Page 32 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

Without a response, he strides out of the room, leaving me alone with the children and the confused woman.

“I’m makingborscht, if you guys are hungry,” she offers timidly in broken English.

“We are not hungry, thank you,” I respond in Russian and observe her expression softening. “ I’m Katya, by the way.”

Damien waves at Sofiya, who clutches her teddy bear tightly to her chest and our focus shifts to the children. Slowly, Sofiya lifts her free hand and waves back, her shyness melting into a tentative smile.

For the first time since we left Moscow, she looks happy.

Sofiya’s still clutching her stuffy, but her attention is now fully on Damien, who is already dragging her to his Lego rocket ship. She watches him with growing curiosity, her earlier unease fading as she signs something to me.

“What’s he saying?”

I glance at Damien, who’s talking a mile a minute about some toy robot in his hands.

“He’s talking about his toys,”I sign back.“Go play. It’s okay.”

She hesitates, looking at me for reassurance. I nod, and finally, she moves toward Damien, her smile growing as he hands her a bright red car.

For a brief moment, the tension eases.

But it doesn’t last.

I glance toward the closed door, my mind racing with questions. Who left those boxes? What kind of hell have we just stepped into?

And how long can I keep Sofiya safe in Igor’s world?

11

IGOR

With Katya and the kids safely inside, I turn my attention to the blood-soaked nightmare waiting for me. Whoever did this wanted to send a message, and they made damn sure I heard it loud and clear. My jaw tightens as I pull out my phone, hitting speed dial. Aleks answers on the second ring.

“Yeah?” His voice is clipped, already sharp with alertness.

“My apartment’s been hit. Get the men and get here. Now.”

A pause, followed by the sound of movement on his end. Aleks doesn’t waste time, doesn’t ask unnecessary questions—that’s one of the reasons I enjoy working with him.

“What happened?” he asks finally, his tone hard.

“Someone left me a message,” I snap, pacing the hallway. My gaze flicks toward the closed apartment door, and for a second, I wonder if Katya’s listening in. Knowing her, she’s probably pressed against the door, catching every word. Not that it matters. The second she gets a chance, she’ll run to her brothers. Vasiliy and Nikolai already hate my guts—this will just give them fresh ammunition to unload on me.

“What kind of message?” Aleks presses.

“I don’t know yet.” My voice drops into a growl. “But it’s bloody. Deliberate. And whoever did it has balls.”

Aleks grunts, frustration leaking through the line. “I’m on my way.”

I hang up without replying, my mind spiraling through the possibilities. Whoever’s bold enough to come at me like this either doesn’t know who they’re dealing with—or worse, they do.

But I don’t go back inside. Not yet. Katya’s already angry enough and dragging her into this isn’t an option. Instead, I keep pacing, clenching and unclenching my fists. Sofiya’s giggles float faintly through the door, followed by Damien’s laughter. The sound twists something sharp in my chest. They’re depending on me to keep them safe, and I can’t afford to mess this up.

The elevator dings, and I’m on autopilot. My gun’s already in hand, aimed steady at the door as it slides open.

Aleks steps out, flanked by Konstantin and three more of my men. His gaze drops to the mess on the floor, and he swears under his breath.

“Fuck.” Aleks shakes his head. “They weren’t kidding.”

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