Page 30 of Brutal Union (Ruthless Mafia Kings #8)

I pour myself a glass of water and lean against the counter. “Your children are not fighters.”

He lets out a low whistle, shaking the pan slightly. “Three years ago that would’ve made me proud.”

I glance at him. “Three years ago I would have said no child should know how to fight.”

He turns toward me, face drawn, mouth tugging into something grim. “I think I raised them to be too soft.”

I shake my head, holding the cool water in my mouth for a moment too long before swallowing. “I think you raised them thinking you would always be alive. It is my fault you may not see their thirteenth birthday.”

He sets the pan aside, leans both hands against the edge of the counter, and sighs through his nose. “I will not tell you again, Nadia. It is not your fault. If Aleksandr feels no shame, then you shouldn’t either.”

“Aleksander has a safety plan that you do not,” I snap, looking to see Mia’s head curled into the crook of Gwen's neck as they laugh.

I take a sip of my water, eyes fixed on a crack in the tile.

“You put everyone in danger. I am their aunt and Godmother, and since I have no children they are the closest thing anyone can kill. We need to get you out of here. We need a new plan.”

I hear the sharp clatter of a knife hitting the sink, followed by a long, heavy sigh from Nik.

“We have a safety plan,” he says, voice low but fraying at the edges.

I don’t look at him. I keep my eyes on the cracked tile floor, on the condensation sliding down my glass, anything but him.

“The safe houses aren’t an option,” I mutter, more to myself than to him.

The thought of losing more family makes something hollow in my chest ache.

For a stupid second, I wish my mother were still alive.

The ache sharpens. I haven’t wished for that in years—and now isn’t the time to be so fucking sentimental.

“No,” he says, even quieter now. “We have a place out in Bali.”

My head snaps up so fast my neck stings.

“Bali?” I bark, storming toward him. “Why the hell are you here if there’s safety for you there? Why are Gwen and the kids here? ”

Nik straightens up, but he doesn’t back away. “Because I cannot leave you alone.”

I step in closer, practically chest to chest now. “Nikolai. This is your wife and children we’re talking about.”

“I know that?—”

“No. You don’t. ” My finger jabs into his chest. “You’re playing soldier while your family could be halfway across the world, safe, untouched.”

“I cannot let you fight this alone!”

“We all die alone!” I snarl.

“I will not let that happen to you!”

“You are leaving for Bali first thing in the morning,” I snap, eyes locked on his. “You, Gwen, Mia, Toni and Gio. No arguments.”

“Nadi—”

“This is not a discussion,” I growl. “This is a direct order. If I see you on American soil again, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes myself.”

He jerks back like I slapped him, but I see it—his lip twitching, his fists clenched, that same defiance we were both raised with.

“Nadia, don’t do this,” he pleads, his voice cracking slightly. “If we leave, then you have no one. No protection. No backup. And they will?—”

“I can protect myself!” I explode, stepping so close I can smell the cinnamon on his breath, our foreheads nearly touching. “I’ve always protected myself. I protected you. I can protect us. I will protect us. You just have to trust me Nikolai. ”

He breathes hard, jaw working, eyes burning into mine.

“You’re not invincible,” he whispers.

“Neither are you,” I whisper back. “But they need you more than I do, and I will not be able to forgive myself if anything happens to you.”

Nik breathes hard through his nose, his chest rising and falling in uneven waves like he’s trying to hold something inside and failing miserably. I expect him to argue again. To shout. To fight me the way we always do when everything feels too dangerous to name.

But instead, he steps forward and wraps his arms around me.

The hug isn’t gentle—it’s bone-deep and suffocating, like he’s trying to fuse our blood back together.

His grip tightens around my shoulders with the desperation of a man hugging his last family member goodbye.

I go stiff at first, caught off guard. I can feel the tension in his back, the strength in his arms, and the way his heart is pounding hard enough to echo through his chest. I haven’t been held like this in years.

Not like this—without caution, without an agenda.

His voice is quiet against my temple, barely more than a breath. “I know you can protect yourself… but I’d still rather someone be here. With you.”

For a moment, I’m not standing in my kitchen. I’m somewhere else—in some other time.

A rooftop in Osaka. A hotel room in New York.

A warehouse floor covered in blood. I’m thinking about calloused hands, cold steel, and the only man who ever made me feel like I could fall and still be dangerous.

I think of his smirk in the dark. The weight of him behind me.

Sho Matsumoto—my enemy, my mirror, the one person I’ve never been able to erase no matter how hard I try.

Even now, he’s here—in the pit of my stomach, in the ache in my chest, in the memory of what I never got to say.

But I don’t tell Nik any of that.

I press my lips tightly together and force the truth out before it sticks in my throat.

“There’s no one.”