Page 105 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

“I might have something,” Vasiliy interjects, holding up Maksim’s phone. His expression is grim, but there’s a flicker ofhope in his tone. “The picture of Katya? It was sent from Galina’s phone.”

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. My body freezes, my blood turning cold.

I glance at the screen, fury bubbling under the surface. Galina was involved in this? My stomach churns at the thought, but there’s no time to unravel it now.

“We need confirmation,” I mutter, pulling out my own phone, but the cursed signal blackout mocks me. There’s no way to call Aleks, no way to verify any of this.

“Look around,” I order Konstantin. “See if you can find the shipment.”

Konstantin hesitates, glancing between me, Nikolai, and the bloodied corpse at my feet. Then, with a reluctant nod, he disappears into the shadows, searching.

I turn to Ivan, my jaw tightening. “Take me to my brother. Now.”

Ivan doesn’t argue, stepping outside toward the waiting car. Vasiliy and Nikolai follow close behind, their frustration palpable but overridden by the urgency of the situation.

The blood on my knuckles is still warm, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

38

KATYA

Araging headache makes thinking impossible. My eyelids feel glued shut, and even the smallest twitch sends sharp jabs of pain through my skull. I drag in a shallow breath through my cracked lips, my throat burning, and try to shift, but my limbs won’t obey. Something sharp digs into my wrists and ankles.

“Wake up,” a voice snaps, urgent and sharp. “Now.”

A woman’s voice. Low and commanding. Is she talking to me?

Before I can fully grasp what’s happening, the sharp sting of a slap yanks me out of my fog. My cheek burns, and the flood of reality slams into me like a tidal wave.

Shit. This isn’t the hospital.

I taste blood on my tongue and groan, my mind scrambling to piece together the last thing I remember. Then it hits me—I was snatched.

Again.

Someone grabbed me in the hallway. My pulse spikes, and my eyes flutter open, trying to focus.

A striking woman stands in front of me, arms crossed over her chest, exuding venom. Even through the haze clouding my brain, I recognize her—Galina Olenko. I’ve seen her face before, plastered across social media, smug and posing like she owns the world. But the sultry pout she flashes online is long gone, replaced with something cruel.

The room spins when I try to lift my head, forcing me to slump back against the chair. My wrists are tied behind me, my ankles bound to the chair legs. My body is leaden, every muscle bruised and weak. They gave me something, which is still in my system.

“Is all this really necessary?” I rasp, the words scraping out of my dry throat.

Galina’s response is a chuckle—low, sinister, and as cold as ice. It slithers over my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Her smile is venomous, her eyes glittering with malice.

“Some things are necessary,” she says, dragging out the words like a serpent coiling to strike.

My brother always warned me about snakes. One bite, and you’re done.

I clench my jaw, ignoring the throb in my head, and lift my chin to meet her gaze. I won’t let her see me break. Even tied up, drugged, and cornered, I refuse to give her that satisfaction.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, though my heart pounds erratically in my chest.

“There are literally dozens of reasons,” she replies smoothly, her words dripping with disdain.

My fingers twitch behind me, straining against the bindings. Panic starts to creep in, tightening my chest. My mind races for an escape plan, but I can’t think past the rising tide of fear.

“My daughter?” My voice cracks despite my best effort to keep it strong. “Where is she?”

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