No. Not while I’m breathing.
4
Konstantin
“Hold the Makarov like this.” I adjust Nikolai’s grip, moving his fingers off the barrel. His hands are still smaller than mine but steady enough for a twelve-year-old. “You’re not here to break your wrist. Keep it steady.”
His hands tremble—barely noticeable, but I see it. Nikolai’s gray-blue eyes, so much like my own, narrow as he focuses on the pistol. He’s overthinking, as always, analyzing every angle instead of trusting himself. Nikolai doesn’t argue; he nods, his jaw tightening as he refocuses on the target thirty feet ahead. The boy’s a thinker, not a fighter, but that won’t matter in the world waiting for him. Thought alone won’t keep him alive.
Lev, standing to my right, stockier and more muscular than Nikolai, has the same sandy blond hair, though his is tousled and wild, matching his restless personality. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Lev’s eyes glint with impatience as he grips his pistol like it’s an extension of his arm, brimming with confidence hehasn’t earned yet. The smirk tugging at his lips is so familiar it might as well be a mirror of my own from a time long past.
“Let me go first. I’ll nail it.”
“Patience.” My voice is sharp enough to stop him mid-shift. “This isn’t a competition.”
Lev’s shoulders tense for a moment, but he recovers fast, rolling them back and smirking. He needs to learn control, but I can’t fault his instinct to dive in. That recklessness has its place—it’s just not here.
I step back, gesturing to Nikolai. “Whenever you’re ready.”
The boy breathes in slowly, raising the gun. His stance is solid, just as I showed him, but his aim wavers. He hesitates. A bead of sweat drips down the side of his temple despite the cool morning air. The gun doesn’t fire.
Lev exhales loudly, arms crossed. “He’s overthinking again. Just pull the damn trigger,Kolya.”
“Shut up, Lev,” Nikolai mutters, his eyes narrowing at the target.
I glance at Lev, raising a brow. He knows better than to interfere, but his restless energy can’t stay contained. It’s like watching a tightly wound spring ready to snap.
“Let him finish,” I say. “You’ll have your turn.”
Nikolai finally fires, the crack of the shot breaking through the quiet forest clearing. The bullet grazes the edge of the target, barely leaving a mark. His lips press into a thin line, frustration flickering in his eyes.
Lev snickers. “Barely counts.”
“Lev.” My tone drops, low and cutting. “Enough.”
He straightens, the smirk falling from his face. The twins may be different in every way, but they both know when to step back.
“Again,” I say to Nikolai. “Aim lower. Focus on where you want the shot to land, not on where it might go.”
He adjusts his stance, hands steadying as he takes another shot. This time, it hits closer to the center. A small improvement, but not enough. He doesn’t celebrate. He never does.
Lev steps forward, practically vibrating with eagerness. “My turn now?”
I nod and watch as he takes the position Nikolai just left. He doesn’t need instruction—not yet, anyway. Lev raises his gun, aims, and fires in one fluid motion. The bullet punches cleanly through the center of the target.
“Bullseye.” Lev grins, lowering the gun with a cocky tilt of his head. “Told you.”
“Again,” I say, crossing my arms. “Ten more. Hit the center every time, or it’s worthless.”
Lev huffs but obeys, raising the gun for another shot. This isn’t about their individual talents or what they think they can do. It’s about discipline—something they both lack in their own ways. Nikolai hesitates too much. Lev doesn’t think enough. Between the two of them, they could be unstoppable. If I can mold them.
But time… Time is always against me.
As Lev fires again, I glance toward the forest’s edge, my jaw clenching. The weight of the conversation from earlier this morning presses against my chest, as unwelcome as the cold air slicing through the trees. The council wants answers. My father’s legacy demands them. A wife. A fucking wife. As if that’s supposed to fix everything.
I run a hand over my stubble, exhaling slowly. My sons don’t notice—they’re too focused on the task at hand, as they should be. They don’t know the stakes. Not yet. But they’ll have to learn. If I fail to fulfill the terms of my father’s will, everything I’ve built will fall apart, and it won’t just be me paying the price.
“Lev,” I bark, snapping back to the moment. His last shot veered wide. “You’re rushing. Again.”
