Page 123 of The Bratva King

“They won’t get near them.”

“You need to think about what happens if this gets worse. If they come at you through her. Through the kid. Are you prepared for that?”

I am. I have to be.

“Yes,” I say.

“Good.” He exhales. “For what it’s worth, I’m happy for you. You deserve something good in your life. Just be smart about it.”

“I will.”

“And Nikolai?”

“Yeah?”

“If you need anything, you call me. Immediately. Don’t try to handle everything alone.”

“I won’t.”

“I mean it.”

“I heard you.”

We end the call, and I sit there for a moment, staring at my phone. Sergei’s right. I’ve made them a target by keeping them here. But sending them away would make them more vulnerable. At least here, I can control the environment. I can protect them.

I want Gabby here. There’s no point in pretending otherwise. She’ll be able to spend more time with Luke. If she insists on working, I’ll make sure she has protection beyond what the casino provides.

I get dressed slowly, favoring my injured shoulder. Black shirt. Black pants. I catch my reflection in the mirror and remember what Gabby said. Like I’m going to a funeral every day.

Maybe I should buy something blue.

I head downstairs and find Irina in the kitchen. She takes one look at me and frowns.

“You should still be in bed.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. Sit. I’ll make you breakfast.”

I take a seat at the island and let her fuss. It’s easier than fighting.

She sets a plate in front of me. Eggs. Toast. Fruit. I eat because I need the energy, not because I’m hungry.

“Did Olga come back last night?” I ask.

“No. She asked me to watch out for Mila. She had to take care of her baby.”

Pasha, six feet and several inches of solid muscle, getting pampered by his mommy. I bet he loved that. I bet the hospital staff loved it even more. A bossy Russian woman who will not hesitate to kill anyone who gets near her baby.

I hear voices in the foyer. I slide off the stool and see Pasha.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask. “You should be in the hospital.”

“Nice to see you too,” he says.

Olga is with him, chattering in Russian. She’s pissed.

“I was discharged this morning.”