MariaI hate him. I have to if I want to survive. I don't dare look at Mikhail or I'll weaken. If I do, I'll try to find something decent in him worth hanging on to. My mind will spin his bad behavior into something good. I'll argue his savage behavior is evidence that he really does love me. I can't do that. I have to keep my head together and ignore my own fickle feelings. Fucking baby hormones.Mikhail lets me go and I rub my wrist, though it doesn't hurt. Maybe it's childish, but I want to rub the feeling of him off me. I toss the phone onto the desk, ashamed when I stare at the desktop, and instantly, I remember what we did there as if seeing it all again.I'm still reeling from everything that happened. The gunshot and then my dad's voice."Ippolit is dead, and I'm coming for you."The relief when I heard his voice was immense, but it quickly turned to dread. As long as I'm captive, my dad will retaliate against Mikhail and the Ivanov Bratva. And I know there's only one way it c
MariaDominika appears with my food. The silver tray is loaded with food—a bowl of vegetable soup, a toasted artisan roll, and a generous portion of roasted chicken on a plate surrounded by grilled vegetables.The smell of hot soup fills the room, followed by the aroma of garlic and rosemary from the chicken. My stomach gurgles as the delicious aroma invades my nose. I'm so hungry, and even if I wasn't, the baby needs something. I stare at the tempting tray, and my stomach gurgles loudly as I stand up.A glass of chilled white wine accompanies the meal.I stare at Dominika. She knows my secret, so why did she make that mistake?"Can I have tea?" I ask her. "And I would prefer to eat in my room.""No," Mikhail tells Dominika as she reaches for the tray. "I want to make sure she eats it."Dominika picks up the tray. "I will sit with her."I don't say anything. I don't tell Mikhail that I don't think I can stomach a whole meal with him in the room."Fine." Mikhail scowls at me as if I'm
Mikhail"Is your phone on?"Maria looks up from her breakfast but doesn't answer me. Her expression is hesitant, with a dash of resentment, as her spoon hovers over her cereal. I frown at the glutinous mess of oatmeal clinging to it, and her gaze shifts down before she quickly shoves it in her mouth."How's your stomach feeling?" I ask, checking my watch as if the time is more important than her. Maria has on the simple white dress the staff wears, and I wonder if she's trying to make a statement that I treat her more like them than as an equal."Why?" She watches me with her big hazel eyes. Despite everything, that innocence hasn't completely left her yet, but it will. After her father dies, she'll have to learn how to survive on her own.I learned, and she will too."You had a rough night." I act uncaring and shrug my shoulders.Maria glares at me as she loads up another spoonful. "Dominika made this for me. It's overnight oats with chia seeds. She says I'll need my strength if I'm
MikhailSilence dominates the stuffy room as concrete trucks barrel past the double-hung windows, heading toward the long, towering chutes. We watch from the window as the truck is lined up beneath the chute before the concrete is poured. The large barrel spins methodically, taking a little sting out of my building anger.I shake my head, clenching my teeth. "You spoke before I arrived."Alexander holds his palms up as if to calm me down. The condescending gesture only makes me angrier. "We could hardly ignore a pakhan while we waited," he replies.I fix him with a blistering look. "You've had plenty of practice ignoring your own."Gunsyn steps forward. "Mikhail Ivanov, we were only discussing the present situation while we waited. All facts you already know."I raise my finger to silence him. "Funny how we all found out at the same time, but you arrived here first."Alexander sighs. "We heard a rumor that led us to Twin Rivers. We didn't want to spread lies until we knew it was true.
MikhailI shut the office door, staring at the envelope as I walk to my desk. The tape is too thick for my silver letter opener, so I have to open it with a box cutter. A burner phone falls on the desk, and I press the button on the side.There's only one number in the contacts.A voice answers as soon as I call it. "Mikhail Ivanov?""Yes," I recognize the voice, but I want him to confirm it. "Who's speaking?"Laughter erupts as the man throws back his head. "Luigi Bianchi, your old friend."I smirk. "Not dead yet?""I guess you'll have to do it yourself," he replies smoothly. "My boss, Christian Genovesi, sends a message.""Not in person?" I ask."I like the rest of my fingers," he says. "And my orders are to kill you the next time I see you. So, you can see how that presents some ... difficulties." He sighs. "But to business. The woman you're holding matters a great deal to Genovesi. You've made him very angry. And the threats you made ... made him even angrier." Bianchi laughs. "So
MariaI was told to wear a pretty dress, not by him, but by Dominika.She tried to make it sound like something fun that every woman would be thrilled to do, dressing up for my pakhan. But my life isn't a game. Not when it's being controlled by people who are in the business of murder.So, I'm determined to spite Mikhail and chose a bright red evening dress with a deep, plunging neckline that leaves nothing to the imagination. The color clashes with my hair, but I don't care. I swirl in front of the triple mirrors on the closet wall. I look like a she-devil sent to torture him. I stop moving around and frown at my reflection. It looks more like a Halloween costume than an avenging dark angel.Mikhail has made it clear that we're to take meals together. It's his way of checking on me and not delegating it like last time. So, when he returns home from trying to murder people, we sit down together in his office for a meal. I flush every time I see the desk and think of all the things I s
Mikhail"What do you want?" My teeth grit into a scowl as Gunsyn grins at the scene he abruptly interrupted. Maria takes an instinctive step back at the sight of him leering at us— at her. But her expression isn't fearful. Her wary gaze is alert, and her hands are clenched in fists.She's changed. She's no longer so easily intimidated by dangerous men around her.Instinctively, I wrap my hand around her upper arm, guiding her past Gunsyn and toward the open door. Putting distance between them is necessary for her protection. I give him a look to convey my thought—you better not try to take her again. Holding onto Maria tight, I scan the living room for Alexander, then coax her out the door when I see he's not around."Go," I tell her a little too harshly, as if Gunsyn being here is her fault. A gentle push toward the stairs earns me a nasty glare from Maria.Gunsyn steps toward the open door, and his crude gaze flicks up and down Maria's body. He knows better than to touch her, but he
MikhailA dark thought flits across my mind—one that ends with my hands wrapped around her delicate throat and squeezing until the light in her golden hazel eyes is blotted out.My hands tremble at the thought. My heart races.Can I?"Mikhail." Maria's voice breaks through my thoughts, and she's standing in the doorway—still in that tantalizing red dress. She takes a few steps forward, and her gaze locks on mine. "What did Gunsyn want?" she asks quietly. "What did he tell you?"I sit up in my chair and glare at Maria as if my blood has been replaced with venom. "I told you to go."Maria swallows hard as a frail courage makes her stand firm. "Did he say anything about my father?"I stand, moving toward her, my mind screaming at me to stop. "Go."Maria backs away. "If you talked to my father ... I promise?—""Promise? You?" I snap, grabbing her by the shoulders and squeezing tight. "It doesn't bother you that your father is a traitor to the Bratva, a traitor who's responsible for my bro
MariaThe scent of blooming lilacs fills the air as I stand on the terrace at the Barinov Estate. Their home is the perfect backdrop for me and Mikhail to exchange our vows. Spring has arrived, and with it, a sense of rebirth. The rose garden is in bloom with lavender and pink roses that scent the misty air as I hurry across the lawn and enter an opulent ballroom.The chandeliers cast circles of light on the polished floor, and the sheer drapes billow over the casement windows. I smile at the murals of angels painted on the ceiling above my head and soak in the joy that being here gives me. The staff starts to hurry in to set the room up for our nuptials, and maybe I should go upstairs to change.Dad stands in the main hall dressed in a tux. The tiredness has left his expression, and he looks younger now that we have no secrets. I hurry over to him and hug him tight. He holds me, but his smile is tinged with sadness. "Maria, I spoke to Mikhail. I'll be announcing my retirement from th
MikhailTHREE MONTHS LATER"Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask Maria. Though it had nothing to do with me, I feel responsible. It was my Bratva that murdered Maria's mother. Men that my father trusted."Yes," she replies, staring straight ahead. "I have to have closure."We've traveled to the area where Aria was killed behind a safe house. Zakhar leads the way, searching for the spot. The tall maple trees surround the isolated house with boarded-up windows. Behind it, a faint path winds its way deeper into the woods, and overgrown bushes make it a challenge not to get lost. Eventually, the path leads to a small clearing containing a rotting tree stump.There's an eerie silence hanging over the area, as if nature was holding its breath. I take a deep breath in and stare at the tangled branches high over our heads. Maria stands beside me, her hand trembling in mine."We separated here." Zakhar stops beside the unassuming tree stump. It doesn't look like it should be anyone's final
MariaThe delivery room is a battleground, and I'm the one fighting for a life. Sweat beads on my forehead as another contraction rips through me. My fingers grip Mikhail's hand tightly, seeking comfort in the strength of his grip. I feel his concern like an electric current crackling between us as he says words of encouragement, urging me on."Push, Maria. You're almost there," he says. His voice is strong and steady, even though worry is etched into his handsome features. Those intense eyes have seen so much violence and bloodshed, and now they're fixed on me. Mikhail has been by my side every step of the way, our relationship forged in danger. And now, we're about to create something beautiful out of it all."Maria, you're doing great," Dr. Galano chimes in, her tone professional but warm. "One more big push and you'll meet your daughter."My body tenses with the effort, and I think back to how we got here. Nights spent tangled in each other's arms, trying to forget the chaos of th
MikhailThe room is silent as Zakhar reveals the pain he has felt for decades while hiding himself and Maria away. He sits down heavily, and I place a hand on his shoulder, understanding his desperation for his daughter and accepting the honor of his blessing.Sorokin slams the gavel down again and says, "I'm glad to know that you will willingly accept your fate, Zakhar Sergeyevich." He looks at Maria and me, his lip set in a scowl. But then Sorokin glances away and hesitates, almost as if he regrets what he has to say. "The oath has been broken, and our original judgment stands ..."Maria stiffens and reaches for my hand. "No," she whispers, "I can't lose everything I love. I won't." She looks at me, her eyes wide and desperate for reassurance. "Mikhail ... no."Behind us the doors burst open, and Zhanna strides in, flanked by several women of the Bratva. Paige Barinov, Natasha Chuikov, Sonia Karamazov, and my own sister, Larissa. The men fall silent as the women make their way towar
MikhailWe agreed to meet on neutral territory, and the Poconos was mentioned briefly, but the Barinov Estate was chosen instead.The drive through the woods reminds me too much of driving to Sorokin's castle, but I'm relieved when two large gates open, revealing a red brick mansion. Yes, the sprawling structure is formidable, but the house is trimmed in holiday lights, and the remnants of a snowman guard the front door.The mansion has a lightness to it, which brings hope. Bright light floods the hall, bouquets decorate every table I pass, and the white marble floors are cleaned to a high gloss. Views of the gardens covered in snow are visible from the window, and a few children play outside, bundled up against the cold.I'm led by a guard to the furthest wing of the house, where I find a set of double doors. I feel hopeful until I'm shown into the dining room. My heart sinks as if it were tied to a boulder and thrown into the ocean. Contrary to my expectation of a bright and open sp
MariaThe dark road seems familiar to me, but I'm not sure why I have this feeling of déjà vu. "Where are we going?" I ask my father as his truck navigates through traffic past the dirty piles of snow."Back to the inn," replies Dad. "We've been requested to come to a meeting." Dad's mouth is tight as he concentrates on the route.My heart skips a beat, but I keep my warring emotions inside."You don't look happy about it," I reply softly."Sorokin knows how Gunsyn died," he replies. "Mikhail and I are oath breakers. Sorokin has every right to kill us both. But we're getting a hearing instead.""That's good, isn't it?" I ask, confused."Yes and no." Dad sighs loudly as he slows down for the exit. "Maria, you have to accept that things might not end in our favor. If something happens to me, you're to go live with your uncle Vito. The feud is over, so you'll both be safe.""Nothing bad will happen." I lower my voice and grip the seat to steady my nerves. "You and Mikhail did what you sa
MariaCHRISTMAS NIGHTIt's only eight thirty on Christmas night, and all day I haven't been in the mood for presents or holiday cheer. I finally give up and go upstairs to sit by my bedroom window. I don't have the energy or desire to do more than watch the snowflakes fall gently to the ground below. I glance over at the closed door and feel a little guilty for not being downstairs. But I can't imagine Dad is too eager to keep celebrating either. The last time I saw him he was sitting in the kitchen listening to a true crime podcast.I take a look around at the hot pink walls, the neatly arranged art books, and the plush stuffed animals on my twin bed.Nothing's changed in my pretty cage, except for me.Soon, I'll have a little girl of my own. I stare at the latest sonogram pictures again and that's the only thing that makes me smile.The world outside is cold and unforgiving, but it's warm and safe in here. In Holtsville, my father will keep me safely tucked away from what's out ther
MikhailThe penthouse is a mausoleum of her memories, taunting me wherever I look. I stare at the spiral staircase, waiting for Maria to come down. I wait, hoping I'm wrong, but I know she'll never appear. I wander aimlessly up the stairs into her old bedroom, and my gaze falls on the Kuzma Fedorov painting I gave her. I remember that day and how proud Maria was to tell me it was hanging upside down.I, the art expert, was being schooled by a woman who had only seen art in books.But Maria spotted the hidden image of the face in the brushstrokes so clearly. The same way she spotted the light imprints in my father's journals. The same way that she still spotted a glimpse of the man I could have been.I close my eyes, dreaming that when I open them, she'll still be next to me. But I turn and the fantasy gives way to harsh reality.Many of the paintings I owned were destroyed during the attack. And I haven't stepped into my office since she left. I haven't touched a pencil, a pen, or a b
MariaCHRISTMAS EVEA few cards sit on the mantel among a twisty wire of bright lights. The Christmas tree stands in one corner, its branches covered in twinkling lights and ornaments from the attic. For the first time in a long while, the living room furniture is draped in cozy red-and-green throws, and a plush white rug adds to the holiday style. The scent of cinnamon and cloves fills the air downstairs, but none of this is enough to put me in the mood.The only thing that makes me smile is a sonogram of my baby propped up on the mantelpiece.Dad sits in the kitchen wrapping gifts. The sound of paper folding and the cut and the hiss of tape being pulled off the spool is calming, like white noise. I stare at the colorful presents crowded under the tree with big loopy bows.I want to care that Christmas is tomorrow, but I just don't.It's hard to care when I can only think about Mikhail."You don't mind that they're coming over?" Dad enters the room, picking at a roll of tape, trying