Page 49 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

“Before we go further, there’s something I need to tell you. Something personal. Something I’ve debated sharing for a while now.”

My body tenses. “What kind of something?”

“My best friend,” she says slowly, “is Katarina. Katarina Sokolov. You might know her as?—”

“Katarina Volkov.” The words hit like a slap. My stomach flips. “Your best friend is married to Nikolai Volkov?”

“Yes,” she replies, voice steady. “She’s Vasiliy’s sister-in-law. I wanted you to hear it from me. I didn’t want this connection to catch you off guard.”

It already has.

My entire body goes cold. The phone burns hot against my ear. Of course. Of course they’re circling. Watching. Hunting. Mila was never just a therapist. She’s a window into me. A way in.

“Why now?” I whisper. “Why tell me this now?”

“Because I wanted to be transparent,” she says. “Because I care. And because I need you to understand—I know this world better than you think. I’m not just some outsider taking notes. I’ve seen it. Lived alongside it. And I still chose to be here for you.”

My throat tightens. “Or you’re just the next person they’ve sent to keep tabs on me.”

“That’s not true.” Her voice doesn’t waver. “I’ve never reported anything you’ve said. I would never betray that trust.”

I pace the alley, phone clutched tight. My breath comes fast and shallow. I want to believe her. God, I want to.

But trust? In this world?

It’s suicide.

“Tell me how this helps me,” I snap. “Tell me why this isn’t a threat wrapped in concern.”

“I’m telling you because I want to help,” Mila says quietly. “Because you’re spiraling. And because you’re not alone.”

The words cut deeper than I expect. I turn and press my hand to the wall, trying to stay grounded. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” she says. “You just have to stay steady. Start by breathing. You’re strong, Galina. You’ve survived worse than this.”

Have I?

“I need to go,” I whisper, suddenly exhausted. “I just…I need space.”

“I understand. Just promise me you’ll call when you’re ready. And remember you’re not alone in this. I mean that.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, ending the call.

But as I lower the phone, the pit in my stomach only deepens. I bend at the waist, breathing hard. The heat, the noise, the weight of the conversation—it all presses down like a storm.

And when the next wave hits, it’s all dry heaving and quiet sobs. Nothing left to give. Nothing left to lose.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like a weapon, daughter or lover.

I just feel broken.

Chapter 15

Love Like a Loaded Gun

Vasiliyi

Igor doesn’t knock. He never does. But today, he doesn’t even pretend to play civilized. He barrels into my office like a battering ram, the door slamming so hard it makes the walls flinch.

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