Page 23 of Royal Bargain (Royals of the Underworld #3)

ANNIKA

L iam’s words echo in my head on an endless loop, twisting my stomach into knots. It was your family. The Russians were at the scene .

I sit on the edge of the bed, Lily curled against my chest, her soft breaths steady against my collarbone.

The weight of her is the only thing anchoring me right now.

I want to believe he’s wrong. I need him to be wrong.

But Liam isn’t careless. He wouldn’t say something like that unless he truly believed it.

Still… believing something and knowing it are two different things.

My fingers tremble as I reach for my phone on the nightstand.

It’s been weeks since I last tried to contact anyone from the Bratva, since I walked away.

Since I became, in my father’s eyes, a traitor.

A ghost. I know any attempt to reach out could be dangerous.

But I also know there’s one person who might still pick up.

Sasha.

My heart aches just thinking of her. The last time we spoke, her voice cracked when she said goodbye. She didn’t want to let me go. I saw it in her eyes. She never believed in all of this the way the others did. She was too soft for our world. Too human.

I open our old, encrypted message app and stare at the empty chat screen, unsure of what to say. Finally, I type,

Sasha, it’s me. I need to talk. Please. Just you. I need to know the truth.

I send it and immediately regret it, locking the screen and pressing the phone to my chest like I can take it back if I just hold it tightly enough.

Lily stirs, letting out a quiet whimper. I kiss her forehead and rock her gently. “Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay. Mama’s just… Mama’s just trying to breathe.”

The minutes stretch long. I don’t expect her to answer. She might be watched. She might hate me now. She might not even?—

Ping.

I nearly drop the phone.

Sasha: Annushka. I miss you so much. Please let me see you. Just for a few minutes. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.

I read the message three times before the words finally register. A sob catches in my throat, sharp and messy.

She misses me.

And now I have a chance to find out the truth.

Even if it hurts.

Liam isn’t home when I decide to go.

He would never let me leave if he knew—not alone, not like this. And I can’t blame him. We’ve been balancing on a knife’s edge for weeks. But this… this is something I have to do. For my own sanity. For Lily.

I tell Kate I need some fresh air and ask Shane to come with me, keeping my voice as neutral as possible. Not a lie, exactly—but not the whole truth either. Shane eyes me with mild suspicion but doesn’t push. He checks his holster and nods for me to lead the way.

I tuck Lily into her stroller, layering her up in a soft pink hat and a cozy fleece blanket. She coos up at me, oblivious. I envy her for that.

The meeting spot is a small, abandoned greenhouse tucked behind an old community garden, the glass roof partially caved in, weeds sprouting through the tiles. It’s quiet here, hidden from the road. We used to sneak away here as kids when we didn’t want to be found. Sasha remembered.

I spot her almost immediately, standing near one of the broken windows, arms crossed, her bodyguard lingering a few paces behind her. She looks thinner than I remember. Tired. But her face lights up the second she sees me.

“Annushka,” she breathes, rushing forward before she can stop herself.

Shane steps protectively between us, and Sasha’s guard mirrors the move, tension crackling between them like static. I lift a hand.

“It’s okay,” I say softly. “She’s my sister.”

Shane hesitates, then eases back a little, still on alert.

Sasha’s eyes dart to the stroller, and her breath catches. “Is that… ?”

“Yeah,” I murmur, reaching in to gently lift Lily into my arms. “This is Lily.”

Sasha stares at her like she’s seeing a miracle. “Oh, my God. She looks like you. No—wait, she looks like him. The Irish boy, right?”

I stiffen slightly but nod. “She has his eyes.”

Sasha’s lips tremble as she reaches out, almost touching Lily’s hand before pulling back. “Can I… ?”

I let her take a step closer. Lily yawns and blinks sleepily, completely unbothered by the tension between the adults around her.

“She’s beautiful,” Sasha whispers. “You did good, Annushka.”

Emotion swells in my throat again, raw and choking. “I need to know, Sash. I need to know if it was him. If it was Papa. If my family—our family—was behind the shooting.”

Sasha goes still.

The wind rattles a broken pane of glass in the distance, a soft, eerie sound.

“Sasha. Please.”

Her eyes meet mine. And I see it—hesitation. Fear. Grief.

And maybe guilt.

Sasha glances over her shoulder, as if someone might be listening. Her bodyguard stays back, but his hand rests near his weapon. Shane shifts too, clearly not liking this, but I give him a quiet look. Let me have this.

Sasha lowers her voice. “It’s not him.”

I blink. “What?”

“Papa… he’s not the one calling the shots right now. Not really. He’s too tied up with the trial, with trying to keep his empire from falling apart. His lawyers are bleeding him dry. His temper’s worse than ever. But he’s not behind what happened at the gala. I swear it.”

I want to believe her. God, I want to.

“Then who is?” My voice is hoarse. “Liam said there were men at the scene—Russian men.”

Sasha winces. “Some of the upper ranks are furious about the Harborview deal getting blocked. They think Burns made it personal. There’s been talk, whispers about taking him out before he can run his mouth to the Feds. But that talk didn’t come from Papa.”

My arms tighten instinctively around Lily.

Sasha steps a little closer. “Dariy’s been stirring things up. He’s pushing the others, saying it’s time we remind people we’re still dangerous. That if we don’t act, the Irish will get stronger, and Papa will lose everything.”

My stomach churns. “So it was him?”

She hesitates, then shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know. No one’s admitting to anything. But I heard one of the lieutenants mention a cleaner was sent to Thornville a few days before the gala. That doesn’t just… happen. Not without someone high up pulling strings.”

“And Papa didn’t order it?”

“I don’t think he even knows.” Her voice breaks slightly. “He’s losing control, Ana. It’s like cracks are forming beneath his feet, and no one’s telling him. Everyone’s jockeying for position while he’s distracted. Dariy’s practically running the place behind closed doors.”

I stare down at Lily, her cheek pressed to my chest. The heat of her body is so small, so fragile. She deserves better than this.

“So, what do I do?” I ask quietly. “If it wasn’t Papa, but it was still them, how do I protect her from that?”

Sasha looks at me with tears in her eyes. “You already are. Just by staying away.”

Before I can say anything else, Sasha’s bodyguard steps forward. I’d almost forgotten he was there—silent, looming. His presence is different from Shane’s. Colder. Calculating.

I glance at him warily. “You used to work for my father.”

He nods once. “Still do, technically. But I was assigned to Sasha before you left. He trusted me to protect her.”

There’s something deliberate in the way he says that. Like he wants me to know, I’m not your enemy. Not yet.

He looks at Lily, then back at me. “He wants you back, Annika. That hasn’t changed. But not like this. Not… in chains. He wants his daughter. His legacy.”

I swallow hard. “If he wants me back, he has a funny way of showing it. Letting his men put a target on my back doesn’t exactly scream fatherly love.”

The bodyguard’s jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. “He didn’t order it.”

“You’re sure?” I press.

“Yes. Right now, all Anatoly Volkov wants is to walk free. He’s not thinking about vendettas or retaliation. His mind is on the trial—on cutting deals, calling in favors, keeping the empire intact until he can breathe again. War isn’t part of the plan.”

“But someone else wants one,” I murmur.

His eyes meet mine. Steady. Intense.

“Some people,” he says slowly, “have learned to speak in his voice. They know the power his name still carries. And they aren’t above using it to justify their own ambitions.”

A chill goes down my spine. “Who?”

He looks away.

“Who?”

“I’ve said too much already,” he mutters, glancing at Sasha. “We should go.”

Sasha’s face twists in conflict, like she wants to argue, but she doesn’t. She reaches out and touches my arm one last time, gently.

“I’ll try to find out more. But please be careful. Dariy’s not the only one you should be worried about.”

I nod slowly, my fingers brushing over Lily’s back. “I know.”

Sasha hesitates for a moment, then glances around before leaning in. “Would you at least consider it? He just wants you to come home,” she whispers. “He doesn’t care about your career, or even the Irish. He just wants his little girl back.”

I wish I could believe that. I wish it were that simple. But the truth is, I know my father. I know how love becomes possession in his hands—how apologies turn into expectations, how forgiveness is a leash.

“He says that now,” I murmur. “But what happens after I come back? When I refuse to stand beside him in court? When I won’t pretend I’m grateful, or obedient, or proud to be a Volkov?”

Sasha’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Then he’ll find a way to forgive you again. He always does.”

“But it’s not real, Sasha. It’s control.” My voice quavers, but I hold her gaze. “He doesn’t want me. He wants the version of me that never said no. That never ran.”

Sasha pulls me into a hug without asking. It’s tight, desperate, like she’s trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through her fingers.

I hug her back just as fiercely. For a second, it feels like we’re kids again, playing make believe, running around the backyard, pushing each other on the swings…

But we’re not kids anymore. And the world we live in doesn’t deal in promises. Only consequences.

When we finally pull apart, she looks at Lily again, then back at me with a soft, teasing smile. “Is your Irishman giving you any trouble?”

I roll my eyes, but my cheeks warm anyway. “Liam? No. He’s… he’s been good to me. Really good.”

Her expression shifts, just slightly. The fondness fades into something more guarded. “Don’t let yourself get too close to him.”

I frown. “Sasha?—”

“I’m serious.” Her voice is quiet but firm. “I know you want to believe things can be different. I know you feel safe with him. But don’t forget who he is. Who his family is. Who we are.”

I stare at her for a beat.

“He’s still the enemy, Ana. No matter how kind he is to you right now.”

My heart sinks, but I don’t argue. Because some part of me still isn’t sure she’s wrong.

I lift Lily a little higher, shielding her from the cold wind as I nod. “Take care of yourself, Sasha.”

“You too, Annika.”

With one last look, she turns and walks away, her bodyguard falling into step beside her. Shane waits until they’re out of sight before approaching, his face unreadable.

I press a kiss to Lily’s head. She’s warm, soft. Safe.

“Yeah,” I murmur. “Let’s go home.”

The apartment’s quiet when we get back.

Kate’s in the corner folding laundry, the dryer humming like white noise. Shane locks the door without saying anything.

I unclip Lily from the carrier and kiss her again, softer this time, like maybe I’m trying to ground myself. She clings to my shirt, half-asleep.

In the nursery, I lay her down. My hand rests on her back longer than it needs to.

I don’t want to leave her. I don’t want to move at all.

But then my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I pull it out, expecting something from Liam—maybe a check-in, maybe a quiet Where the hell were you—but it’s not him.

It’s Sasha.

You should be asking why Burns needed to be shot, not who shot him.

I stare at the screen, my pulse ticking up.

Not who. Why .

My fingers hover over the keyboard, but I don’t type anything.

Because suddenly, the world feels just a little more tilted. Like I’ve been looking at the pieces of the puzzle upside down this whole time.

And someone—maybe more than one someone—has been moving them behind my back.