Page 8 of Beautiful Lies
We seem to have drifted so far apart since then, and I know it’s down to me. Occasions like that one cause me to distance myself from her because it feels like I’m getting too close. And if I let her get too close, she’ll distract me.
That’s not something I can afford. Especially right now.
Fuck! Why couldn’t she have just gotten pregnant at a different time?
"You're right," I admit grudgingly, knowing it’s true.
Darian claps me on the shoulder. "So, what are you going to do about it?"
I shake my head, frustration mounting. "I don't know. Part of me wants this child more than anything. An heir, a legacy. But the rational part of my brain is screaming how it's too dangerous."
"Since when has the great Nikolai Radaeva let danger stop him?" Darian challenges, a hint of a smirk on his face.
I shoot him a withering look. "This is different. It's not just my life on the line."
Darian's expression turns serious. "No, it's not. But think about it this way - having a child to protect might make you an even more formidable leader. It could give you an edge, a reason to fight harder, to be smarter, to consolidate our power even further."
His words give me pause. I hadn't considered that angle. The thought of a child - my child - to protect does ignite something primal within me. A fierce determination I haven't felt in years.
"Maybe so," I concede reluctantly. "But it doesn't change the fact that I've already told Emylyah it can't happen. I can't just go back on that now."
Darian rolls his eyes. "Of course you can. It's called admitting you were wrong and apologizing. I know it's a foreign concept to you, but trust me, it works wonders."
I scowl at him, but there's truth in his words. Pride has always been my downfall, and Emylyah has borne the brunt of it more times than I care to admit.
"Fine," I growl. "I'll talk to her when she gets back from Roisin's. But first, we need to deal with this mess." I gesture to the smoldering remains around us.
Darian nods, his expression turning sober. "Agreed. But at least this will send a message that we're not to be trifled with." He gestures to the derelict building and the burning bodies within it. None of the men we tortured gave us any new information, though Red Scorpion was once again mentioned. But still nothing concrete about the people behind the mystery or who’s in charge. It’s beyond frustrating, and I wonder if some of the men we’ve lost recently have met the same end at the hands of an equally paranoid syndicate trying to get information.
It’s more than paranoia, though. It’s an instinct, a gnawing certainty that there’s something rotten in the air, something we’re missing. It’s in the way the younger soldiers look at me when I pass, like they’re wondering if I still have my finger on the pulse. Or how the usual street informants scurry away or flat-out vanish. It’s in the uptick of anonymous threats, coded messages, and the fact that our last three arms shipments were hit—clean, surgical, almost like an inside job. There’s a pattern here, one I can sense but not quite see. Every day I search for a leak, a traitor, and come up empty, and it makes my skin itch with the conviction that the next betrayal is waiting just around the corner. What will it be next? Something more personal than an arms shipment?
But I refuse to let uncertainty paralyze me. I snuff out my cigarette and grind it under my heel, turning to Darian who’s watching me with that old mixture of loyalty and calculated caution. I know every man who’s died in the last month. I know the way their bodies looked, the crude butchery, the overkill that screamed message more than necessity. Our enemies are getting bold, and I’d be a fool not to retaliate in kind—not just with blood, but with a pointed reminder to the city that there’s a reason the Radaeva name inspires dread. And without a concrete target, that’s the only message I can send.
I nod grimly, my mind shifting back to business. "Double the patrols on our borders. I want eyes on every street corner, every alley. If so much as a stray cat crosses into our territory without our permission, I want to hear about it."
Darian raises an eyebrow. "That's a lot of manpower, Niko. Are you sure we can spare it?"
"We can't afford not to," I growl. "Something big is coming. I can feel it in my bones. We need to be prepared."
My brother studies me for a moment, then nods. "Alright. I'll make it happen. What about our allies? Should we see what they know? Maybe call in some favors?"
I consider this, weighing the risks against the potential benefits. "Not yet. Let's see if we can make any headway into who’s behind this first." Emylyah’s friendship with Roisin has stood us in good stead with the Irish. It’s one of the reasons I married her. And Roisin’s marrying into La Cosa Nostra has pulled in another thread. But allies are only allies for as long as both parties find it useful, and betrayal isn’t something the players in our circles lose sleep over. I still think there might be something rotten at the core of the old school Italian Mafia. Something I suspect didn’t die along with the Viper, and as much as I respect Mika, he’s not yet in charge. And while I trust Callum and Ciaran, blood is thicker than water at the end of the day, and they’ve officially allied with La Cosa Nostra through marriage, so that’s always where their loyalties will lie.
I just hope Darian keeps sight of that, since I know damn well he’s fucking Callum Maquire, and has been for a while now. The gender of his bed mates doesn’t bother me, although he’ll need to find a beard at some point - they both will. Hell, one of them should probably consider dating Million’s daughter, Catriona, since he’s pushing so hard for it. Homosexual relationships within the ranks of either organization will never be accepted. It’s one of the reasons my brother has such a massive chip on his shoulder. Callum as well. That fucker’s as bad tempered as Darian is vicious. A match made in hell.
I push those thoughts aside, refocusing on the task at hand. "For now, we tighten security and keep our eyes and ears open. If anyone so much as whispers about moving against us, I want to know about it."
Darian nods, his expression hardening. "Consider it done. And Niko? Don't wait too long to talk to Emylyah. Women have a way of making decisions for themselves if you leave them hanging."
His words hit a nerve, reminding me of the stubborn streak Emylyah tries so hard to hide. I grunt in acknowledgment, already dreading the conversation ahead. But Darian's right - I can't put this off.
As we finish cleaning up the scene, my mind drifts to Emylyah. The image of her, soft and warm in our bed, her stomach swollen with my child, flashes unbidden through my mind. It stirs something in me - a longing I've been trying to ignore.
Maybe Darian's has a point. Maybe this child could be a source of strength rather than weakness. But the risks... Christ, the risks are almost too much to contemplate.
I’m not a paranoid bastard. I know first-hand just how depraved this world can be. Just like I know Darian hasn’t forgotten our sister, Agnieszka. It was her death that made him the vicious asshole he is today, after all.
Chapter Five
