Page 55 of Obsession of the Bratva

“It means you’re treating your own pain like it matters less.”

I didn’t have an answer for that because maybe she was right. Maybe I had spent so much time feeling guilty that I forgot I was hurting too. Eventually, she spoke again.

“You need to tell him the truth.”

I immediately shook my head. “No.”

“You can’t keep hiding it forever.”

“Watch me.”

“That’s not a plan.”

“It is if I never tell him.”

Ava groaned, and I almost smiled. Almost. Then reality returned, which included my father and the threat he had delivered. The reason this entire nightmare existed. Fear settled heavily inside my stomach.

“What if it’s too late?”

“It isn’t.”

“What if he hates me anyway?”

A long silence followed, and then Ava answered quietly.

“Then at least he’ll hate the real version of you.”

The words stayed with me long after the call ended. Eventually, I hid the burner phone exactly where I found it and returned to my room. The house somehow felt different now. Not because anything had changed, but perhaps because I had. For the first time since all of this started, I knew what I wanted.

Not freedom. Not escape. Not distance.

Just Nico.

The realization terrified me because wanting something and getting it were very different things. Especially when that something was Nico Romanov.

But I was nothing if determined.

Chapter 13 - Nico

“You need to come see this, boss.” Those were the first words Viktor said when he called me.

Nothing more. Nothing less. But his tone was enough for me to know that something was clearly amiss. I was already reaching for my keys before the call ended. The warehouse stood near the edge of the docks, isolated enough to conduct business without attracting attention and close enough to the water to move merchandise efficiently. By the time I arrived, the situation had already been contained.

The fire was put out, but large clouds of smoke continued to rise in the sky. Gray haze still lingered in the night air, curling upward from blackened metal and shattered concrete. Emergency crews weren’t present like they would have been for any general civilian disaster. But Romanov problems were handled by Romanovs only. We didn’t need help. Our soldiers were parked everywhere, and the situation was already under control.

I stepped out of the SUV and immediately caught the scent of burned fuel.

Someone had wanted to send a message. The damage wasn’t catastrophic but rather calculated, and that was what made it worse. A few of our men moved through the perimeter, securing evidence and assessing structural integrity. Others stood guard. If someone had done this to give a warning, it was only likely that they would have left a trademark for recognition purposes. This was how things worked in the bratva world.

Nobody looked relaxed.

Viktor appeared beside me, dressed in his usual black attire. He smelled of smoke and fire, which told me he had been here for a while now. His expression was hard, and I could see he was pissed.

“They were careful in making sure the damage wasn’t a lot. Once again, the tracking of staff was done well, and they sent very few men to do the deed.”

“When did it happen?”

“About two hours ago.”