Sienna
Elif projected another file onto the screen in her husband’s office, a profile containing the photograph and information of one of the women from the major Bratva families. Information that was useless to me, since I already knew it all by heart. After all, I had been working more or less for the Bratva for eight years, even if the bosses had never known it. Vassili had hidden us well inside his business, a business the Ivanovs knew nothing about, a business I wanted to expose but could not, not as long as Vassili still held my leash. Not as long as I refused to let them discover what I truly was.
A network rooted so deeply, spreading so far, growing so powerful, a business that should no longer remain in Vassili’s hands. I was working on it. I would find a way to free all those women, to kill the Master and all his disciples, and to bring the truth into the open before the Ivanovs. But for now, I had to wait.
I stared at the screen with a bored expression while Elif explained everything we needed to know about Natalia Orlov. I glanced at my sister sitting beside me and couldn’t help snorting when I saw her half-asleep. She hadn’t really woken up from her nap, pregnancy was exhausting her, and we were all doing our best to help her, especially with the boys constantly demanding her attention. But no one could replace their mother, a mother the twins and Mikhail had only recently recovered. As if summoned by the thought, Mikhail entered the room just then, knocking softly, a tray in his hands. “Everything okay, sweetheart?” my sister asked, straightening up. “Yes. I broughtyou a strawberry smoothie, Mom. I added the vitamins your doctor prescribed,” he said, setting the tray on the table.
I hid my smile behind my hand. It never ceased to amaze me how attentive the Ivanov men were toward the women of the house, from the youngest to the oldest. No one was treated as secondary or insignificant. And that was something I had loved about the Ivanovs from the very beginning. After all those years witnessing how women were treated like objects, like toys for the most perverse fantasies… in a world where betrayal and injustice were routine, where trust was nothing but a tool to be exploited, this family was different. Here, family stood at the center of every decision. Everything was done for its protection, for its survival. And when everyone fought toward the same goal, success became inevitable. That was why they were so powerful.
“And what about us? Do we count for nothing?” Elif suddenly asked, crossing her arms despite the smile on her lips. Mikhail looked at us, cheeks flushing adorably. “Leave him alone! This one’s just for me!” Selina said, opening her arms. “Thank you, sweetheart, it’s perfect,” she kissed his cheek, making him blush even more. My smile widened as warmth spread through my chest. Mikhail, Andrei, Alexei, even Ivan and Dimitri, to me, there was no difference between them and Rafael. I would do anything to protect them. Hadn’t I already done so, months ago? My gaze drifted to my right palm, where a thin scar crossed my skin, one of the few my body bore. I brushed it with my thumb as memories of that dark night resurfaced.
I pulled the blanket higher over Dimitri, Andrei, and Rafael, who had fallen asleep tangled together, smiles still lingering on their faces. It wasn’t surprising; they had drifted off telling stupid jokes and giggling. I’d had to force them to sleep, since it was nearly four in the morning. Elif and Selina would kill me if their kids couldn’t stand upright tomorrow, kids Iadored. I hadn’t spent much time around children before, and I never thought I had a maternal instinct, certainly not like my sister. But being with these little monsters did me good. They were carefree, innocent, free. Free from the world surrounding them… for now. Their origins would eventually catch up with them. They would grow into men like their fathers and uncles. Even Rafael would follow that path now.
I slid under my makeshift bedding on the floor. A draft slipped under the door, so I’d chosen that spot to keep the children warm. The wind howled outside, branches swaying, but the sound didn’t bother me. I was used to noise. I could fall asleep in the middle of a nightclub if I had to. I sighed as my thoughts drifted toward my Shadow. He had been brooding a lot lately, and I knew exactly why, though he refused to talk about it. He could be just as stubborn as I was. I needed to find a way to distract him. My thoughts softened into murmurs as sleep began to pull me under… when suddenly something changed.
My eyes snapped open and fixed on the wall opposite me, where the shadows of branches danced through the window. I didn’t move. The first thing Ashwin had taught Kenji and me was to identify the threat before acting.
Something was wrong. The air felt different. Too still. The soft draft under the door had stopped. My gaze slid toward the door at the foot of the mattress, and my throat tightened when I saw shadows shifting on the other side. My eyes darted to the metal pen the boys had left on the floor. My hand slid from under the blanket and wrapped around it. Cold. Heavy. Good. I slipped it beneath my pillow just as the door handle slowly turned. My eyes closed, my heart pounding wildly. Fear flooded me, real fear, but nothing was going to happen to those kids. Not on my watch. Never.
Footsteps entered the room. One person? No, two. Heavy steps, deliberately quiet. I recognized the rhythm instinctively.“Which one is it?” a rough voice whispered near my bed, “I don’t fucking know. Why are there so many kids and a woman? They said there were only three,” another voice replied sharply.
Someone had helped them in. Someone had given them information about where the boys slept. “I think it’s this one. He kind of looks like Rasili,” the first voice muttered. My breath caught. Rasili. Italians. They had infiltrated the house. It didn’t matter. I had to act. They were here for Rafael. “Give me the sedative. I’ll handle it,” the impatient one growled, stepping closer to the boys’ bed as my fingers tightened around my weapon.
"Do you think Pablo took care of Nikolai Ivanov? He has to kill him and get the boss's wife," he suddenly grumbled as I felt him bend over the boys. The moment he mentioned my sister, my body reacted on instinct. I threw off the blanket with a shout that echoed through the house and drove the pen straight into the thigh of the man with the rough voice, the bigger one, just as I’d guessed. He screamed. I smashed my elbow into the second man’s throat as he turned in surprise. The boys woke screaming. My eyes met Mikhail’s as he leapt from the bed, dragging his cousins toward the back of the room, yelling for them not to move. The second man grabbed my hair, but I already had his wrist in a hold. I spun around without letting go and twisted his arm, making him scream. His other hand reached down toward his boot, and I saw the glint of his knife. Unfortunately for him, I was more agile than he was. I bent down, grabbed the knife sleeve before he did, and pushed him with my shoulder. His feet got tangled up in the boys' toys, and he fell halfway onto my mattress. I saw the blow coming out of the corner of my eye and, despite my best efforts, I couldn't dodge it. The burly man's fist met my cheek and the pain exploded, but I ignored it. I would feel it later. Adrenaline helped me, and I crouched down, dodging the second blow. Istood up, knife in hand, and without hesitation, I plunged it into the man's ribs, taking advantage of the opening. He screamed, but I was already pulling the weapon out, pushing him with my forearm. "Puttana!" (bitch) yelled the second man as he approached behind me. Gunshots rang out in the villa as my fingers tightened around the knife handle. The boys' cries filled the room as an iron grip grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. Big mistake. Before the man had time to raise his fist, my knife was already slicing his throat with a swift, precise movement. Blood spurted out, hot and viscous.
His hands closed around his own throat as he dropped to his knees, gurgling, his eyes rolling back. I staggered backward, breathless, sweat running down my spine. The sight of blood did nothing to me. The man dying in front of me did nothing to me. The life I had just taken did nothing to me. I had seen and felt the cruelty of this world far too long ago and I had done far worse, hadn’t I?
“So much worse,” a dark voice whispered in my ear, and I shuddered. Not now. Not now.
An arm suddenly locked around my neck, cutting off my breath. “Ti ucciderò, troia!” (I'll kill you, bitch!) the brute snarled behind me as his arm tightened around my throat. “Zia!” Rafael screamed, but Mikhail stepped in front of him, eyes wide with terror. Fear. They were afraid and so was I. I was terrified. I didn’t want to die, damn it. I lifted the knife, trying to reach him, but he dodged and hurled me violently across the beds. I crashed to the floor, the knife slipping from my grip.Shit. I groaned and tried to push myself up, searching blindly for the weapon in the darkness. Suddenly a hand clamped around my throat again and my back slammed into the wall. “Morirai, stronza,” (you're going to die, bitch,)he hissed, his face close to mine. I tried to pry his grip open, my hands clutching his wrist, but it was useless. He growled and slammed me harder against the wall. Pain exploded at the back of my skull. His second hand closed around my neck, and soon my feet were no longer touching the ground. Air vanished. Panic clawed through me. He slammed my over and over the wall, my vision blurring, darkening at the edges. I tried to reach his face, but he shoved my arms away with his shoulders.
This was it.
So this was how I was going to die. It wasn’t so bad, dying while protecting my nephews. A fitting end. A heroic one, even. Far better than I deserved. A good end for a coward like me.
Then a scream tore through the haze, and my body crashed to the floor. I dragged in a huge, burning breath and started coughing violently, my throat tearing apart with every gasp. My throat hurt like hell. I opened my eyes as my vision slowly cleared. The brute was screaming, clutching his thigh, the knife I had dropped was now buried deep in the back of it. My gaze slid toward the boys, and a sob escaped me when I saw Mikhail standing there, his hand smeared with blood, his eyes wide and frozen on the man. He was shaking. “You little bastard!” the man roared, yanking the knife from his leg before turning toward Mikhail. “I’ll kill you first!” He limped forward, raising the bloodied blade high.No. No!
I pushed myself up, my legs trembling but holding.Thank God, I moved fast, throwing myself between the man and the children. My hand closed around the blade as he brought it down. Pain exploded, white-hot, blinding. I felt my skin tear, blood spill, but I held on. I wanted to scream, but my throat was too damaged for any sound to come out. The tip of the blade grazed Mikhail’s forehead. He didn’t move, his eyes wide with terror as the others cried behind him. The man snarled, his gaze locked on mine, and pushed harder. Pain ripped through meand I sobbed, but I didn’t let go. My grip tightened around the slick blade. If someone had to die today, it would be me. No one was touching those children. Not ever.
A gunshot rang out.
The man collapsed onto us, making the boys scream. I released the knife as it clattered to the floor. Heavy footsteps rushed in, and a sob of relief tore from my chest when I heard Nikolai calling Mikhail’s name. They were safe, the children were safe. Nikolai was alive, which meant my sister was alive too. The adrenaline drained all at once, and my body followed. Pain flooded everywhere, my cheek, my back, my throat, my hand, my head pounding like a stampede inside my skull. Suddenly the dead weight was lifted off me, the stench of cigarettes fading. Warm hands cupped my face. “Sienna? Sienna, look at me. Come on, moya Angel, focus on my voice.” The voice was distant, muffled. I forced my eyes open and found blue, cold, calm. Sasha. He was there. He had come.
I tried to sit up, clutching my injured hand, “I’m fine,” I whispered, though it was far from true. Everything doubled, two Sashas, which was definitely too many, even if thinking about it, in bed might yield something interesting, oh fuck.
More footsteps echoed as my body began to shake harder, the last traces of adrenaline draining away. A warm hand gently took my injured one, and through my blurred vision I saw my sister. She was safe.Thank God.
“Sienna, you need stitches,” she sobbed, her eyes full of panic,“I’m fine,” I repeated, or thought I did, before everything went black.
The pain came back first. My head felt like it was going to split open. I groaned, my throat burning as if I’d swallowed fire. Damn it, he hadn’t missed. “Sienna?” a voice called softly as cool fingers brushed my burning forehead. It felt so good. I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids were heavy,“Sienna?Angel, open your eyes”. I obeyed slowly. Blue. Cold. Calm. “Sas…” my voice broke into a coughing fit, my throat flaring with pain. “Easy, easy, sweetheart. Don’t try to speak. Your throat…” he closed his eyes, his trembling hand grabbing gently my injured one. Sasha… trembling?
“Your vocal cords were damaged,” he continued softly. “The doctor said you won’t be able to speak for a while. But you’ll recover. You’re going to heal. You will.” he repeated it, as if trying to convincing himself. My fingers tightened around his, and I lifted my other hand, the one with the tubes, toward his face. His eyes followed the movement and he leaned in immediately, my cold, tingling fingers brushed his warm cheek. He caught my wrist gently and pressed a kiss into my palm, eyes closing, brow drawn tight. He breathed me in, and a tear slipped from my eye as my aching throat tightened. “I’m okay,” I whispered hoarsely, he let my fingers slide into his hair, drawing his face closer,“I’m okay,” I repeated and he nodded slowly, eyes locked on mine. I brushed my lips against his, barely there, and the shaky breath that left him made another tear fall. “I was scared,” I whispered. “So scared”. His jaw tightened as he leaned his forehead against mine, trembling hands cupping my face. “I know. I know, Angel, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I wasn’t there,” he repeated softly while I cried against his warmth, against his scent, against his presence. Just this once. Just for a moment. To rest. To breathe.
My sister opened the car door when Roman stopped in front of the villa, but before I could step out, Sasha appeared and lifted me into his arms, carrying me inside. Home.
I closed my eyes and curled against his warmth as he carried me in. Voices greeted us, Velma, Sena, Nikolai, but I was too exhausted to react. I might have been drifting in and out already. I shivered when cool air brushed my skin. “Hmm”.“Shh…everything’s okay, Sweatheart. Everything’s fine,” Sasha murmured as he pulled the covers over me. I was wearing only a white T-shirt and cotton pants. I shivered as my bare feet met the cool sheets. “I’ll ask the girls to make you some warm soup. It’ll help,” he said, straightening up to leave. I caught the sleeve of his sweatshirt before he could go and he froze, then sat beside me at once, taking my hand. “What is it? Are you in pain? Do you need painkillers?”
I shook my head gently, with everything they had given me at the hospital, I barely felt anything right now. “The…” I tried to speak, wincing, I needed something to write with. My phone, where was it? “Wait,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket and opening the notes app before handing it to me. I typed quickly with one hand and showed him the screen.
