Page 3 of The Last Hope

“There are things in life we cannot control, Aliabi(big brother)—these things simply happen. We must learn to accept them and turn them into strength,” Mikhail replied, eyes on his screen, his voice steady.

I watched him typing furiously—he hated using the computer without his glasses, which he’d left at the hotel.

Each of my sons was so different. Mikhail, calm and organized on the surface, ready to explode at the smallest trigger, reminded me of myself—though he often overturned everything in his path. Alexei, detached, immersed in his books and puzzles, reminded me of Sasha—quiet and sharp. And Andrei, the most expressive, spent his time outdoors, especially with the horses. We used to have a bedtime ritual of sharing stories—now, those moments had grown rare.

“I got you, you little shit !” roared Grigori, pulling me from my thoughts.

Roman tried to get up, only to slip. Grigori grabbed his jersey and threw him down again—but ended up tangled in his son’s cleats too. Roman crawled away on all fours, groaning. Grigori rose again, panting, ready to continue the chase—until he stopped, staring at someone ahead.

Roman crouched behind that someone, smirking.

“Nearly forty years old and still chasing your brothers,askim(my love)?” asked Elif, tossing her dark hair and placing a hand on Grigori’s chest.

“Elif, what are you doing here,moykotonok(my kitten)?” Grigori asked softly.

Roman, Sasha, and I grimaced at his sudden tone change.

“What ? Am I not allowed to watch my husband beat his brothers senseless ?” Elif purred, stepping closer.

I stifled a laugh as she grabbed Roman’s ear—without breaking eye contact with her husband—lifted him to his feet, smacked his shin with her stiletto, and shoved him toward the exit. The idiot tripped again before finally reaching the damn door.

“Elif, my Elif, shall we head back to the hotel now ? Come on,moyalapochka(my little darling),” Grigori murmured.

Elif rolled her eyes and pushed him aside with her fingertips.

“Askim, call me after your shower, alright ?” she said, tapping his cheek then she circled him, adjusted her jacket on her shoulders, and beckoned to her sons.

“Mama ! Mama!” Dimitri cried, running to her.

“Oh, my angel, come here,” she said, embracing him as he proudly described his goals. Ivan joined them, showing off bruised knees.

Greg touched Elif’s shoulder, but she brushed him aside again, “Elif, shall we go,moyalapochka?” he tried.

“Grigori Ivanov, how dare you leave our sons in soaked jerseys in this chill ? Want them to get sick ?” she scolded, finger pointed at him.

The mighty head of the Bratva actually took a step back and began to stammer.

Ali chuckled behind me as Sasha left, shaking his head. Andrei slumped against my chest, staring longingly at Elif and her boys. I clenched my jaw and held him tighter—but he pulled away to escape back into his cartoons.

Sighing, I helped Alexei up. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Mikhail packed his laptop and said goodbye to his cousins, followed by his brothers. I slung my bag over my shoulder and waved to Ali.

“Are you sneaking off, brother ?” Grigori asked suddenly, stepping in front of me, hand on my shoulder.

The sneak-off plan had failed. I growled, trying to step around him, but he stopped me again.

“When are you going to stop running, Nikolai ? When will you talk to us ? We’re your family—we want to help you and your sons,” he said.

“I have nothing to say. I don’t need help—we need no one,” I snapped, pulling free and raising my collar.

As I passed Elif, I hugged her briefly. She caught my hand, pressed her finger to my forehead, lifting my head.

“Keep your head high, Niko—eyes on the horizon. Don’t miss your sunrise,” she whispered, I closed my eyes and nodded before squeezing her hand and walking off.

“Don’t be late tonight ! Seven o’clock in the lobby !” Greg called behind me.

I waved once and stepped into the air of Rome to join my sons in the car.

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