It’s gone midnight when I stride into my father’s office without knocking, my steps swift and my face a mask of controlled urgency. “Father, we have a situation.”
Sergi Petrov, my sire and the demon that features in all my nightmares, looks up from his desk, his lips pursed, his weathered face tightening. I suppress my smirk at his aged appearance since Iris’s return to the Shadows; I appreciate his haggard look. “This better be important, Nikolai.”
Ignoring the hint of irritation in his tone, I approach the hideous monstrosity of a desk, placing my phone on it for him to look at. “The Volkov Syndicate in Moscow is making moves against us. Look.”
On the screen is a series of messages and photos, showing evidence of large weapons shipments and documents with their family name circled in red. There are surveillance photos, grainy but revealing members of the rival family encroaching on our turf. It’s amazing what you can do with tech these days, not that my dinosaur of a father would know, given he won’t embrace modernity, like if he does, it will steal his soul or some shit.
“My contact in the Federal Security Service just sent these. The Volkovs are planning to seize our operations in St. Petersburg. They’re mobilising now.”
Sergi’s eyes narrow, his nostrils flaring as he scrolls and looks at the damning evidence. “How reliable is this intel?”
“Very. It’s the same source that warned us about the police raid last year,” I reply smoothly and without hesitation, my years of training at the hands of this monster finally coming back to bite him on the arse. “We have a small window to act before they strike.”
Sergi leans back, the leather chair creaking, his eyes darting back and forth as his mind clearly races with his options. Luckily, I’ve already thought of them all and can use the skills of manipulation he taught me to guide him into choosing the right one. “So, what do you propose?”
My posture straightens and I allow confidence to fill me up. I cannot afford for this to go any other way than the way I’ve planned. There is too much at stake. “I need to go to Moscow immediately. Tonight, or tomorrow at the latest. I have connections there that you don’t, people who owe me favours. I can rally support, shore up our defences, and possibly turn this into an opportunity to expand our territory.”
Sergi’s eyebrows raise slightly, his upper lip curling in a way that has my hackles rising. “You? Why not send one of my men, someone older and with more experience of these matters? Like Soj or Ivan?”
“With all due respect, father, they don’t have my rapport with the younger generation of the Russian underworld, or the people that owe me favours which I can cash in. You know some people won’t just work with anyone. This requires a delicate touch, not brute force. Plus, the Volkovs won’t see me as a threat. They’ll underestimate me, which we can use to our advantage.”
A moment of silence passes, the tension in the air building until it makes all the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, but I don’t allow my trepidation to show. Don’t allow Sergi to see how important this is to me, how much is riding on me getting out of the country right now. Finally, he nods. “Very well. Go, but I want updates every six hours, understood?”
I dip my head down sharply, not allowing the rush of relief to show on my face or in my body language. “Of course. I’ll leave within the hour.”
I pick my phone up off the desk, but as I turn to leave, Sergi calls out, “Nikolai.” I pause at the door, my heart giving an uncomfortable thud inside my chest. “Don’t make me regret this decision.”
I meet my father’s steely gaze, unflinching and holding it with ease after the years of physical and mental torture he’s put me through. “I won’t let you down, father.”
With that, I exit, checking that none of Sergi’s men are around before I allow myself a small, triumphant smile after the door closes behind me.
IRIS
I blink my eyes open to find myself alone in the enormous bed and soft morning light filtering around the curtains. One of the guys must have cracked them, knowing that I don’t like to wake up in the darkness, even with a lamp on. Not anymore, not since that night when my world fractured.
The delicious scent of bacon wafts into the room and my stomach rumbles enough that, with a sigh—because part of me just wants to hide for the rest of my life—I get up and go to the loo. Once I’ve washed up, I pad into the hallway, past the office space that is now smaller than it used to be given the renovations the guys have started for the baby’s room, and into the main part of the flat. When I was away at Serene Haven, the guys made everything open-plan, so we now have a combined kitchen, dining, and living room, and the light that fills the space is like a balm to my aching soul.
“Morning, Peaches,” Hunt greets from in front of the hob, which is on one side of the island that faces out to the rest of the room. I love it because it means we can talk and chat to him while he cooks for us. “Hungry?”
“Yes, please, Daddy,” I reply, coming around the island and wrapping my arms around him from behind. He pauses in his cooking, letting me lean my cheek against his back while breathing in his rosemary and mint scent. It helps to soothe the pain inside me, that at least I have him and Rowan.
“We’ll make it through, baby. I know it feels so fucking dark right now…” His choked voice cuts off and my cheek rises and falls with the deep breath he takes. “But I promise we’ll make it through this.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I try to swallow them down because I’m just so sick of crying, even though I’m not able to speak past the lump in my throat right now.
“There’s a gift for you on the table,” Hunt tells me after several long moments, and I pull away, stepping to the side to look at him with a raised brow. “I’m sorry it took so long to get to you.”
Looking away from him, I spy what appears to be a phone on the table, and with a small smile, I rush over to it, picking it up just as an incoming FaceTime call makes it buzz. My grin widens when I see Willow’s name, and I answer immediately.
“Hey, babe,” she sighs, and I can tell by the tremble in her voice and the tears gathering in her eyes that this will go the way of many of the conversations we’ve had over the past couple of weeks. Namely, we both have a good cry.
“Hey, you,” I reply, my voice croaking, and before I know it, the tears I was holding back spill over and down my cheeks and we’re both sobbing. We don’t need words to articulate our sadness because the missing piece of our lives is too obvious. The distance between us doesn’t diminish our friendship, or the fact that we’ve become closer in the past couple of weeks.
A plate is set down on the table in front of me, Hunt’s arms wrapping around me from behind as he pulls me close and appears on the screen, his own eyes red and so fucking sad.
“Hey, sis. How you holding up?” he asks, his voice gruff, and before, I would have found it sexy, but now I hate the reason that it sounds so broken.
“I j–just can’t believe he’s gone, Hunt,” she stammers, wiping her face as we both try to get ourselves under control. I wonder if I will ever stop crying, or is this it, this grief that feels all-consuming?
“I know, Willow Bear, I know,” he rasps, pulling me closer to him, and I sink into him, trying to absorb his warmth.
With a shuddering exhale, she squares her shoulders. “What are your plans today?”
It’s dark behind her, and I glance at the time on the screen, realising it’s almost lunchtime here, so it must be very early morning for her in Colorado.
“Ummm…” I trail off, chewing my chapped bottom lip as I glance up at Hunter. I feel like I’m in survival mode, just barely able to stay above the surface, and while a part of me knows that Hunt’s hurting so much too, I can’t stop relying on him to help guide me through this.
“I thought we could get out, get some fresh air after we eat,” he says, looking away from the screen at me. My stomach churns. I’ve not left the flat since that dreadful night, and I’m not sure I’m ready to face the world just yet. “We could get some things for the baby.”
His hand strokes my stomach, which seems to get bigger by the day, and as if it knows, our child gives me a kick.
“Okay, sounds good,” I say, my tone unconvinced. The sun is shining though, so I think he’s right, some fresh air would be good.
“I can’t wait to see what you get. Send me photos?” Willow asks, and I look back at the screen to see a soft smile on her face as she looks at us. “I can’t believe I’m finally going to be an auntie.”
We told her about the baby, but kept the details of its conception to ourselves. I’m not ready to have to explain my choices just yet because I don’t want the excitement in her eyes to end, even though I know she won’t judge. I don’t know what I’d do if pity replaced it, or even disgust.
“You’ll be the best auntie,” I reply, my voice quiet as another wave of anguish washes over me. Roman will never be a father, and he would have made one of the best. “I should eat, but we’ll talk soon, yeah?” My voice is thick again, the tears trembling along my eyelashes.
“Yeah. Love you,” she answers, sucking her lower lip in and trying to smile, but her eyes are rapidly filling up too.
“Love you,” I whisper before I end the call, dropping the phone onto the table with a clunk and then spinning in Hunter’s arms.
I bury my face in his chest, letting the wave of grief overwhelm me once more as he holds me tightly and we mourn together.
