Page 160 of The Bratva King

I’m on the floor with my back against the bed frame and Luke’s stegosaurus in my lap. Lila sits beside me, close enough to let me know that I’m not alone.

Nikolai opens the door.

My stomach drops. I know from the way his jaw is set that whatever he’s about to say is going to split me in two.

“Gabby.”

I’m already pushing to my feet. My legs are unsteady, but I find my balance. Lila stands beside me, her hand firm against my back.

“Tell me,” I say.

He looks into my eyes, and I understand this is deliberate. He’s anchoring me before the impact.

“Matteo is alive.”

My knees buckle. Lila catches me from behind as Nikolai pulls me into his arms.

“No. I watched him die.”

Even as I say it, I know it’s true. Some part of me has feared it since that first rose.

“It wasn’t him.” Nikolai pulls back enough to look at me. “He had someone on the inside. He was warned, and someone else was in that car.”

Greg knew there was a leak. Did he know Matteo was alive?

“I don’t understand,” I mumble.

“He’s been in Italy,” Nikolai says. “He came to Vegas a few months ago and saw you.”

“The man at my table. The woman at the center. He’s been watching me the whole time. I led him straight to Luke.”

Luke looks just like his father. I used to hold his face in my hands when he was a baby and search desperately for myself in his features. But he’s all Matteo.

“Where is he, Nik? Where’s my baby?”

He pulls me into his arms and buries his face in my hair. “I’ll get him back, Gabby. I swear to you, I will bring him home.”

“I can’t…”

I can’t finish the sentence.

“Gabby, look at me.” I look up at him. “He’s coming home.”

I believe him. That terrifies me almost as much as everything else.

He stays for another moment, with one hand cupping my face. His thumb brushes once over my cheekbone. Then he steps back, and I watch something in him shift. The man who loves me retreats, and something colder and more purposeful takes over.

“Lila will stay with you,” he says.

Then he’s gone, and the room falls silent. I force myself to breathe. In through my nose. Out through my mouth.

“Do you want to sit?” Lila asks.

“No.” The answer comes too fast. I look around the room. “I don’t know what I want.”

“How old is he?” she asks after a while.

“Four.” My throat tightens. “He’ll be five soon.”