Chapter 13: Mafia Prince’s Secret Baby: Chapter 12

I can’t make sense of anything anymore. The past few days have been hell. First, it was packing for New York. Then barely half an hour after arriving, Igor decided that wasn’t good enough. Now he’s ordering us to move into his parents’ home like we’re pieces on his personal chessboard.

I push up from the couch, my frustration bubbling over. He’s standing there like he always does—unflinching, cold, in complete control. But not of me.

We lock eyes, his icy blue gaze clashing with my own. My arms cross over my chest, and I let the words fly.

“The only other house I’ll move to is my brother’s.”

His jaw tightens, a flicker of warning flashing in his gaze, but I stand my ground. I’m done dancing to his tune. I’m not blind. I saw the blood-soaked boxes. Someone’s sending him a message. That’s his world, not mine. To Igor, this is probably business as usual—a hazard of his job. But to me? This is life or death.

I have Sofiya to think about. And if I can use this chaos to get us away from him, I’ll take it.

“I’m not asking,” he says, his voice low and full of menace. “I’m telling you. It’s not safe here.”

“Exactly,” I shoot back without hesitation. “It’s not safe to stay with you.”

The muscle in his jaw jumps, and when he speaks again, his voice drips with ice. “Let me rephrase. If you don’t grab your shit, I’ll personally throw you into the car with your suitcase.”

I step closer, my chin tilting up as my anger boils over. “I’d like to see you try.”

In two strides, he’s in my space, crowding me. His hands grip my waist, pulling me against his body like he’s daring me to push him away.

“Don’t tempt me, volchitsa,” he murmurs, his voice low and threatening. His lips hover so close to mine I can feel the heat of his breath. “There are still things I haven’t done to you.”

“You’re disgusting,” I snap, shoving against his chest.

He laughs, low and mocking. “Sure. That’s why you’re burning up right now.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I hiss.

“Liar,” he taunts, his grin sharp. “I bet you’re soaked for me.”

Heat floods my cheeks—not from embarrassment, but pure rage. My fists clench, and I throw every ounce of venom into my words. “Step away from me, or I’ll scream.”

“Go ahead,” he says, his gaze boring into mine. “Do it.”

The challenge hangs between us, and I realize with a sinking feeling that he’s not bluffing. I’ve used this threat more times than I can count to get out of bad situations. But Igor? He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink.

“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, the sting of defeat settling deep in my chest.

He smirks, a maddeningly smug expression that makes me want to slap it clean off his face.

“You can’t blame a guy for trying to make the best out of a desperate situation. Now be a doll and get the kids. We’re leaving.”

Every word from him grates against my nerves, but I know it’s pointless to fight him. I could stand here and argue all day, but it won’t change a thing. And honestly? I don’t even know what I want anymore. My mind feels like it’s unraveling, every sharp edge of my anger dulling into helplessness.

Before I can summon a retort, a soft creak draws both our attention. I turn toward the doorway and freeze.

Sofiya and Damien are standing there, their wide eyes darting between us. My heart sinks. How long have they been watching? Did they see the worst of it?

I step back from Igor, forcing myself to take a deep breath. My lungs burn, but I smooth my expression, softening my gaze as I look at Sofiya. She doesn’t need more reasons to dislike him—or to fear him.

I force a smile to my lips and sign, “Don’t worry. We came to get Damien, and now we’re going to another house.”

Sofiya frowns, tilting her head. “All of us?”

I hesitate, but the look in her eyes—so full of hope—feels like a knife twisting in my gut. “All of us,” I sign back, even though the words feel like a betrayal. There’s no choice. If I resist Igor, he’ll take Sofiya from me. And that’s a risk I can’t take.

Sofiya shifts her gaze to Igor, studying him like she always does. To my surprise, his posture softens. He kneels in front of the kids, and for a brief moment, he almost looks human. His icy eyes lock on hers.

“What did she say?” he asks, his voice quiet but firm.

“It’s none of your business,” I spit, the defiance in my tone making his shoulders tense.

But he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he turns to Damien. “We’re going to Babushka and Deduska’s house for a few days,” he says, his tone gentle. “Grab whatever toys you want, okay?”

Damien nods and scampers off to his room. Igor watches him go, and for just a second, I see something in his expression I wasn’t expecting—a small, fond smile that makes my knees threaten to give out.

Sofiya glances at me, her little hands moving quickly in sign language. “Should I help Damien?”

“Yes,” I sign back, my hands steady even as my chest tightens. “Go help him pack.”

Sofiya doesn’t hesitate. She darts after Damien, leaving me alone with Igor once again.

I glare at him, my anger rising like a tide. “This isn’t a joke, Igor.”

His face hardens. “I know it’s not. Which is why you’re going with me.”

“To Nik’s house,” I counter, my voice firm. “You know we’d be safer there.”

His expression darkens. “No.”

“But—”

“Don’t push me, Katya,” he growls, his jaw clenching. “I’m not in the mood for another argument. We’re all going to my parents’ house, and that’s final.”

“Fuck you,” I snap, my voice low and sharp.

He moves so fast I don’t have time to react. In three strides, he’s caging me against the wall, one arm braced beside my head while his body looms over mine. His presence is suffocating, his voice a dangerous whisper.

“I don’t think you heard me,” he says, his tone chillingly calm. “I won’t tolerate defiance. Once in a while is fine—it keeps things interesting. But keep pushing me, volchitsa, and I’ll have to force you.”

I want to tell him to go to hell. I want to tell him he’s the last person I’d trust with Sofiya’s safety. But before I can open my mouth, Sofiya and Damien reappear, holding their bags.

Igor steps back like nothing happened.

“Let’s go, kids,” he says, ushering us toward the door. He pauses, glancing at me as his hand hovers over the handle. “It should be cleaned up by now.”

I stiffen. “What was it?” I ask, my voice quiet, though I don’t really want to know.

“We’ll talk later,” he replies, nodding toward the kids.

And just like that, I’m reminded that in his world, secrets are currency.

And I’m flat broke.

The elevator doors slide open, and a familiar face with the same piercing blue eyes steps out. Aleks, Igor’s brother. His stride is easy, casual, but there’s an edge to him, a sharpness that makes it clear he’s no one’s sidekick. He nods in acknowledgment before turning his attention to Igor.

“I sent the men ahead,” Aleks says, his tone clipped but calm. “I’m riding in the car with you.”

“That’s not necessary,” Igor replies, already sounding annoyed. “We’re fine.”

“Two gun—hands are better than one,” Aleks reminds him, smirking at his own slip. “We’re going to the same place anyway.”

Igor exhales sharply, the sound edged with frustration. “Fine,” he mutters, stepping aside. “You might as well make yourself useful and help with the bags.”

I tense as Aleks kneels in front of Sofiya. His resemblance to Igor is uncanny—same sharp cheekbones, same icy eyes—but where Igor is steel, Aleks has an easy charm that feels almost disarming.

He tilts his head to the side, his lips curling into a slow, deliberate smile. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he lifts his hands and signs, “Hi, I’m Aleks.”

Sofiya’s eyes widen, and for a brief moment, her tiny hands tremble. But then the smallest smile blooms on her face, and she signs back, “I’m Sofiya.”

Her shyness melts away, and seeing her beam so brightly makes something inside me ache.

She shouldn’t be here, a voice in my head whispers. None of us should.

“Nice to meet you,” Aleks signs, his movements fluid and confident. Then he stands, his gaze shifting to meet mine.

“Katya,” he says, the corners of his mouth twitching upward like he knows something I don’t.

“Aleks,” I reply coolly, crossing my arms, unwilling to let his charm chip away at my walls.

Igor steps in, his tone sharp with irritation. “Since when do you know sign language?”

Aleks throws him a smirk, as if he’s enjoying the fact that his brother didn’t see this coming. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, brother,” he says casually, turning back to Damien before Igor can respond.

Aleks offers Damien his fist, grinning. “What’s up, little man?”

Damien’s face lights up as he bumps fists with Aleks. “Will you teach me how to talk to Sofiya?”

The words catch me off guard. I blink, my chest tightening with a flicker of warmth. I wasn’t prepared for that, wasn’t prepared for Damien’s earnestness or his desire to connect with Sofiya.

Maybe I’ve underestimated him. Maybe the world Igor comes from hasn’t tainted him yet.

Aleks grins and winks at Damien. “Sure thing, little man. We’ll start with the basics.”

The elevator dings, and we file inside, bags and all. Igor follows, his posture tense, his expression dark. He doesn’t say a word, but the way his jaw clenches and his icy gaze darts toward me every few seconds is enough to make his anger obvious.

I ignore him. Let him stew in his misery. If he needs a fight to unload all that anger, he can look somewhere else. I’ve given him enough.

The ride to Igor’s parents’ house is suffocating. No one speaks. Sofiya leans against me, clutching my hand while Damien sits beside her, fidgeting with one of his toys. Aleks sits in the front, relaxed, but his eyes flick to the rearview mirror every so often, like he’s reading the tension in the car and filing it away for later.

Igor is a storm cloud sitting beside him, radiating his displeasure like a physical thing. His hands grip the wheel a little too tight, his jaw clenched so hard I half expect to hear it crack.

And me? I stare out the window, watching the city blur past as my mind races. The silence in the car is unbearable, but it’s nothing compared to the dread sitting heavy in my chest.

Igor’s parents. Their house.

I didn’t want to live with one Sokolov, let alone a house full of them. They will no doubt look at me like I’m some interloper, the enemy who dared to keep Sofiya away from them.

My grip on Sofiya’s hand tightens as I think about it. I don’t need their judgment. I don’t need their stares or their thinly veiled accusations. But most of all, I don’t need their hatred. Because it’s coming—I can already feel it.

This is going to be hell.

Fucking perfect.

By the time we pull up to the massive gates of the Sokolov estate, my dread has turned into a lead weight in my stomach. The gates open slowly, revealing a sprawling mansion that feels more like a fortress. Tall, imposing, and cold. Just like the family who lives here.

As the car comes to a stop, Sofiya sits up straighter, her wide eyes taking in the house. Damien is already unbuckling his seatbelt, eager to explore.

“Stay close to me,” I sign to Sofiya, brushing a hand over her hair.

Igor kills the engine and steps out first, barking orders at one of the men who comes to greet us. Aleks climbs out more casually, grabbing some of the bags from the trunk before turning to offer Sofiya a reassuring smile.

“It’s big, huh?” he signs, gesturing to the house.

Sofiya nods, her gaze bouncing between him and the mansion.

“Don’t worry,” Aleks adds. “You’ll like it here.”

I don’t know if he’s saying it for her benefit or mine, but I don’t respond. Instead, I step out of the car, holding Sofiya’s hand tightly. Damien rushes ahead, too excited to wait, and Aleks follows with an armful of bags.

Igor steps beside me, his presence unwelcome but impossible to ignore.

“Try to keep your temper in check,” he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

I whip my head toward him, glaring. “Try to keep your ego in check,” I hiss back.

For a moment, he looks like he’s going to snap, but then he exhales sharply and walks away, his long strides eating up the distance to the house.