Page 11 of Unrequited (Bratva Kings #6)

ZOYA

I think about Seamus for the next week. I can’t get him out of my mind, no matter how hard I try.

My brother Semyon throws a surprise party for his new wife Anya at her bakery.

The place smells like sugar and warm butter, with trays of pirozhki, medovik, and sweet poppyseed rolls covering the counters.

We laugh, we eat, we drink too much tea and vodka.

It’s this cozy, sort of chaos that I usually love.

All our friends come. The whole extended family shows up—wives, brothers, even the littlest nieces and nephews, sticky-fingered and wild. We’re a big family now, with my brothers’ wives and their children, and somehow there’s still space for more.

“Zoya,” Anya says from behind the bakery counter. She beams at all of us, happy to have us here. Anya’s had a rough go of it and appreciates the found family she has with us now. “I made your favorite.”

I have a lot of favorites of hers. I smile at her as I walk behind the counter. Anya’s little brother, Stefan, comes at me with a running tackle, nearly knocking me down.

“Careful, Stefan,” my older brother Semyon chides. “You’ll knock her over.”

“Oh, I’m alright,” I tell him, even as Stefan rights himself and pats my shoulder to make sure I’m okay. “Look how much taller you are! Your whole head is higher than the counter!”

He grins bashfully as we go to see the treats Anya’s made us.

I enjoy everyone’s company. There’s laughter, storytelling, shouting over music, and clinking glasses as the bakery’s closed for the night, and we’re reveling in each other’s company.

But I’m not here, not really, because I can’t stop thinking about him .

I have to stop thinking about him.

“You seem distracted, Zoya.”

I look up to see Ember watching me, her gaze flashing with mischief, her coppery red hair twisted into a messy bun.

“Someone’s got your attention at school,” she says, sly and teasing.

Her eyes glint like she already knows that I’m obsessed with a certain man with a thick Irish brogue, heavy brows, and those shocking blue eyes that seem to look right through me .

As if I could have a crush on a boy from school. Please . I smile, barely, and shrug one shoulder, not really sure how to respond.

I definitely don’t, no. I’m not crushing on a boy . I’m in love with a man . A man I barely know.

But I know enough, don’t I? I know he’s fiercely protective. I know he’s the kind of man who listens, who doesn’t flinch when things get ugly. He’s gentle with me. Kind, even. Even when he’s ice-cold with everyone else.

I know he loves his family. That he speaks well of his parents and younger siblings, talks with his hands when he tells me stories, a wistful glint in his eyes. It makes sense, I guess, that a girl like me, the youngest, would fall for a man who makes her feel seen.

And I want to go to him. Why did Anya have to have a birthday on a Thursday? Thursdays are usually the easiest day I can sneak away, and now it’s all I can think of.

Finally, finally , Stefan yawns wide and Semyon ruffles his hair. “Time to pack this party up.”

I help them clean, then pretend to head home.

It’s harder than usual to get away—my brothers are home, making plans, watching everything. And it’s late, much later than I mean for it to be, after the birthday party. I think he’ll be gone by the time I get there. Maybe he’ll think I ditched him.

I have it down to a science now as I sneak out through the hedges, my decoy in place… and head to the bar .

But when I walk in, he’s still there, seated in the back corner, nursing a club soda like it’s the only thing anchoring him to this earth.

I walk up to him slowly, my head bowed, biting my lip. “There you are,” he murmurs. “Thought you wouldn’t come. Almost didn’t make it myself,” he adds, shaking his head.

“Did you?” I ask. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Eh,” he mutters. “Don’t want to get into the details. Let’s just say I was… detained for a bit. But I made it out.”

Detained? Made it out? What the hell is he talking about? But I don’t ask. I don’t press.

I don’t want to know.

Do I?

“I made it too,” I say softly, somehow suspecting that my “making it out” without my brothers noticing my deception is a whole other level from his.

But then there’s movement behind us. A tall, lanky guy with a tuft of blond hair and muscles and tats for days leans toward Seamus. Tension cuts through the room like a knife.

“Sir, you need to come here. We need to talk.”

The tone is sharp, urgent. And suddenly I’m on edge. Last time a guy got in his face, I thought someone might lose a tongue. That’s what would happen if they tried it with my brothers. I’ve seen it happen .

So this guy talking to Seamus now is risking everything. It must be important. Seamus’s nostrils flare… eek. He scowls, glances at his phone, then groans under his breath.

“Tonight? For fuck’s sake,” he mutters, his voice low and venomous.

His brows draw tight together. His gaze lifts to the young man beside him, eyes glinting with something dark, more than irritation.

And I know, just from the way Seamus looks at him, this isn’t a friend. This is someone he tolerates. Barely. Maybe even someone he’d rather destroy.

He leans toward me, lowering his voice. “Hold on a minute, Zoya. Just wait.”

He turns and talks over his shoulder to the blond guy.

His phone is right there, screen facing up. I know I shouldn’t look. It feels like spying. But when I see the word Kopolov … I can’t look away.

The words hit me like a punch to the chest.

Kopolovs at Wolf and Moon tonight. Everything in place. Destroy them.

Oh my god.

It takes a minute for my brain to catch up. This is… this is a kill order.

It’s a fucking kill order to destroy my family.

On his phone. In front of me .

I’ve heard my family talk with fear about the man they call The Undertaker.

I have a picture in my mind because I’m not new to the underground.

I can already picture his wizened features and hard, cold eyes.

The way he sits behind a desk, his fingers steepled, as he barks out orders to bring every family that rivals his own to their knees.

Men like him prey on the innocent and have no scruples.

Does he… does Seamus work for The Undertaker?

Panic surges through me. My pulse rings in my ears. I need to do something. I have to stop this. Now .

“Not tonight,” Seamus hisses through gritted teeth.

The man standing near him doesn’t flinch. “This… decision isn’t yours, sir. It came from above.”

I blink, half expecting murder in the next breath.

Seamus curses, then leans over the table and covers his phone with his hand.

But it’s too late.

I’ve already seen it.

I know. I know they’re coming for my family.

“You need to go home, Zoya,” he says sharply. His voice is tight, almost panicked. “Go home. Now.”

He clenches his jaw and swallows hard. Like there’s more he wants to say—but he doesn’t. He can’t.

“What’s going on?” I whisper. “Seamus… What is this?”

Who are you ?

He doesn’t answer. Just looks at me with that same tortured expression.

I want to believe he’s protecting me. That he wants me safe because he cares.

Of course that’s it. It has to be.

But I’m shaking. I don’t know what to do next.

He reaches for my hand, warm and steady, even as his voice is cold as steel. “Stay in your house tonight. Do you understand me?”

His eyes lock with mine, full of something desperate and raw. “ Zoya ,” he says again when I don’t answer.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. It feels like a rock. “I understand,” I whisper.

And when I stand, he does something unexpected. He grabs the back of my neck, pulls me in, and kisses me like it’s the last time. Like he doesn’t know if we’ll survive this.

“Next Thursday,” I whisper against his lips. But my voice trembles. “Right?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Next Thursday.” But he won’t meet my eyes.

When I’m home, I make a call.

I dial Aria Romanova with shaking fingers. Polina’s brother’s wife.

She’s good. I trust her. There aren’t many I do.

It’s early evening in America. I pray she answers. I’ve only spoken to her a few times, but after what happened with our families… we all know each other now.

“Hello?”

“Aria?” I whisper. “It’s Zoya Kopolova.” I swallow hard. “I need a favor,” I say, my voice cracking.

“Zoya? Are you okay?” she asks gently.

“I… I don’t know. I saw something I shouldn’t have. And I need details.” I take a breath. “It’s about someone Irish. A message… It mentioned my family. It said they were going to be destroyed.”

She’s silent. Then her voice turns icy.

“And why come to me, Zoya? Why can’t you tell your brothers?”

Heat flares in my chest. I’m feeling desperate.

“Because you know what they’ll do. You know if they think they’re under attack, they’ll burn the whole world down. They don’t have the resources right now.” My voice breaks. I’m telling the truth. “They’d go to war… and lose.”

I can tell she’s warring with herself before she finally blows out a breath and answers.

“Okay,” she says with a groan. “I’m on it. But I need everything you know.”

“All I know is his name is Seamus. He’s Irish. And I think… I think he’s trying to protect me.”

She goes still. Her breath catches. “Seamus,” you say. “And he's Irish. ”

“Yes.”

Sometimes you don't ask questions—because the truth is, you're not ready to hear the answers. Because the moment you do, everything becomes real. Tangible… and irreversible.

“And you were with him,” she says.

“Yes.” My voice shakes, just slightly. But enough. Enough to make it real.

“Okay. All right.” Her tone is softer now. “I got you. Now… what did you see?”

“A text,” I tell her. “A message sent to this… man named Seamus. I saw a message on his phone that my family is going to the Wolf and Moon. The text to him said… destroy them.”