, this one missing by inches as he ducks and returns fire, his aim sharp and deliberate.

“Alice, get Luka out of here!” he shouts, his voice raw.

But I can’t move. My arms are wrapped tightly around Luka, his small body trembling against mine, and my mind races, trying to figure out how to get him to safety without drawing more attention. My eyes dart to the playground, where parents are still scrambling to gather their children, the scene a blur of chaos.

Then I feel a hand on my shoulder, strong and steady, and I look up to see one of Nikolai’s men standing over me, his face grim. “I’ve got him,” he says, pulling Luka from my arms and scooping him up with ease. “Go. Now.”

I hesitate, torn between staying and running, but another shot rings out, and the decision is made for me. I push myself to my feet, adrenaline propelling me forward as I follow them toward the car, glancing back over my shoulder to see Nikolai pressing forward, his movements relentless despite the blood dripping from his arm.

By the time we reach the car, my chest is heaving, my limbs shaking. Luka is safe, clinging to the man who carried him, his face buried in his shoulder. I can barely process what just happened, my mind still spinning as I watch Nikolai disappearing into the tree line in the distance. I can only pray that he remains safe.

10

NIKOLAI

The antiseptic smell of the doctor’s kit fills the air, sharp and cloying, as I sit shirtless on the edge of my bed, my arm outstretched. The bullet graze isn’t deep, but the skin around it burns, a raw, pulsing reminder of how close things came to going sideways.

The bullet barely grazed me, just a flesh wound, but the fact that it happened at all—the fact that I let the bastard get away—has me seething.

“Hold still, Nikolai,” Dr. Petrov mutters, his voice gruff as he finishes wrapping the wound. He’s been with the family for years, seen us through worse injuries than this.

I grit my teeth as the doctor dabs at the wound, my patience wearing thin. My mind is elsewhere—back at the park, replaying the chaos in my head, trying to figure out how the hell someone got that close to Luka without any of us noticing. It’s a failure, plain and simple, and the kind that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

“You’re lucky,” the doctor says, his tone too calm for my liking. “A fraction closer and it would’ve done real damage. As it is, you’ll just have a nasty scar.”

“Save the lecture,” I snap, barely glancing at him. “Just finish up.”

He doesn’t respond, just keeps working, but I feel Alice’s eyes on me from across the room. She hasn’t said a word since we got here, but her worry radiates off her in waves. She’s pacing near the window, her arms crossed, chewing on her bottom lip. Every few steps, she glances at me, her expression a mix of guilt and fear.

Uncle Alexei leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, his face a stony mask of disappointment. He hasn’t said much either, but his silence is louder than words.

“I should’ve caught him,” I say, breaking the tension. My voice is low, raw with frustration. “Whoever that bastard was, I should’ve ended it right there.”

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