Page 110 of Baby for the Bratva King

My heart fills with darkness, pulse slowing right down. I stare at the pulsating dot on the screen, waiting for it to move. But it doesn’t.

No more wasting time.

I rise from the seat and shoulder past Gabriel, heading straight out.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“She’s too innocent.”

“Too dead, more like.”

“We don’t know for sure.”

“She’s a liability for her father, and your stunt earlier with the media probably made everything worse. Declaring your love for one woman? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Too fucking right.”

“No,” I bark while tucking a knife under my belt. “All I do is think. I plan ahead, always thinking about the consequences, never acting on impulse—because there’s never anything to act impulse above. I keep my head down. I work. Where is the fucking joy in that?”

“There’s no joy in responsibility."

“And no passion without a little pain.” I secure the knife under my belt and fly out of the house.

Gabriel is still following me around like a bad smell. He jumps into the passenger side before I can lock the door, securing his seatbelt.

“Get out.”

“Why? You’re walking into suicide.”

“If I don’t make it, you take the throne and lead the Pozharskys.”

“When I swore allegiance to my pakhan and promised to defend his rights and wrongs?” Gabriel tosses me a sidelong glance, like he’s not happy about this. “I’m coming with you.”

I start the engine, slamming the foot on the gas.

The chest pains become worse as I think about losing my Honeysuckle. I always survive. It’s the people around me who suffer.

That’s the price I pay for staying at the top and dominating the underground market. I keep my power, my name, but I lose everything good and real.

And what am I left with? A Porsche? The best real estate in all of New York? Power means nothing when you have no one to share it with. I can’t go back in darkness after seeing the fruits of the earth, knowing how sweet they taste.

I never knew I was capable of loving someone so passionately. But there’s no after when it comes to Saskia—only a during.

30

SASKIA

“Don’t, Saskia,” shouts Fleur as she struggles against two of my father’s men.

I rake a hand through my hair, hating my father for putting me in this situation, and hating myself for being annoyed.

Family comes before career. Even though I have a chance to build my own success, Fleur comes first.

“If you save me, we both live in misery.”

“And I spend the rest of my life mourning you.”