Mafia Prince’s Secret Baby (New York Bratva)

35. Igor

35

IGOR

T he walk to Nikolai’s office is quiet, tension thickening the air between Ivan and me. As much as I don’t want to admit it, having him by my side feels more like an obligation than an alliance. His presence is a constant reminder of how thin the line between control and chaos has become.

As we approach the door, Ivan surprises me.

“You’re not taking my gun this time?” I ask, half-joking, running a hand through my hair.

“Not today,” he replies with a slight smirk.

That catches me off guard. “Interesting.”

“Don’t push it,” he warns, his tone a shade too serious for my liking. “Play nice.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Playing nice isn’t exactly my forte, but with the shitstorm we’re standing in, I know he’s right. I straighten my posture as Ivan knocks on the heavy oak door. Nikolai’s voice rumbles from the other side, giving us permission to enter.

As we step inside, I immediately clock the tension in the room. Nikolai stands behind his desk, his broad shoulders square and his expression as unreadable as ever. But it’s not just him. There’s another figure leaning against the far wall, and the moment I realize who it is, my pulse spikes.

“Vasiliy,” I say, my voice low and sharp. “I’d be lying if I said it’s good to see you.”

My fists clench at my sides as I glare at Katya’s older brother. He steps forward, his eyes narrowing at me like he’s already made his judgment.

“You had one job,” he sneers, his words dripping with disdain. “To keep Katya and Sofiya safe.”

I don’t flinch, even though the accusation cuts deep. “Yes,” I respond evenly, keeping my voice calm, “and I’m handling it.”

“No,” he snaps, his glare turning colder. “I am.”

I grit my teeth, my pulse pounding in my ears. Vasiliy’s presence feels like a challenge, like he’s here to remind me that I’ve failed. He looks like he’s ready to draw blood, his fingers twitching at his sides as though itching to grab a weapon.

“We have a name,” I say, keeping my tone measured. “Maksim Olenko. Galina’s brother. I assume your shadow filled you in?” I glance at Ivan, who nods once, his face impassive.

Nikolai crosses his arms over his chest, stepping forward. “That’s why I asked Vasiliy to come to New York.”

I stiffen. “We can handle Maksim on our own. Between the Volkovs and the Sokolovs, we don’t need foreign interference.” My words are clipped, but I’m careful not to outright insult him.

“Vasiliy has access to resources we don’t,” Nikolai insists firmly. “Classified contacts that will speed this up. Need I remind you, Igor, that time is not on our side?”

He’s right, and I know it, but the admission doesn’t come easily. The Colombians aren’t going to wait forever. Once the deadline hits, they’ll come down on us with the kind of force we can’t afford.

“We’re making progress,” I counter. “We’ve got the name. Now it’s just a matter of tracking Maksim down.”

“That’s where I come in,” Vasiliy glowers at me, his posture dripping with arrogance. He lifts his chin, his pale blue eyes cutting through me like ice.

My shoulders tense automatically. It’s not just his words—it’s the way he says them, like he’s already decided I’m incapable of handling this myself. My fists tighten, the urge to put him in his place almost overpowering.

“Control yourself,” Nikolai interjects, his tone like a whip crack. “This isn’t about egos. It’s about Katya and Sofiya. We’re family, Igor, whether you like it or not. So let’s act like it and focus on making sure no one fucks with us.”

I hold Nikolai’s icy stare for a beat longer, my jaw locked, before I finally nod. He’s right—this isn’t the time for petty arguments, not when Katya and Sofiya’s safety is on the line.

Reluctantly, I sit down, my muscles taut with restrained tension. Nikolai and Vasiliy take their seats across from me. Ivan moves to the liquor cabinet, pouring out shots of vodka with the kind of practiced ease that says this isn’t his first time playing peacemaker.

Vasiliy takes a sip from his glass before speaking, his tone almost conversational. “Nikolai mentioned his history with the Olenkos.”

“That was six years ago,” I say, waving the comment off. “Water under the bridge.”

Vasiliy doesn’t look convinced. “I doubt it’s water under the bridge for them. They were biding their time. Waiting. And now they’re striking.”

Nikolai’s face darkens at the reminder. I know the story well—how he killed Fedot Olenko and his cousin Grigoriy after they set me up. If anyone should hold a grudge, it’s me. But Vasiliy has a point. The Olenkos don’t forget. Nor do they forgive.

“Boris wanted me to marry Galina,” I offer. “Why would he push for it if he blamed me or Nikolai for what happened?”

“Because Boris doesn’t have the guts to take you on directly,” Nikolai interjects sharply. “But Maksim? He’s impulsive enough to take matters into his own hands.”

I stiffen as Nikolai continues, “Think about it. The missing shipment—Katya was on the plane with you when it happened. The bloody boxes? They appeared when she arrived. The fireworks? She was in the room. This isn’t just about you, Igor. This is about her.”

The realization hits me like a freight train. My stomach twists painfully as the pieces click into place. All this time, I thought I was the target. But what if it’s not me? What if it’s her?

“If that’s true,” I mutter, rising from my seat, “then she’s still in danger.”

Vasiliy stands too, his expression darkening. “Where is she now?”

“With Aleks and Dominik,” I tell him. “At the hospital with Sofiya.”

Vasiliy’s jaw tightens. “If Igor says she’s safe, then let’s focus on the plan. Maksim is the key. He’s connected to all of this.”

Nikolai nods, his tone decisive. “We need to move fast. Vasiliy, work your contacts. Use whatever resources you have to find the bastard.”

“And when we find him,” I add, my voice low and full of promise, “he’ll wish he’d never been born.”

The walk to the Volkovs’ armory feels longer than it should. The air between us is heavy with history that neither of us wants to address right now. Nikolai moves with his usual confidence. He’s always been a master of control, but I know him well enough to see the cracks. His shoulders are just a little tighter, his jaw a little more clenched. Beneath the calm, he’s barely holding his rage in check.

I respect that. It mirrors my own state of mind.

When we reach the armory, Nikolai swipes his card and presses his thumb to the biometric scanner. The door unlocks with a satisfying click, revealing a room that looks like a warlord’s dream. Floor-to-ceiling shelves are lined with every weapon imaginable, from sleek sniper rifles to compact pistols. There’s a workbench covered in tools for assembling or customizing weapons, and a wall-mounted screen displays surveillance feeds and tactical maps.

“Suit up,” Nikolai says, gesturing to the room. “Take whatever you need.”

I step inside, the smell of gun oil and steel hitting me immediately. My hands itch. As I move toward the weapons rack, Nikolai leans against the doorframe, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“You know,” he says after a moment, his tone lighter than I expect, “don’t get used to us being friendly. I don’t hand out favors often.”

I glance at him, smirking as I pick up a Glock and check its weight. “Don’t worry. I’m not planning to make a habit of raiding your armory.”

He chuckles, the sound low and short. “Good. Because if you did, I’d have to charge you a fortune. And I know your business isn’t as profitable as mine.”

I snort, shaking my head.

“But seriously, Igor.” He grins. “Maksim isn’t just another street thug. He’s calculating and dangerous. Don’t underestimate him.”

“I don’t plan to,” I reply, grabbing a tactical vest and strapping it on. “But let me make one thing clear, Nikolai. When we find him, I’m the one who finishes him.”

His grin fades. “Fine. But if you hesitate for even a second, I’ll do it myself. I won’t risk him slipping through our fingers.”

“Deal.” I fasten the vest and grab extra magazines.

For a moment, the room falls silent except for the sounds of me gearing up. Nikolai watches, arms crossed. I can feel the weight of his scrutiny, but I don’t let it bother me. We might not see eye to eye on most things, but right now, we’re aligned. For the first time in years, I feel like we’re truly on the same side.

As I finish strapping on the last of my gear, Nikolai pushes off the doorframe and walks over to the surveillance screen. He taps a few buttons, bringing up a map of the city.

“Vasiliy will have Maksim’s location soon,” he says, all business again. “When he does, we’ll strike fast and hard. No room for mistakes.”

“Understood,” I reply, sliding my pistol into its holster. “I’ll have Konstantin prep my men. The second we have a location, we move.”

Nikolai nods, his eyes never leaving the map. “We’ll make this right,” he says quietly, almost to himself.

“We will,” I agree calmly. But my blood is boiling with anticipation. Maksim has no idea what’s coming for him.

As I finish checking my gear, Vasiliy walks in, his expression grim but determined. “We’ve got him,” he announces, holding up his phone. “I’ve pinpointed Maksim’s location. He’s holed up in a warehouse on the edge of Queens.”

“Perfect,” Nikolai says, his voice like steel. He turns to me, his eyes blazing. “Let’s go hunting.”