Page 46 of Bratva Baby

“It’s not about trust,” I fire back, though even as I say it, I realize how empty that sounds. Everything is about trust in this world. “I… I didn’t want you to get caught up in my father’s mess. But it’s real, Grigor. The Irish are pulling strings, and Fyodor might be part of a plan to take you out.”

His shoulders tense. “Take me out, or set me up?”

“Both, possibly. My father owes them a debt. They want leverage on you. If Fyodor claims to have found the killer, it could be a perfect lure to corner you or to shift blame onto someone else like my father in a way that benefits the Irish. I’m not sure which angle they’re working, but I know it’s dangerous.”

He exhales, setting his hand on the doorknob as though itching to leave anyway. “You think I don’t know that? I saw through Fyodor’s story the moment he called. He’s never been reliable.”

I blink, surprised. “You… You knew?”

His mouth sets in a grim line. “I suspected. Now, thanks to your last-minute confession, I have confirmation. Why, Seraphina? Why were you helping your father? After everything he’s done to you, why choose him over me? Yourhusband?”

This time, his question isn’t demanding, not angry, just… genuine. For the first time, he’s asking, not accusing. And somehow, that makes the answer harder to say.

“It’s Cecily,” I manage through a tight throat. “He’s using her to control me. He said if I didn’t cooperate… if I didn’t give him what he needed, he’d hurt her. Marry her off to someone worse than you—or worse, let the Irish take her to make a point.”

I pause, watching his expression harden. I know he lost his sister to this world. She was murdered before she had a chance to escape it. The memory of that loss must be goingthrough his mind right now, and I find myself praying he’ll understand. That he’ll see why I had no choice, even if it doesn’t excuse what I’ve done.

“You think cooperating with him will protect her?” he asks after a moment. “That man only looks out for himself.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I force them back. “What was I supposed to do, Grigor? I couldn’t risk her being dragged into this. She’s innocent.”

“And you thought betraying me would solve that?” His voice stays calm, but there’s a rough edge underneath it. “You thought your father could be trusted to keep his word?”

I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling exposed. “I didn’t know what else to do. He’s my father. She’s my sister. I—”

“You’re torn,” he finishes, cutting me off but not unkindly. “You’ve been backed into a corner, and you don’t trust me enough to believe I could help.”

I look away as the guilt prickles at my skin. He’s right. I didn’t trust him—not the way I should’ve. I thought I could manage this on my own, that protecting Cecily meant keeping him out of it. But now, standing here with the truth between us, I realize how badly I miscalculated.

My voice feels small when I speak. “You said you knew this was a trap. Does that mean… You’re not going to walk right into it?”

He studies me for a moment, probably wondering if he can trustmeto answer honestly or if I’m just going to feed his answer back to my father. “I’m still going,” he finally answers, “but on my terms. If this is a trap, I’ll be the one springing it.”

I press a hand to my chest. “I can’t let you do that alone. Let me help.”

“Absolutely not. You’ll stay here, under guard, like we agreed.”

“Grigor, I can’t stand by if they’re trying to kill you. Let me come along. Maybe I can glean something from them, or distract them.”

“No.” His tone is final. “I don’t trust your father, or the Irish, or Fyodor. And I sure as hell won’t risk you being caught in the middle.”

Tears threaten to well again, but I blink them back. “You’re risking yourself.”

He brushes my cheek with a gentleness at odds with his stormy mood. “That’s my job. Protecting you is also my job. Stay here. That’s an order.”

I want to argue, to beg him not to go, but I sense the futility. He’s made up his mind. “Fine. But promise me you won’t get yourself killed.”

A wry smile ghosts across his lips. “I’m not so easy to kill.”

He leans in to press a kiss on my forehead. The unexpected tenderness nearly undoes me. “I’ll be back,” he whispers before stepping away.

I watch him stride down the steps, calling for a car. His men snap to attention at his command, as they always do. If he’s heading into a viper’s den, even with a plan, anything can happen. But there’s nothing I can do except wait.

***

I pace the living room after he leaves, with the clock ticking loudly in my head. The staff tries to offer me dinner, tea, anything to calm me. I can’t even think about eating. Each moment drags as I imagine every terrible scenario. My father’s threats, Fyodor’s cunning, the Irish mob’s ruthlessness—none of it bodes well.

Guilt coils through me. I was so fixated on saving Cecily that I didn’t consider the cost to Grigor. And now, if something goes wrong tonight, it’ll be on my conscience forever.

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