Page 167 of Filthy Lies

“It’s done,” I tell her quietly. “I took the deal.”

The relief in her eyes mirrors what I feel in my chest. “So we’re safe? Really safe?”

“As safe as people like us ever get.”

I take Sofiya from her arms, cradling my daughter against my chest. She smells of baby shampoo and innocence—a scent that grounds me, reminds me why I’ve fought so hard to change our family’s path.

“We should celebrate,” Rowan says, her hand resting on my arm. “Just the three of us. Just a normal family dinner.”

The thought is so appealing it makes my chest ache. “I’d like that.”

For a moment, we stand together in the middle of the ballroom, an island of quiet in the sea of noise. Sofiya’s breathing deepens as she falls asleep against my shoulder. Rowan’s hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining.

This is what I’ve been fighting for. This moment. This feeling. This family.

The universe, of course, can’t let me have it for long.

The ballroom doors crash open with enough force to silence the entire room. Heads turn. Conversations halt mid-sentence. The string quartet stops playing.

And there, framed in the doorway like the harbinger of doom he is, stands the last remaining obstacle.

My father.

62

VINCE

My father stands in the doorway like Death himself, though he’s dressed in a three-piece suit instead of a black hood and scythe.

The sudden, suffocating silence in the ballroom is broken only by the clink of champagne flutes and the soft murmur of confusion. Everyone’s collectively holding their breath, waiting to see which Akopov will draw first blood.

My money’s on me.

Andrei’s silver hair catches the light, a mirror image of the premature streaks in mine—a genetic curse binding us together even as we prepare to tear each other apart.

I instinctively shield Sofiya with my body. I don’t even want his eyes to reach my daughter, much less his scarred fucking fingers. Rowan moves closer to me, my little doe pressed to my side.

I just secured our family’s future.

And here he is, ready to rip it all to shreds.

Dimitri appears at my side, face grim. “Boss, we have a situation,” he murmurs.

“I’m pretty fucking aware of that, Dimitri,” I snarl back.

He shakes his head. “It’s not just that. Your father has been approaching council members. Telling them about your arrangement with the feds. I just found out.”

“How the fuck does he know about that?” I keep my voice controlled, but inside, I’m already calculating the damage. The bodies that will drop before this night is over.

“Someone must have talked. Maybe someone in Carver’s office, maybe one of ours—I can’t say right now.” Dimitri’s eyes flick to Andrei, who’s now making his way through the crowd, accepting handshakes and claps on the back like he still runs this fucking family. “He’s gaining traction. Old guard respects him, and betraying the Bratva to the feds… that’s unforgivable in their eyes.”

I hand Sofiya to Rowan. “Get our daughter out of here.”

Her eyes widen, recognizing the storm brewing. “Vince?—”

“Now, Rowan.”

She searches my face, then nods. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she whispers. “Please.”

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