Page 30 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

“Katya,” Nikolai calls out, his voice halting my steps.

I turn, and his expression softens just slightly. “No hug for your big brother?”

I glance at Igor, whose jaw clenches at Nikolai’s words. His irritation is palpable, but I couldn’t care less. Rolling my eyes at his territorial glare, I rush into Nikolai’s arms.

The moment his strong arms wrap around me, the tears I’ve been holding back spill over. Silent, hot streaks roll down my cheeks as I press my face against his shoulder.

“It’ll be okay,” Nikolai murmurs, his voice low and steady. “Sofiya needs this. Just hang in there.”

For a fleeting moment, I let myself believe him.

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The car ride to Igor’s condo is quiet, almost stifling.

Sofiya sits between us in the backseat, intently looking out the window. She watches the city with wide eyes, drinking in theunfamiliar sights. It’s her first time outside Moscow, and despite the long flight, her curiosity hasn’t dimmed.

Igor remains silent, his presence a heavy weight in the enclosed space. I don’t dare glance at him, keeping my focus on Sofiya instead.

When we pull up to the sleek high-rise in Brooklyn Heights, before I can even unbuckle my seatbelt, his large hand engulfs her tiny one as he helps her out with surprising gentleness.

I watch him closely, my stomach tightening at the sight.

He grabs our bags with ease, then turns to me, his arm shooting out in a silent command. He doesn’t need to say anything—his expectation is clear.

Follow.

I grit my teeth, swallowing the bitter retort bubbling up my throat, and grab Sofiya’s other hand.

This will be a test of patience—for both of us.

The elevator ride is silent, save for the faint hum of the machinery. Igor doesn’t look at me, his gaze fixed ahead, but I can feel the tension radiating off him in waves. Sofiya, oblivious to the weight of it all, grips her teddy bear tightly and bounces slightly on her feet.

When the doors slide open, I step out behind Igor—and freeze.

My breath catches in my throat, my hand tightening instinctively around Sofiya’s.

Blood.

It’s everywhere.

The entrance to Igor’s condo is a scene straight out of a nightmare. Dark, sticky crimson pools around shoe boxes scattered haphazardly across the floor. Some are partially open, revealing… I can’t bring myself to finish the thought.

My heart pounds wildly as I pull Sofiya behind me, shielding her from the horrific sight. I can barely breathe. My mind races with gruesome possibilities, each one worse than the last.

Igor steps forward, his posture rigid, his expression dark. He pulls a gun from his waistband, scanning the corridor with sharp, calculating eyes.

His voice is low and clipped as he pulls out his phone. “Code fucking red,” he barks. “Get everyone here. Now.”

The sight of all those bloody boxes outside Igor’s apartment is enough to make my stomach churn. Sofiya clutches my hand tightly, her wide eyes darting between me and the bloodstained floor. Her little fingers dig into my palm, trembling.

“Something’s wrong,”she signs, her movements hesitant and unsure.

I kneel in front of her, forcing myself to block out the gruesome scene surrounding us and focus on her innocent face.“Nothing that can’t be fixed,”I sign back, though my own hands tremble.“We’ll be okay.”

She doesn’t look convinced. Her other hand tightens around the teddy bear she’s been carrying since we left the airport. I force a smile, desperate to distract her.“Remember the boy I told you about?”

Sofiya nods, her lip trembling slightly as her gaze flits toward the blood again.

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