Page 99 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

I stiffen as Nikolai continues, “Think about it. The missing shipment—Katya was on the plane with you when it happened. The bloody boxes? They appeared when she arrived. The fireworks? She was in the room. This isn’t just about you, Igor. This is about her.”

The realization hits me like a freight train. My stomach twists painfully as the pieces click into place. All this time, I thought I was the target. But what if it’s not me? What if it’s her?

“If that’s true,” I mutter, rising from my seat, “then she’s still in danger.”

Vasiliy stands too, his expression darkening. “Where is she now?”

“With Aleks and Dominik,” I tell him. “At the hospital with Sofiya.”

Vasiliy’s jaw tightens. “If Igor says she’s safe, then let’s focus on the plan. Maksim is the key. He’s connected to all of this.”

Nikolai nods, his tone decisive. “We need to move fast. Vasiliy, work your contacts. Use whatever resources you have to find the bastard.”

“And when we find him,” I add, my voice low and full of promise, “he’ll wish he’d never been born.”

The walk to the Volkovs’ armory feels longer than it should. The air between us is heavy with history that neither of us wants to address right now. Nikolai moves with his usual confidence. He’s always been a master of control, but I know him well enough to see the cracks. His shoulders are just a little tighter, his jaw a little more clenched. Beneath the calm, he’s barely holding his rage in check.

I respect that. It mirrors my own state of mind.

When we reach the armory, Nikolai swipes his card and presses his thumb to the biometric scanner. The door unlocks with a satisfying click, revealing a room that looks like a warlord’s dream. Floor-to-ceiling shelves are lined with every weapon imaginable, from sleek sniper rifles to compact pistols. There’s a workbench covered in tools for assembling or customizing weapons, and a wall-mounted screen displays surveillance feeds and tactical maps.

“Suit up,” Nikolai says, gesturing to the room. “Take whatever you need.”

I step inside, the smell of gun oil and steel hitting me immediately. My hands itch. As I move toward the weapons rack, Nikolai leans against the doorframe, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“You know,” he says after a moment, his tone lighter than I expect, “don’t get used to us being friendly. I don’t hand out favors often.”

I glance at him, smirking as I pick up a Glock and check its weight. “Don’t worry. I’m not planning to make a habit of raiding your armory.”

He chuckles, the sound low and short. “Good. Because if you did, I’d have to charge you a fortune. And I know your business isn’t as profitable as mine.”

I snort, shaking my head.

“But seriously, Igor.” He grins. “Maksim isn’t just another street thug. He’s calculating and dangerous. Don’t underestimate him.”

“I don’t plan to,” I reply, grabbing a tactical vest and strapping it on. “But let me make one thing clear, Nikolai. When we find him, I’m the one who finishes him.”

His grin fades. “Fine. But if you hesitate for even a second, I’ll do it myself. I won’t risk him slipping through our fingers.”

“Deal.” I fasten the vest and grab extra magazines.

For a moment, the room falls silent except for the sounds of me gearing up. Nikolai watches, arms crossed. I can feel the weight of his scrutiny, but I don’t let it bother me. We might not see eye to eye on most things, but right now, we’re aligned. For the first time in years, I feel like we’re truly on the same side.

As I finish strapping on the last of my gear, Nikolai pushes off the doorframe and walks over to the surveillance screen. He taps a few buttons, bringing up a map of the city.

“Vasiliy will have Maksim’s location soon,” he says, all business again. “When he does, we’ll strike fast and hard. No room for mistakes.”

“Understood,” I reply, sliding my pistol into its holster. “I’ll have Konstantin prep my men. The second we have a location, we move.”

Nikolai nods, his eyes never leaving the map. “We’ll make this right,” he says quietly, almost to himself.

“We will,” I agree calmly. But my blood is boiling with anticipation. Maksim has no idea what’s coming for him.

As I finish checking my gear, Vasiliy walks in, his expression grim but determined. “We’ve got him,” he announces, holding up his phone. “I’ve pinpointed Maksim’s location. He’s holed up in a warehouse on the edge of Queens.”

“Perfect,” Nikolai says, his voice like steel. He turns to me, his eyes blazing. “Let’s go hunting.”

36

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