Page 117 of Mafia King's Broken Vow

Dread coils in my gut. I stay seated, spine straight, forcing stillness into my limbs, calm into my expression.

The door opens without a knock.

Nikolai enters first, unreadable as ever. Igor follows, tension carved into every line of his frame. Then Aleksander, cool, calculating, his ice-blue stare analyzing rather than condemning. Vasiliy steps in next, silent and towering. But it’s the final figure who steals my breath.

My father.

“Quite the welcoming committee,” I say, not bothering to stand. Another small rebellion, maintaining what little control I can in this cage that’s been my home for months.

“We need to talk,” Nikolai responds, taking the chair opposite mine without waiting for an invitation. The others remain standing, except for my father, who hesitates, glancing between the remaining empty chairs as if uncertain whether he’s allowed to sit. The uneasiness in his posture clashes with the image I’ve held onto since Ana’s death—a man unafraid to makedifficult decisions. My father looks smaller somehow, uncertain in a way that clashes with the strong leader I remember.

“About Pablo,” I state rather than ask. “About what happened in that alley.”

Igor’s jaw tightens visibly. “About your unauthorized excursion. About breaking security protocols. About compromising the operation.”

“About saving Mila’s life,” I counter, unable to keep the edge from my voice. Memories of her flood through me—distractions I can’t afford right now. I force them away, focusing on the dangerous men surrounding me.

“Yes,” Nikolai acknowledges unexpectedly. “About that too.”

A subtle shift occurs in the room, a realignment of power I can feel more than see. Nikolai and Igor exchange glances, some unspoken communication passing between them.

“After considerable discussion, we’ve reached a decision regarding your status,” Nikolai continues. “Last night’s events forced us to reassess. Your actions violated protocol, but they also demonstrated capabilities we’d underestimated.” He pauses. “We’re not here to deliver punishment, Yakov. We’re here with an opportunity.”

“What you did was reckless. But it was also effective. You read the situation faster than our security detail and neutralized the threat.” Igor pauses. “That’s valuable.”

My pulse quickens, though I maintain my neutral expression.

“We already have enough enemies,” Vasiliy adds, speaking for the first time. “We don’t need you to be one of them.”

The statement hangs in the air, loaded with implications I hadn’t anticipated.

“What exactly are you saying?” I ask, caution tempering the spark of hope threatening to ignite in my chest.

“We’re offering you a position,” Nikolai replies. “At Volkov Enterprises. Security consultation initially, with potential for expansion based on…performance.”

I stare at him, searching for the trap, the hidden agenda beneath this unexpected proposal. “A job.”

“A purpose,” he corrects. “Beyond these walls. Beyond revenge.”

My father steps forward, unable to contain himself any longer. “They’re giving you a chance, Yakov.”

I glance at him, noting the naked hope in his eyes. I haven’t seen that expression since before Ana died, before I got swallowed by darkness.

“Why?” I ask, directing the question to Igor, the least likely to offer me anything but continued captivity. “Why now?”

Igor’s eyes narrow, assessing. “Your actions during the Pablo situation demonstrated your worth. Tactical insight we can utilize. And a certain unexpected…attachment. Loyalty.”

The implication is clear—they’ve noticed my feelings for Mila. The thought of her sends another surge through me, memories of her lips against mine just hours ago, her whispered confession against my skin.

I choose you, Yakov.

“There will be conditions,” Aleksander adds, his calm voice cutting through my momentary distraction. “Monitoring. Restrictions. Regular check-ins.”

“Of course,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral despite the storm of emotions threatening to break through my carefully maintained control. “I’d expect nothing less.”

“You’ll be able to see Damien more frequently,” Igor says, surprising me with what sounds almost like a concession.

The thought of spending more time with my nephew—of fulfilling my promise to my sister in ways I couldn’t before—sends an unexpected jolt through my chest.