Page 26 of Filthy Lies

I lead her through the house to a room near the master bedroom. The door slides open silently, revealing a fully equipped nursery—pale eggshell walls, a snow-white crib, stuffed animals arranged on shelves.

Rowan gasps. “When did you…?”

“I had it prepared when I bought the property.” I run my hand over the crib railing. “Just in case.”

Tears fill her eyes. “It’s perfect.”

I take Sofiya from her arms. It still terrifies me, how small she is. How fragile. But I’m learning.

I place her in the crib. She stirs briefly before settling again, one tiny fist escaping the blanket to rest beside her face.

Rowan leans against me. “We should sleep while she does.”

“You sleep,” I tell her. “I’ll watch over you both.”

She studies me for a moment, then nods. “Okay. But just for tonight.”

I help her to the master bedroom, where she practically collapses onto the bed. Within seconds, she’s asleep, breathing gently.

I return to the nursery and pull a chair beside Sofiya’s crib. From here, I can see both her and the doorway to our bedroom. I check my phone. It’s glowing with messages from Arkady about the ongoing hunt for the Solovyovs, reports on my father’s movements, updates on security measures at Akopov properties across the tri-state area.

The world outside is still in chaos.

But that’s outside.

In here, I have the only sounds I need. My woman. My daughter.

The hunt can wait until morning.

11

VINCE

I kiss Sofiya’s forehead one last time before I leave.

“I’ll be back tonight,” I tell Rowan. She’s propped up against the headboard, our daughter tucked in her arms. “The security team has explicit instructions. No one enters without my authorization.”

Rowan’s eyes—tired but alert—find mine. “Where are you going?”

I could lie. Make up some bullshit about supply runs or security sweeps. But we promised no more half-truths between us.

“To see my father.”

Her body tenses immediately. “Vince?—”

“It needs to be done.” I check my weapon and slide it into its holster. “This can’t wait.”

“He tried to have me kidnapped while I was in labor.” The tremor in her voice betrays the trauma still lurking beneath her calm exterior. “Are you sure this is wise?”

No. I’m not fucking sure of anything anymore.

Not since finding her blood on our marble floor.

What Iamsure of is that someone must pay. And payment starts with the man who organized this in the first place.

“If I don’t address this now, he’ll see it as weakness,” I explain, sitting on the edge of the bed. “And weakness invites more attempts.”

She squints as she studies my face. “You’re going to kill him.”

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