Page 18 of The Last Hope

Speak of the devil—he walked into the hall just as we were leaving, now accompanied by a young woman, but his wife was nowhere to be seen. That weight in my chest turned unbearable.

A cold sweat trickled down my back as a strange sense of dread gripped me.

What had he done to his wife ?

A light pressure on my forearm made me glance down, meeting Elif’s confused gaze. She nodded and joined Grigori, who was speaking with Rasili and the woman beside him. I followed, stepping behind her discreetly.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the evening, Mr. Ivanov. I wish you a safe journey home,” Antonio said, shaking my brother’s hand.

“I would have liked to say goodbye to your wife as well. Where is she ?” Elif asked, a polite smile on her lips—one of the most insincere I had ever seen.

Rasili tensed, his eyes flicking to me, dark and hostile. I simply offered him a slow smirk, my hands buried deep in my pockets.

His jaw clenched, his body tilting forward as if ready to lunge at me—which, for some reason, I silently prayed for. I wanted him to. I wanted an excuse to rearrange his damn face.

But, of course, the woman at his side stepped in. She pressed a perfectly manicured hand to Antonio’s chest, pushing him gently back. Then she turned toward Elif, mirroring her smile, which pissed me off even more.

I sensed Sacha tense behind me.

If I felt protective of Elif, it was nothing compared to what Sacha and Roman felt.

Our mother had died when Roman was just five years old, and Sacha barely ten. They had been too young, Grigori and I had been old enough to handle it, but our younger brothers had been lost, struggling to adapt to life without a mother figure.

Then, as if by some miracle, Elif had arrived.

She had bulldozed into our lives, tearing down every wall we had built around ourselves. She had reached Sacha and Roman when they had shut down more than ever. When we had all drifted apart, she had pulled us back under the same roof, around the same table.

To Grigori, she was the love of his life. To me, she was a sister.

But to Sacha and Roman, she was a mother.

I didn’t even want to imagine what they would do for her.

The woman clinging to Antonio’s arm stepped between us. “Selina is taking care of Rafael. The little angel wasn’t feeling well, unfortunately,” she explained in an irritatingly sweet voice.

Then she lifted her brown eyes to mine, her smile stretching wider. She ran her fingers through her long blonde hair, and I barely held back from rolling my eyes.

Thank God Elif stepped in front of her, blocking her view, making me smirk. Always playing the shield.

“Excuse me, but may I ask who you are… Miss ?” Elif finally said, her voice carrying a sharp edge. Sacha chuckled under his breath.

“Oh, forgive my lack of manners. Alia Rasili. I’m Antonio’s cousin. A pleasure,” she introduced herself, extending her hand.

A twisted sense of satisfaction washed over me as I watched Elif glance at Alia’s hand with disdain before completely ignoring it and turning to Grigori.

“Askim(my love), I’m exhausted. Let’s go,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around him.

This time, Sacha’s chuckle was anything but discreet. I had to elbow him in the ribs to shut him up.

“Moyalapochka, let’s go right away,” Grigori agreed without hesitation, guiding her toward the exit—forgetting even his own sons, who, like lost ducklings, scurried after them.

Sacha simply nodded, picked up Andrei and hoisted him into his arms, then grabbed Alexei’s hand before heading outside.

I pushed Mikhail to follow them, and he did, leaving me alone with the Rasili family.

I took a step forward, a smirk tugging at my lips as I caught sight of the various bodyguards subtly closing in around us.

“What happened to your boy, Antonio ? I hope he’s alright ?” I asked, my jaw tightening, searching for any sign—anything at all—that might tell me where Selina and her son were.