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Closing my office door behind me, I take a seat at my desk.
My sons…my Nikolai…my Mikhail…
So strong.
So capable.
And always so confident.
But now, after all of this?
I can’t help but wonder how much I really know.
How have my sons managed to involve this Italian princess, bring her here, and force her to become part of this?
How have they convinced themselves that this is acceptable, to play with the Italian princess like she’s some sort of property?
It goes againsteverythingI have ever taught them.
They learnt the art of subtlety, and mastered the art of discipline that kept our family standing all these years.
And yet, here they are, keeping secrets from me.
I lean back into my chair, a deep sigh escaping my lips.
How?
How did my sons do it?
Were they blinded by their own desires, so intoxicated by their own power, that they didn’t think they needed to answer to me any more?
I have always been their leader; their Pakhan.
Always.
I’m the one who’s guided this family through the darkest of times, the one who’s protected our legacy.
And now, I’ve found myself at a crossroads.
Gripping the edge of my desk, I watch my knuckles turning white.
I can’t afford to lose control.
I can’t afford to show weakness.
But the more I think of it, the clearer it becomes.
I can’t ignore this. Not when my sons are involved, and not with Chiara thrown in the mix too.
And as I think of Francesco—Chiara’s father—a mix of emotions rush through me.
I only focus on the pain he must be feeling, not knowing where his daughter is, not knowing whether she’s dead or alive.
It’s a suffering I understand too well; not knowing where my Alexis is, not knowing if she is safe or not.
That acheneverleaves.
I release a heavy breath, shaking my head to clear it, but it doesn’t help.