Page 42 of Bratva Baby

I clench my teeth. “What do you want?”

“Details. Grigor’s schedule, his routines, any weaknesses or vulnerable points that might interest the Irish. They need leverage to keep him in check if he ever tries to double-cross them.”

“I don’t understand. If Grigor is working with the Irish Mob, why would they want information on him?”

“You know as well as I do that this line of business is treacherous. Alliances are fleeting. Men like the Barkovs and the Irish are ruthless and ambitious. Sooner or later, they’ll turn on each other. They want the upper hand, and if they can get it, they won’t hesitate. It’s a matter of time.”

My heartbeat thunders in my ears. “So that’s the plan? Hand them everything about Grigor so they can control him? And if I do this, Cecily is safe?”

He nods, though he keeps his gaze averted. “Yes, for the moment. If the Irish have enough power over Barkov, they’ll leave your sister alone.”

I glance at the cavernous walls around me, feeling trapped. Father’s logic is twisted, but if he’s telling the truth about Cecily being in danger, can I ignore that? I think of Grigor’s last phone call, how he asked me about my day, how his voice sounded rough with leftover affection from our last night together. He has no clue I’m standing here, about to hand over everything he’s built.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper, my voice wavering.

“You will,” Father counters coldly. “Unless you want Cecily gone. They’re not bluffing, Seraphina. They’ll snatch her off the streets the second I fail them.”

Guilt claws at my insides. My loyalty to Grigor battles with my love for Cecily. He’s done so much for me, protected me from Father’s rage, and made me feel safe in a life that’s anything but. And now I’m about to deliver him to the enemy.

“Fine,” I mutter. “But if I do this, you make sure Grigor isn’t harmed.”

“Why do you care so much if he’s harmed? He’s a killer, Seraphina. He’ll toss you aside if you become inconvenient.”

“That’s none of your concern,” I snap. “Promise me or the deal is off.”

He scoffs and turns away before pacing a short line on the concrete floor. “Always so stubborn. If he’s caught in the crossfire of politics, that’s out of my hands.”

“Try,” I insist. “Do your best to ensure he doesn’t end up dead because of my betrayal.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t talk like it’s love, Seraphina. This is survival, pure and simple. You’re picking your sister over that savage. That’s all.”

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. “I hate you for this.”

“Hate me all you want. Hate never killed a man, but the Irish will if you fail. So pray this is enough to keep Cecily safe.”

A suffocating silence envelops us. My stomach lurches with guilt. I picture Grigor’s face—stern, brooding, and sometimes surprisingly gentle. He’d be furious if he saw me here. He might never forgive me.

“Goodbye, Father,” I murmur, turning on my heel.

He doesn’t say a word as I open the warehouse door and step into the evening light. My chest feels hollow, and my legs feel unsteady. I manage to call a taxi to get back, but I can’t stop replaying the conversation in my head.

The driver leaves me at a side street, and I walk the final block to Grigor’s estate, crossing the garden gate with my heart pounding. Any minute, Anton might appear, furious that I slipped away. Or worse, Grigor could have returned early, discovered my absence, and demanded answers.

But the backyard is empty with no sign of pursuit. Maybe I got lucky. I skirt around to the back door and let myself in quietly. The house is still with the staff presumably finishing their routines. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I jump, afraid it’s Father again or, God forbid, Grigor. But it’s just a news alert. I silence it, not trusting myself to read anything right now.

I climb the stairs, each step heavier than the last. Guilt gnaws at me like a persistent rodent.He must not be harmed.That was my one plea. But Father’s twisted grin suggests hemight not honor it. If the Irish are determined to control Grigor, they might do more than posture—they might aim to remove him entirely.

When I make it to my room, my reflection in the mirror catches my eye. I see a woman with dark circles under her eyes and guilt etched into every line of her face.I betrayed him.The thought is relentless, pulsing in my head. After everything Grigor did—after he broke into my father’s mansion, after he risked a confrontation with him to protect me—I repaid him by agreeing to sell him out to the Irish.

Chapter 18 - Grigor

I want to break something. The urge rushes through me the instant I see the updated tracker log on Seraphina’s phone. The faint blinking icon marks a location she visited two nights ago—some rundown spot near the docks. I zoom in on the map for the hundredth time, tightening my grip around the device. She slipped out while I was away and ignored every safety measure I put in place.

“Grigor,” Dmitri calls from the doorway. “We found more data. Looks like she stayed there for about thirty minutes.”

I set the phone aside and turn to face my brothers. Dmitri stands beside Aleksei and Maksim. They’re waiting for my reaction, trying to gauge whether I’ll fly into a rage or handle this calmly. I can’t promise which one I’ll go with.

“Give me the details,” I say, pushing my anger down so I can think.

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