IRIS
Isit on the sofa, the contents of the package spread on the coffee table before me, and I feel numb. My hands tremble as I stare at the items again, as if they may morph before me, changing to be less..terrifying.
A small, hand-knitted, blue baby hat, a matching blanket, a sterling silver rattle, and a note, handwritten in elegant Cyrillic script Nik translated after throwing his glass of water at the wall.
For my son. I look forward to meeting him soon. Perhaps sooner than you planned.
Nik paces the room like a caged tiger, phone to his ear as he speaks rapidly in Russian to someone on the other end. Hunter sits beside me, a small bandage covering the gunshot wound that he’s still not fully recovered from. His hand covers one of mine, but I barely feel it.
“Blue,” I whisper, my shaking hand reaching out and fingering the baby hat. “How did he know my baby is a boy?”
“He’s taunting us,” Rowan says, bringing me a steaming cup of mint tea, then taking the bonnet from my fingers and wrapping them around the hot mug.
Hunter’s jaw tightens. “He’s escalating his game.”
The front door bangs open, and I jump, spilling tea all over the floor as Roman rushes in, his face flushed. His eyes find the baby items, then land on me.
“He’s upgraded his surveillance,” he says without hesitation as he comes closer, Bubby coming in after him and shutting the door behind him. “The satellites he’s been using to track us— He’s got better thermal imaging now, higher resolution equipment.”
I shudder, not knowing the full implications of his words but knowing that they mean nothing good for me, for my baby.
Nik ends his call, turning to face us. “He’s been watching us from the beginning. Looks like he finally found us.” Then he curses in Russian, running his hand through his hair as he comes towards our group. Rowan returns with a fresh cup of tea and a cloth to mop up the spillage, and I wonder when he left and how I didn’t notice.
“The difference now is…” Roman says, and my heart sinks at his tone serious and gloomy. “These new systems might detect fetal positioning. With the right analytics, they might even determine gender based on heat patterns. Or someone at the hospital in Russia let slip, and he’s known all this time that you’re carrying his son.”
Roman sets his laptop on the table next to the baby items and opens it to display a satellite image. It’s the island, the house, and our heat signatures visible as coloured blobs. My mouth turns dry.
“This is from three days ago,” he mumbles, and chills cascade over my skin. “He’s been watching us the whole time.”
“Breathe, Peaches,” Hunt reminds me gently, and I take a deep inhale, holding it for a moment, then letting it out slowly, repeating the breathing exercise until my pulse has stopped thrumming in my ears.
Nik picks up the rattle, turning it over in his hands, his brows knotted. He presses the side, the snick of a hidden catch on the handle that causes it to pop open, revealing a small compartment. It’s empty, but a sour taste fills my mouth at the sight.
“It’s a message,” Nik says, looking grim as he studies the seemingly innocent item. “This is what they used to use to smuggle poison to targets. He’s telling us he could have if he wanted to. That he can reach us anytime.”
I gasp, the meaning of his words shocking me to my core. They poison babies, or at least mothers like me carrying unborn children. The thought is abhorrent, a crime so heinous I can barely wrap my head around it. My trembling hand flies to my rounded stomach, as if that would be enough to protect my child from this monster.
Andrei enters from the kitchen carrying a glass of water and my medication, coming to cross in front of me. “Your blood pressure may spike when you hear the rest,” he warns, handing me the pills once I set my tea down. I take them, even if my hand shakes so much the water spills a little down the glass.
Roman swipes to another screen. “He’s been acquiring medical equipment. Specifically, equipment for premature births and neonatal care.”
Rowan’s hand covers mine on my stomach, his gesture protective and reassuring even as it feels like my world is once again spinning out of control.
“He’s planning to take him.” My voice is a whisper of despair, the realisation making tears spring to my eyes as it hits me. He’s won so many times. How will we ever stop him?
“Over my dead body,” Hunter growls, his hand squeezing mine as his eyes bore into me, emerald fire promising me that Sergi won’t get near me or our child.
“That’s exactly what he’s counting on,” Nik mutters, and my head snaps to him as his expression darkens. “But it won’t happen, Moye Solntse, I swear it.”
The new baby monitor the guys picked up on the mainland, which is sitting next to my medications on the counter, suddenly crackles to life, and I swear to fuck I jump out of my skin. We all freeze, turning to stare at it with wide eyes as a voice comes through the speaker, cultured, accented, and chillingly familiar.
“Such devotion,” Sergi’s voice purrs, and bile fills my throat at hearing it after all this time. Dark memories of my time with him try to resurface, but I push them down, squeezing Hunt’s hand so hard his bones creak. “I’ve always admired that about your men, Iris. It will make it so much more satisfying when they fall one by one, my disappointment of a son included.”
A broken whimper falls from my lips as Nik lunges for the monitor, throwing it against the wall. It shatters into pieces, but it’s too late. The damage has been done, Sergi’s threats and mind games eating away at my sanity.
“Shit! He’s somehow fucking bugged the house,” Roman hisses, the realisation dawning in all of us that Sergi is far more in control than we knew. “The baby things—”
“Search everything,” Nik orders, already pulling apart the rattle as the others get up and start pulling apart everything we have brought into this space. “Now!”
I’m left on the sofa, arms wrapped around myself as once again, Sergi Petrov proves I am trapped. That I am under his control, at his mercy.
NIKOLAI
Hours later, we found and destroyed three listening devices and swept the entire property. Andrei sent Iris to bed, sitting with her and monitoring her as her blood pressure had spiked to dangerous levels with the stress of it all. Loathing is too gentle of a word to describe how I feel about that man, that cunt of a sperm donor who dares to threaten me and my genuine family.
I find Roman on the beach, staring out at the dark water, the breeze light and smelling of the beautiful tropical flowers that grow all around us, which is beautifully deceptive given the danger we find ourselves in.
“This is my fault,” Roman says without turning, his voice desolate and shoulders rounded. “I led him right to us. If I hadn’t gone to Singapore—”
“No,” I state firmly, cutting him off as I wrap my arms around him from behind, then pulling him back into my body until there is no space between us. “This was always his play. My father thrives on fear. He wants us looking over our shoulders, jumping at shadows.”
“If he knows exactly where we are, why hasn’t he already moved on us?” Roman asks, voicing the question we’ve all been thinking ever since that fucking package was left on our doorstep. “He has the resources. He could have sent a team.”
My lips curve in a wintry smile. “Because this isn’t just about retrieving Iris or eliminating me. It’s about breaking us first.” I sigh, watching as the waves lap at the shore. Calm, peaceful, and so at odds with the turmoil I feel inside. “My father believes fear is more effective than force. He wants us to tear ourselves apart with paranoia, make mistakes, turn on each other. Only when we’re weakened and desperate, consumed by terror, will he strike.”
“And the baby gifts? The listening devices?” I’ve no doubt Roman hasn’t had an easy life. I know some of his shitty childhood from research I did back when Iris was first with the Shadows, but he’s not experienced the level of calculated evil that is Sergi Petrov before. I, however, have been dealing with it my entire life. Enough that a part of me wonders if I am like him, if my father’s evil is genetic and runs through my veins, through Iris’s baby’s veins.
“A message that no place is safe. That he can reach us anytime, anywhere.” I sigh, so fucking tired of these games. “But there’s something else. The medical equipment, the preparations for a premature birth. He’s waiting.”
Roman’s body stiffens in front of me, understanding hitting him. “For Iris to be further along. He wants to ensure the baby survives if something happens during extraction. Shit, that’s…that’s beyond fucked.”
“Exactly. My father wants his child. His heir.” My lip curls, not because my father sees this baby as my replacement, but at the thought that my sibling, my son, would ever experience a childhood like mine. Not fucking happening. “He’s playing a long game. Letting Iris’s pregnancy progress while he watches us, torments us.”
“What about Iris? Her blood pressure—”
“Is being monitored by Andrei. The medication helps and I trust that man with my life, and that of my soulmate and our unborn child.” My jaw tightens, a deep inhale expanding my chest. “We move up our timeline. I’ve already spoken to Alexei.”
“To what end? We’re compromised here, but moving Iris in her condition…” he trails off, and I don’t need him to finish. I know it’s a risk, but we have no choice, not now that Sergi knows where we are.
“Is a risk we have to take. He’s not just threatening us now, he’s threatening my family, our son, Lev.” My voice turns cold, dangerous. “He thinks he’s hunting us. I’m going to remind him that Petrovs are the predators, not the prey.”
Roman turns in my arms, studying my face, and whatever he sees there makes him straighten. “What do you need me to do?”
My chest fills with warmth at his simple request, because it means so much more than the mere words. It means he’s family, that I am not alone, and that we’re all in this together. It means love, which is something Sergi has never had, so he’s blind to the strength it can give us. It’s enough to overthrow a mafia tyrant.
“Pack. Tell the others. We leave at dawn. We’re going to beat him at his own game.” I cup his cheek in my palm, placing a fierce kiss on his plush lips. He gives in immediately, opening up to me completely. Then I pull away sharply, both of us breathless. “And I need you to make one more call to your cousin in Singapore. We’re going to leave my father a message of our own.”
“What kind of message?” Roman’s face is full of adorable confusion, and I kiss the furrow between his brows. When I pull back to look into his eyes again, I know my smile is all teeth.
“The kind that reminds him I know his weaknesses too. I want information on his primary residence in London—security rotations, recent deliveries, staff changes, but more importantly, I want the locations of his three favourite mistresses.”
“You wouldn’t—”
“I won’t harm them, Lev.” My voice is measured, controlled, and has a thread of excitement playing Sergi at his own game. And winning. “But my father needs to understand that his psychological games work both ways. He threatens what I love? I can do the same. Or at the very least, threaten what he needs to relieve stress. He doesn’t trust easily, so these women are key.”
“Rowan and Hunt won’t like this,” Roman says quietly, nibbling his lower lip. “Iris too. Using innocent women as leverage.”
“Then they don’t need to know the details. All that matters is getting Iris to safety.” I turn to face the house. “Besides, we both know my father doesn’t truly love anyone. But his pride? His reputation? Those are vulnerabilities we can exploit.”
Roman nods slowly, pulling out his phone. “I’ll make the call.”
