Page 7 of The Last Hope

I nodded. A moody Grigori was trouble—but an upset Elif ? That would be our downfall. She was the glue that held us together, even in our darkest moments—calm, kind, and stronger than steel.

My jaw clenched as a rush of memories struck me—blood on my hands, on my shirt, the stench of gasoline, the screams…

“Nikolai,” a voice murmured behind me.

My arm tightened around the still-warm body of the woman against me, her blood soaking into my clothes, while my free hand remained clenched around the cold weight of my weapon. The stench of gasoline made me want to retch—it was everywhere : on the furniture, the walls, the floor, mixing with the blood and the sound of a crying baby.

I didn’t react when a hand settled on my shoulder ; I didn’t react when a woman crouched beside me ; I didn’t react when her fingers gently slipped into mine, prying the gun away. It was only when she cupped my frozen face in her warm hands, brushing away tears I hadn’t even realized were falling, and looked into my eyes that I recognized her.

“Elif,” I breathed.

“Yes, it’s me, Niko. It’s going to be alright, it’s going to be alright,” she whispered firmly, her expression serene.

I rubbed my face with my hand, head bowed, trying to anchor myself in the present—but the same scream echoed in my mind, over and over again, a sound that had haunted me for seven long years.

“Why?! Why?!” a woman screamed on repeat.

But her voice faded beneath another, gentler one.

“Keep your head up, Niko. Eyes on the horizon, so you don’t miss the sunrise—your sunrise, understood?” Elif’s voice echoed through my thoughts.

I slowly shook my head, drew a deep breath, and straightened up, trying to regain control. But I froze the moment my eyes landed on a woman who had just entered the hall.

My gaze swept over her figure—she wore a long satin dress in a delicate pink hue that reminded me of the sky at dawn. Her long, wavy brown hair spilled over her back, cascading to her waist. Her delicate face was framed by high cheekbones, and her fulllips moved softly as she spoke to the little boy beside her. Her green eyes, framed by long lashes, shimmered with light.

A tightness gripped my chest as she lifted her eyes and looked around hesitantly, stepping inside with an expression of lost uncertainty. A sudden urge to go to her surged through me, and I clenched my fists to hold myself back.

I slumped back in my chair and let out a low Russian curse as Antonio Rasili appeared behind her, slipping his arm around her waist and placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder, startling him.

Married and a mother—great eye, Nikolai, nice.

Sacha, sensing my shift in mood, followed my gaze.

“Looks like Rasili finally decided to show his face,” he murmured. “I can’t stand that bastard,” he added, taking a sip from his glass.

“Totally agree,” I muttered, swallowing down a wave of jealousy.

Rasili leaned in and kissed the woman’s temple, tightening his grip around her waist. I growled under my breath and turned away.

Lucky bastard.

I refocused on my phone, scrolling through emails and replying to the urgent ones. I sighed at the latest technical report from one of our ships—an engine failure, a code signaling trouble with the weapons shipment. Damn it.

“And here come the Ivanovs,” a voice with an Italian accent announced.

I looked up and met a pair of green eyes—deep, forest-like. She widened them in surprise before quickly glancing away. I cleared my throat and tucked my phone away without standing, unlike my brother, who rose to shake Rasili’s hand.

“I welcome you,” Antonio said, looking at each of us in turn. He shook Grigori’s hand, then turned to Elif. “Madame Ivanov,” he greeted, extending a hand to her.

That alone was enough to put all of us on edge. If there was one thing we couldn’t stand, it was outsiders laying a hand on our women or children.

Grigori wasted no time—he slipped his arms around Elif, pulling her against him and effectively shielding her from Antonio’s reach.

“And may I present my magnificent wife, Selina, and our son, Rafael,” Antonio declared with pride.

Selina.

He gently nudged her forward with a hand at the small of her back—as if offering her up to a pack of wolves. Which, quite literally, he was.

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