Page 7

“Don’t cut yourself, Alina.”

She gives a small snort. “I’ve picked up a lot of broken things recently. I’m not afraid of being cut by glass. That heals.”

Her words punch me hard in the gut.

There are words. I know there are words. Great words. Perfects words. Ones that heal and help make things better. But they’re beyond me.

“I’m going to tuck Sasha in and head out. You’ll be safe. I promise.”

She just nods, and I turn and leave.

As I climb the stairs, ignoring my men—armed men in the house at posts—my weapon grows heavier with each step.

Maybe it’s the fact I know what I need to do. If Sergio had been out and about, I very well might have killed him.But he’s home inside his own fortress, and short of storming the damn gates and starting an all-out war, I can’t do that.

It’s the only thing keeping him alive.

That, and unfortunately, I think I need him.

He’s the last person I want to owe more favors to, but he might be able to actually help.

Our last altercation didn’t end well, but it didn’t end in a bloodbath, because we both want something. He fucked up, tried to play me and Niko, but I don’t think he trusts the dickbag anymore than I do, so if I go to him…

He might be able to help.

And then he’ll extract his pound of flesh.

The gun’s like an anvil in my holster, but I push open Sasha’s door, not glancing at the guard with the semiautomatic.

In the room, the night-light shines a soft light, and my boy sleeps, looking angelic with his chubby cheeks.

My heart squeezes tight and I’m so overcome I’m lost at sea. I cross to him and carefully brush a few strands of fine silk hair from his forehead.

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” I say. “I love you, Sasha, my son.”

Then I rise, sighing heavily, and head out, taking a handful of men with me. Pavel, I have here. I know it’s not what he wants, but he’s always willing and he gets how important it is to have someone I trust who’s smart and can think on their feet in the mansion when I’m away.

As we drive to Sergio’s, I toy with the idea of moving the entourage to my penthouse in Chicago city itself. But I reject it. Yes, a smaller space might feel safer, but it’s also a world of glass and a gilded cage, one that becomes a target, one where any comings and goings would be a commodity.

The mansion, now that security’s been upped and tightened, is the safest bet.

I sit in the car on the street outside his townhouse, takingit in. The neighborhood’s beyond affluent and while I know he’s got a home outside of the city, like I do, he’s here. At least my intel told me that.

The other thing on my mind was if I should let him know I’m coming. But he’s not worth a thing if his people haven’t given him a heads-up.

With a sigh, I open the door and make my way across the footpath, narrowly missing a woman and her ridiculous dog, and ring the bell.

Sergio pulls open the door within seconds, smiling.

The fucker not only knew, but was lying in wait. I narrow my eyes. “Sergio.”

The smile gets wider, and satisfaction gleams in his gaze. “Demyan, welcome. I’ve been expecting you. Come in.”

I follow him in and whatever he’s going to say ends abruptly as I grab him and hurl him into the hallway wall, earning the click of a gun and a grunt from a guard who steps from a room.

My attention’s for the asshole Sergio and I ignore the guard. I lean in close to Sergio, cutting off his air with my forearm.

“First, my sister’s wedding is shot to fuck. Her fiancé—a fucking civilian—is murdered. Then my—” I almost say son. Almost. And I can’t remember if with the last face-off between me and Sergio I mentioned Sasha, let alone that he’s my son, but I stop myself. Just in case. Just in case the entire world hasn’t worked out, the little boy in my life is mine.