Page 107 of Baby for the Bratva King

What if he told us lies about mom so we would stop asking questions?

“Let’s not overcomplicate this,” begins my father, stepping out of the shadows slightly.

I look into his eyes, and it makes me feel rotten inside.

“People already know the truth about Felix, so this is over either way. The question is—how much do you want to live?”

If living entails being stuck under his tyranny, then I want death…

“Do you even know the truth about Felix?”

“I know what I need to.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“I know my way around the underground.”

“Better than you know your way around a graveyard?”

“Hilarious,” deadpans my father, adjusting the spear over his shoulder. “Knowledge is everything. I managed to gather some intel on Felix, thanks to my men. Of course, he was a drunk liability and was ready to spill the news, so he had to go.”

“Go where?”

“Oh, my dear Saskia. You’re in love with the devil and yet still so innocent,” says my father. “We hired the Pozharsky Bratva to take care of the informant, and our suspicions were confirmed. Mr. Pozharsky is more than just a swoon-worthy hotel owner. He runs a crime family behind the scenes—undefeated for twenty-three years. He has monopolized the New York city underground as well as the hotel industry, and his Bratva are yet to face competition. They have immense power.”

“You should see that as a red flag and back off, unless you want to be shot.”

“Shooting is child’s play for these guys,” explains my father. “Felix prefers a knife. He stabbed that poor man himself. He was leaving the casino. Didn’t even have time to tot up his winnings before Felix went in for the kill.” My father angles his face to one side, gauging my reaction. “You look distressed, sweetheart. I suppose you never fully knew what your so-called boyfriend was capable of.”

“And you hired the Pozharskys to kill an innocent man.”

“There is nothing innocent about gambling and drinking your life away. The man had his foot in the right doors and told me what I needed to know about Felix,” says my father. “But if there’s one thing more important than knowledge, sweetheart, it is knowing when to plant a seed.” My father watches me through his dark hood. “Time is everything. I bank up my knowledge and use it when I need to. Knives can kill, but the right scandal can ruin a reputation forever.” My father steps closer. “You want to know what happened to that man’s body after Felix was done with him?”

“I’m good.”

“They incinerated him. Burned the man to a crisp and threw away the crumbs.”

“I think you mean ashes.”

“No, crumbs—less than ashes because the Pozharshy syndicate are all about minimizing evidence.” My father angles his head at me pitifully. “I hate to say it, but you have been taken by a fool for that man.”

Yeah, I’ve been taken for a lot of things, but that doesn’t change how I feel about him. Unlike my father’s act, love cannot be switched on and off at the flick of a button.

“Anyway,” says my father, changing the conversation. “I’m willing to give you a second chance if you stay away from Felix Pozharsky.”

“What happened to burying me alive?”

My father posts his spear into the ground, hand resting over it. “I’m feeling kind. Take the opportunity before I change my mind.”

I frown. That can’t be it. Underneath the false persona is a very scared man. I already ruined his reputation once. I’m sure I can do it again—hence why he wants me gone.

Of course, this is a risky move. My father knows this too. He can pin the blame on Felix, but if he murders me, he becomes far worse than Felix.

At least Felix murders strangers. Murdering your own when you’re a self-proclaimed ‘family man?’

That’s worse than sticking your knife into people for a living.

If the truth ever got out, my father would lose everything: the house, the money, the nation’s love. He would spend the rest of his life behind bars, which is arguably worse than being buried alive.