Page 143 of The Bratva King

I grab the tablet again. I need to be smart about this. I need options.

I search for apartments in Omaha. Wichita. Des Moines. Places far enough from Vegas that no one would think to look. Places with good resources for kids like Luke. Places where we can start over.

Again.

I hear Luke laughing outside. The sound carries through the open window. It’s something I don’t hear often enough. I get up and cross over to the window that overlooks the backyard.

Kylie is teaching him to kick his legs. He’s doing it, splashing water everywhere. He looks so happy. So normal.

And I’m about to take that away.

But what’s the alternative? Stay and hope Nikolai can protect us? Trust him with everything when I don’t even know what he’s keeping from me?

I’ve done this before. I can do it again.

God, I’m so tired of running.

Footsteps approach in the hall. I close the apartment listing and pull up Amazon, pretending I’ve been shopping.

Pasha appears in the doorway, and some of the tension drains out of me. I wasn’t sure what I would say if it was Nik. I’m not ready for that conversation.

Pasha surveys the room, then walks in. He came looking for me. Did Nik send him? Is he here to tell me to pack my shit and go?

He drops into the armchair across from me and stretches out his legs. Then, he picks up one of Luke’s plastic stegosauruses and turns it over in his hands.

He looks at me, and I know this isn’t a casual visit. I smooth my expression and sit a little straighter.

“I don’t know what you’re hiding, but I know you’re hiding something.”

I shrug. “Everyone has a past.”

“I’ve looked into you,” he says unapologetically. “Gabby Collins was born in 1912. Your records only go back a few years. That tells me something, but not everything.”

My heart rate kicks up, but I reveal nothing. I keep my breathing even and resist the urge to lick my lips, even though my mouth has gone dry.

“Is there a point to this conversation?” I ask.

He sets the dinosaur down and looks at me.

“Not one you’re going to like.” He leans forward, his eyes fixed on mine. Calm in a way that makes me more nervous than if he were angry. “He cares about you. I’ve known him since we were boys, and I have never seen him move someone into his home. I’ve never seen him allow a woman into his bed, much less his life, and then fight to keep her there.”

I hold his gaze. The words shouldn’t surprise me. I already know how much he cares. Hearing Pasha say it only makes leaving harder.

“He’s a brother to me,” Pasha continues. “Not by blood. By choice. His brothers know one version of him. The version he lets everyone see. The soldier. The strategist. The middle son who never needed anything.” He pauses. “I know the other version.”

“And?”

He sits back. “His father was cruel. To all of them, but especially to Nik. There are parts of his childhood his brothers don’t fully understand. He’s never spoken about it to anyone except maybe me, and even then, only in pieces.” He picks up the dinosaur again, rubbing his thumb over the scales. “His mother was the only one who understood him, much like you understand Luke. Tatiana showed him how to navigate the world in a way that made sense to him. When she died, a version of Nik died with her. At least that’s what I thought. And then you showed up.”

Something pulls beneath my ribs. I don’t like how much it makes me think of Luke, and about what happens to little boys no one understands. I press my fingers against the edge of the tablet and focus on the sharp corner of the case.

“He keeps people in the dark because he thinks that’s how to keep them safe,” Pasha says. “He doesn’t see it as control. Protection is the only language he knows. Growing up, he learned to keep the people he loved safe by solving the problem before anyone else knew it existed.”

He looks at me. “He does it with Sergei. With Maksim. He solves problems before they reach them because he’d rather carry the weight than let them see what it costs him.”

I swallow. “I understand that’s his way, but Luke is my son.”

“I know.”