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I rub a hand over my face, feeling the beginnings of a headache throbbing at my temples. I know what I have to do, but the thought of it, of the deals I’ll have to strike and the favors I’ll have to call in, it makes my skin crawl.

Because I can’t do this alone. As much as I might want to, as much as every instinct in me rebels against the idea, I’m going to need help. I’m going to need resources, manpower, the kind of backing only the other families can provide.

The Sokolovs. The Brennans. The Santoros.

Fuck me.

Leo Santoro, Seraphina’s father. The man who would like nothing more than to put a bullet between my eyes for daring to lay a hand on his precious daughter. And Cillian Brennan, her uncle, who no doubt shares that sentiment.

Then there’s Maksim and Nikolai Sokolov. I think there probably would be a fight between Leo and the Sokolovs on who would want to tear me apart first. The irony isn’t lost on me that the key to keeping Katerina and our child safe might just lie in the hands of the very people who hate me most in this world.

But what choice do I have? Russo’s a threat to all of us. If I’m going to take him down and protect what’s mine I can’t afford to let silly grudges stand in my way.

At the end of the day, there’s nothing I won’t do to keep Katerina and our baby safe. No line I won’t cross, no devil I won’t bargain with.

I lean back in my chair, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. Brennan, Santoro, the Sokolovs…it’s like a fucking cosmic joke at my expense. The four men who have the most reason to want me dead, and here I am, getting ready to play nice and ask for their help.

If there’s a god out there, he must be laughing his ass off right about now.

But hey, at least I’ll be in good company in hell. I’m pretty sure they’ve got a special place reserved for guys like me, right between the traitors and the hypocrites.

The thought brings a grim smile to my face. Time to start making calls.

Fuck my life.

17

KATERINA

The days drag by in a haze of unease, the memory of my confrontation with Nico a constant weight in the pit of my stomach. I try to lose myself in the routine of caring for Seraphina, but even the simplest tasks are overlaid with a veneer of anxiety.

Seraphina, of course, is oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface. At two years old, she’s a whirlwind of energy and mischief, her vivacious spirit and clever mind keeping me constantly on my toes.

“Kat, look!” she chirps, tugging on my hand to get my attention. “I drawed a picture!”

She thrusts a piece of paper at me, a riot of colorful scribbles and shapes. I can make out what might be a sun, a flower, and a stick figure with wild brown scribbles for hair.

“Is that me?” I ask, pointing to the figure. Seraphina nods, her little face glowing with pride.

“Uh-huh! That’s Nico, and a doggy, and…”

She prattles on, pointing out each element of her masterpiece with an enthusiasm that makes my heart ache. I find myself wondering, not for the first time, how Leo Santoro is going to handle this little spitfire when she’s a teenager.

“He’s gonna go gray before he’s forty,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head. Seraphina looks up at me, her head cocked in curiosity. Sometimes I forget just how intelligent Seraphina is. Her language skills are way more advanced than any other toddler I know.

“Gray?” she asks in confusion, dark eyebrows furrowed.

“Nothing, girly pop,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “Your daddy’s just in for a wild ride, that’s all.”

She accepts this with a solemn nod, as if she’s understood what I said. Then she’s off again, dashing across the room to grab another toy.

I watch her play, trying to ignore the nausea churning in my gut. Morning sickness has been hitting me hard the past few days, and the constant low-grade stress isn’t helping.

How am I going to do this?

How am I going to be a mother when the thought of being responsible for another life terrifies me down to my bones?

Whenever I’ve had to deal with screaming children in the ER, I’ve been the first one to flee the room, leaving the comforting to the nurses and the parents.