Page 44 of Heritage of Fire

I’m not naive. I’ve been in this world all my life. Even while sequestered away, the murmured plans, the death count for the week—I overheard it all through the walls of our home. Still, nothing really prepares you for getting shot at during a high-speed car chase.

Back at the estate, security meets us at the car to debrief with Nik. I hang back, not wanting to interfere, but also, not wanting to leave Nik.

I’m amazed by him—his ability to handle a situation like that and think through the chaos. Wet clothes cling to his body, and his hair is tousled in all the wrong directions, but he’s steady and solid.

Security listens intently to his orders to find and process the car and then learn what they can from any bullets found. He does a double take when he sees me standing at the entrance to the house and he cuts off his conversation to stride toward me. His hulking form sways with confidence and surety. What would it be like to have that?

“You should go in and get warmed up.”

“I was waiting for you. I didn’t want to just leave.”

Nik towers above me, his eyes widening a fraction at my words.

I step back creating distance to hopefully slow my thrashing heart. Both his hands come up to grip my shoulders, and he turns me around, guiding me from behind toward the front doors. We stumble into the foyer, and Nik’s warm hands drop immediately. I glance behind me to see him clenching his jaw. He’s gone stiff, rod straight, and I shift my gaze toward where he’s looking. There’s an older version of Nik standing at the end of the hallway to our right.

The man’s eyes are trained on us. He lifts his chin. “Nikolai.”

Nik grimaces. “Father.”

Chapter 19

Nik

Luna’s eyes widen at my acknowledgment of my father. Of all the times for him to show up. Now isnotthe time.

First of all, we’re soaked. Her wet jeans cling to her hips, and her long-sleeve shirt is splotchy in all the wrong places—but, damn, I can’t stop sneaking glances at her. I’m currently fueled with adrenaline, and I have an overwhelming desire to either hit the gym or?—

Now isnotthe time, I chide myself.

My father being here is the last thing I need—the last thingLunaneeds.

“Heard you had some trouble on the road, Nikolai.” His voice booms down the hall, in an authoritative, commanding tone that could rival Vladamir Morozov himself.

People used to shake in fear when in the presence of the Bratva brigadier, who had as little compassion as the pakhan. Viktor Balakin was a force to be reckoned with.

He still is, in his own way.

Part of him became lost, though, when Vladamir died. My father spent thirty-plus years dedicated to the Morozov family. They were friendsandBratva brothers. Loyal unto death.

Often, I wonder if he stepped away because he couldn’t imagine a Bratva world without Vlad. He respects Luka’s position as the pakhan and wants him to thrive as our boss. But I know howI’dfeel if something happened to Luka … I don’t even want to consider it.

Unfortunately, even though he isretired,his criticism ofmywork has not. “Da,” I answer him.

Luna’s gaze flickers back and forth between us as she shuffles on her feet. I raise a brow at her obvious uncertainty.

This isn’t how I wanted to introduce them. I knew it was inevitable they’d meet when we landed in the country—I had a plan. I’d take Luna to a breakfast place; with her actually aware she’s going to meet my father. He’s always happier when food or alcohol is in front of him. And no matter how annoyed he is at my marriage, we’d be in public. And he’s typically self-restrained in public.

“Father, this is Luna Buscetta.” I gesture to her then extend my hand toward my father. “Luna, this is my father, Viktor Balakin.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Luna gives him a shaky smile. One he doesn’t return.

“Ah yes, the Buscetta princess,” he replies, disgust etched on his face.

“Father …”

Luna’s face contorts, but her chin lifts slightly as he moves forward.

My father snorts. “I’ll be the first to admit, I don’t know anything about you. But I do know your family.”

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