Page 147 of The Last Hope

At the same time, Rafael began crying as well, his small hands covering his face—just as I had done in Nikolai’s arms hours earlier.

“What’s going on here?” came my sister’s voice from the doorway, her expression reflecting the same confusion and concern I felt.

I turned back to my sons, stroking their hair as my own desperation grew. “Rafael? Andrei? What happened, my angels? Please, tell me,” I pleaded.

Sienna knelt beside me, resting a comforting hand on Rafael’s thigh. “Hey, little monsters,” she said softly. “Sometimes, being brave means trusting your family. We’ll protect you. I promise.”

Rafael wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffled, then took a deep breath. With heartbreaking resolve, he reached for the zipper of his hoodie and slowly pulled it down.

And my entire world shattered.

Dark bruises marked his delicate neck—familiar bruises. The same kind I had seen on my own skin too many times before.

Sienna gasped beside me as my breath caught in my throat. Andrei hesitated before pulling off his sweater, revealing more bruises along his arms.

“A… Alexei and Mikhail—do they have marks too?” My voice sounded foreign to my own ears.

“No. She only scolded us,” Rafael sniffled.

Onlyscolded?

“Who ?” Sienna asked sharply, wiping the tears from Andrei’s face.

My sons exchanged a glance but didn’t answer, and they didn’t need to. Because I already knew.

“Stay with them,” I told Sienna, rising to my feet with eerie calm. She called after me, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t tremble. I didn’t rage.

I didn’t feel anything.

I only wanted to see fear in Agata’s eyes. The same fear she had planted in my sons.

I wanted to hear her beg.

Chapter thirty-nine

Nikolai

Elif, perched on the armrest of Grigori’s chair, barely refrained from rolling her eyes at Agata’s monologue as the latter sat across from the desk. I struggled just as much, standing behind my brother while Sasha cast me a look from the doorway, waiting for my signal to throw them out.

What was meant to be a meeting about securing our northern border had turned into Agata’s endless speech about her supposed love for her grandsons.

“I can’t imagine living without my three grandsons,” she said, dabbing at a nonexistent tear on her cheek.

“Four,” I cut in suddenly, arms crossed, drawing everyone’s attention. “I have four sons.”

Elif nodded silently, while my brothers kept their eyes locked on Agata and Gelb—never take your eyes off the enemy.

I straightened abruptly at the sound of hurried footsteps outside the office, followed by Roman’s voice. The door burst open, slamming against the wall, and there stood my wife, with Roman just behind her, his expression tense.

“Selina?” I asked, unsure, taking in her face—an expression I had never seen before. Cold. Her breathing came quick, her eyes darted around the room before locking on Agata. Then, the coldness melted into a fury I never thought I’d see in Selina.

She stormed across the room. Agata stumbled as she tried to stand. Selina snatched the Chinese marble sphere from the coffee table, and everything happened in a blur, she swung it with force, striking Agata at the temple. The old womancollapsed as weapons were drawn. Gleb raised his gun at my wife, only to freeze when Sasha and Roman had theirs aimed at him.

Elif and I rushed toward Selina, now on top of Agata, hands wrapped around her throat.

“Is this how you strangled my son, huh ?” she screamed, her voice raw, as Agata turned an alarming shade of blue.

I wrapped my arms around Selina’s waist, trying to pull her back, but she threw her head backward, hitting me square in the chin. I grunted but held on.

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