Ruthless Daddies (Reverse Harem Daddies)

35. Nikolai

35

NIKOLAI

W e’re headed back home in one of the black SUVs. The sky outside is painted in shades of orange and pink, but the mood in the car is anything but serene.

Ivan is at the wheel, eyes on the road, knuckles white against the leather. Dmitri sits in the passenger seat, tapping his fingers on his thigh—a restless habit I’ve come to recognize as his mind racing.

We’re doing this. We’re sending Alice away.

The idea feels like a rock in my gut, heavier with each mile we drive.

I clear my throat, and my voice comes out sounding rougher than I intend. “Are we sure about this? Are we being too quick, deciding to send her off?”

Ivan’s grip tightens on the wheel, and I see his jaw flex in the mirror. He doesn’t look at me when he responds. “It’s final, Nikolai.”

Dmitri glances over, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not even going to consider another option? We haven’t exactly told her everything.”

Ivan’s voice is soft as he says, “As much as I love her, it’s the only choice we have.”

I catch Dmitri’s expression in the rearview mirror—a faint flicker of surprise, or maybe realization.

He breaks the silence. “So you love her,” he says, not a question but a statement, his tone oddly calm.

Ivan’s shoulders straighten. “Does it matter? She’s a risk.” His grip on the wheel is iron. “And let’s not pretend you don’t feel the same.”

Dmitri’s mouth quirks, but not into a smile.

We pull up to the estate in a swirl of dust, the car lurching to a stop before Ivan even turns off the engine.

I’m barely two steps from the car when Sergei comes stumbling toward us, one hand clutching his head, blood seeping through his fingers. He looks panicked, like a cornered animal.

“Sergei,” Ivan calls, striding forward. “What the hell happened?”

Sergei wobbles, and I grab his arm to steady him. His eyes are wide, darting between me, Ivan, and Dmitri. “She’s gone,” he gasps, his voice shaky. “Alice is gone.”

My heart thunders against my ribs. Gone? That single word knocks the air right out of me.

“What do you mean, she’s gone?” I demand, trying to ignore the cold panic clawing at my stomach. “She can’t just—did she leave on her own?”

Sergei’s blood-spattered hand trembles. “I don’t know,” he manages, his voice hoarse. “I was in the hallway, and someone hit me from behind. Next thing I remember, I woke up, and she…she wasn’t in her room. The door was open, stuff scattered.”

A flicker of suspicion sparks in my mind. Sergei was the one who found her missing, and now he’s conveniently injured. I exchange a quick glance with Ivan. His mouth twists, a silent acknowledgment that we’re both thinking the same thing. Alice once accused Sergei of hiding something, and now this?

Dmitri helps Sergei stand upright, pressing a hand to the back of his head. “You’re bleeding pretty bad. We need to get you to a doctor.”

Sergei winces, shaking his head slightly, then grimaces in pain. “I’m fine,” he insists, though his voice wavers. “I just need to?—”

“Shut up,” Dmitri cuts him off, not unkindly. “Let the doc have a look. Then you can give us the rest of the story.”

I glance over Sergei’s shoulder, trying to see if anything else is amiss. The front foyer is empty, and the house beyond it looks still. No sign of a struggle except for the blood on Sergei’s hand. No sign of Alice. My pulse kicks up another notch.

Ivan shifts, his posture rigid as he studies Sergei. “Why were you near Alice’s room?” he asks, voice cold.

Sergei’s gaze flicks to him, then back to me and Dmitri. “I was just…passing by. Checking on the staff, making my rounds.”

Could it be that someone really attacked Sergei and took Alice? Or is he covering his own tracks? A part of me curses myself for the suspicion, but I can’t shake it. Alice warned us about him, tried to tell us he might be involved somehow.

Ivan, jaw tight, gestures for us to move inside. “Let’s get him patched up,” he mutters, already storming toward the entrance.

If Alice has been taken—or if she ran—where would she go? She told us she wanted to leave, but would she go so far as to disappear? My gut twists at the idea that she might be in danger because of our decision to send her away.

As we head into the foyer, Marta appears, her face pale. She takes one look at Sergei’s bleeding head and covers her mouth. “What happened?”

Ivan waves her off. “We don’t know yet. Sergei was knocked out. Alice is missing.”

Her eyes widen, and she glances at me, then Dmitri. “Missing?”

“Stay with him,” Dmitri orders, easing Sergei onto a nearby chair. “Try to stop the bleeding. We’ll call the doctor.”

I’m already stepping back, my chest tight with worry. My eyes flick to Ivan, whose face is set in grim determination. “Nikolai,” he says quietly, “check her room. See if there’s any sign of where she might’ve gone.”

I’m about to move when Dmitri steps forward, slipping his phone from his pocket with a casualness that makes my skin crawl. “No need,” he says, not even bothering to look at Sergei. “I already have her location.”

Ivan and I both pause, trading a look that’s half confusion, half disbelief. “What do you mean you have her location?” I demand, my heart pounding.

Dmitri offers a faint, unapologetic shrug. “I put a tracker on her the day I met her at the club.”

Ivan’s eyes narrow, impatience clear in his tight jaw. He doesn’t even bother to question it further, just snaps, “Then track her. Now. ”

Dmitri taps at his phone, the flicker of the screen reflecting in his eyes. A silent moment drags out, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. “That’s odd,” he mutters finally, frowning as he checks whatever app he’s using. “She’s at one of our abandoned warehouses.”

I exchange a quick look with Ivan, dread coiling in my gut.

There’s no way she would be there by choice.

I step closer, trying to get a look at the map on his phone. “Which one?”

Dmitri rattles off the location, and my stomach tightens. It’s on the outskirts of the city, a place we haven’t used in years. The fact that Alice is there—alone, from the looks of it—sends alarm bells ringing in my head.

“We need to go,” I say firmly, already turning to head for the car.

Ivan nods, his expression grim. “Now.”

As we move, Marta steps into the hallway, her face unusually pale. “Marta,” Ivan says. “Keep the children inside their rooms. I’ll post a few men outside. They shouldn’t come out before we return.”

“What’s going on?” she asks, her eyes darting between us and Sergei, who’s still slumped in the chair.

“Stay out of this,” Ivan snaps, but Marta steps forward, her hands clasped tightly together. She looks more worried than I’ve ever seen her.

“You need to hurry,” she blurts out, her voice trembling. “Alice is—” She stops herself, but the words are already out. “Alice is pregnant.”

The air shifts like a bomb just went off. Dmitri freezes mid-step, his gaze snapping to Marta, then to me. Ivan turns slowly, his face darkening with an unreadable expression.

“What did you just say?” I demand, my heart pounding.

Marta looks like she regrets speaking, but there’s no going back now. “She’s pregnant,” she repeats, more quietly this time. “She found out recently. I—I didn’t want to tell you like this, but if she’s in danger, you need to know.”

Pregnant.

Fucking hell.

The drive to the warehouse is tense, each of us lost in our own thoughts after Marta’s bombshell. Alice is pregnant . The shock still reverberates through me, but there’s no time to process it. Ivan’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel, his eyes cold and fixed on the road. Dmitri is silent, his jaw tight, already anticipating a fight.

By the time we arrive, dusk has fallen, blanketing the area in an eerie half-light. The warehouse looms ahead, its corrugated metal walls rusted and peeling, casting long shadows across the cracked concrete lot.

The place is deathly quiet. Too quiet.

We step out of the car, the crunch of gravel underfoot the only sound. Ivan draws his gun, and we follow suit.

The warehouse is massive, its metal doors hanging slightly ajar. Rust stains streak the walls, and shattered windows cast jagged reflections in the fading light. The smell of damp and decay fills the air, making my stomach churn.

We step inside, the floor creaking beneath our boots. The interior is a maze of rusted machinery, stacks of broken pallets, and abandoned crates. There’s no one here.

“Stick together,” Ivan murmurs.

“We’ll cover more ground if we split up,” Dmitri says. “Call if you find her.”

Ivan hesitates, then nods reluctantly. Dmitri veers left, Ivan takes the central path, and I head right, the air growing colder as I move deeper into the building.

I grip my gun tighter, my eyes scanning every shadow. My flashlight sweeps over graffiti-covered walls, pools of stagnant water, and shards of glass that glitter like ice. The silence is unnerving, broken only by the distant creak of metal and the occasional drip of water.

Then I hear it—a faint sound, muffled and desperate.

It leads me to a heavy door, slightly ajar, the hinges rusted and barely holding on. I push it open cautiously, my flashlight cutting through the darkness.

“Alice,” I breathe, my voice barely audible.

She’s there, tied to a chair in the center of the room. Her head snaps up, her wide eyes locking onto mine. Her face is pale, streaked with sweat and grime, and her mouth is gagged. The sight of her bound and helpless sends a surge of rage through me.

I rush toward her, lowering my gun. “I’m here,” I say, my voice soft but firm. “I’m going to get you out of this.”

But as I move closer, Alice starts to struggle, her muffled cries growing frantic. Her eyes widen, darting behind me. Confused, I pause, turning slightly—just in time to feel a dull, crushing blow to the back of my head.

Pain explodes in my skull, and I collapse to the floor, the room spinning as I groan against the sharp ache. My flashlight clatters to the ground, the beam flickering wildly across the walls. I struggle to push myself up, my limbs sluggish and uncooperative.

A shadow looms above me, blocking the light. I blink through the haze of pain, and my stomach twists as I recognize the figure.

“Uncle?” I rasp, my voice hoarse with disbelief.

Alexei steps into the light, his face calm but twisted with something cold and menacing. His smile is slow, deliberate, and sends a chill down my spine. “It’s too bad you showed up here,” he says, his voice dripping with mock regret. “Come to rescue your little girlfriend? Well, you shouldn’t have bothered.”

Alice struggles harder, her muffled cries sharp and desperate, but Alexei doesn’t even glance at her. His eyes remain locked on mine, as if relishing the look of shock and betrayal on my face.

“You,” I manage, trying to focus despite the throbbing in my head. “You’re behind this.”

Alexei chuckles softly, crouching beside me. “I told you, Nikolai. Always know who your enemies are. But you never saw this coming, did you?”

The room spins as his words sink in, and I struggle to stay conscious. The faint sound of Alice’s muffled cries reaches me again, snapping me back to the present.

The pain in my head is blinding, each throb like a hammer pounding against my skull. I try to move, but Alexei grabs me by the collar and drags me across the dusty floor like I’m nothing more than dead weight. The gun I had clatters away, disappearing into the shadows, and I grit my teeth, trying to push through the haze clouding my mind.

“Why?” I manage, my voice hoarse. “Why would you do this?”

Alexei crouches down, his calm, calculating smile chilling. “Because no one gave me a choice, Nikolai. Not then. Not now.”

His words are cold, measured, like he’s thought about this moment for years. “You think you know the Morozov family,” he continues, shaking his head. “But you only know the surface. The veneer your father and his perfect little legacy worked so hard to build.”

“What are you talking about?” I hiss, trying to shift upright, but he presses a hand to my chest, shoving me back down.

“I’m talking about being the second son,” Alexei sneers. “The spare. Always the spare. Your grandfather—he only had eyes for his firstborn. Your father. I was smarter, more capable, more ruthless. But did it matter? No. My life was decided before I even had a say in it.”

I grit my teeth, the pieces of his twisted logic starting to come together. “So what? You decided to betray the family because you didn’t get a promotion?”

Alexei’s smile sharpens. “It’s not about betrayal. It’s about taking what’s mine. What should have been mine all along.”

“And Elena?” I press, my voice shaking with anger. “What did she have to do with this?”

At the mention of her name, Alexei’s eyes darken. He shifts his weight, his posture growing more menacing. “Elena,” he says, his voice dripping with venom. “She was supposed to be my ticket. My way to finally have what I deserved.”

I stare at him, disbelief twisting in my gut. “What are you saying?”

He straightens, his voice taking on a cold, calculated tone. “I convinced her I loved her. I told her Ivan wasn’t worthy of her, that I could give her more. And for a while, she believed me. We had an affair. I thought she’d finally help me secure what was rightfully mine.”

My stomach churns, disgust and fury swirling together. “You seduced your nephew’s wife?”

Alexei smirks. “It wasn’t hard. Elena was lonely, disillusioned. Ivan was too busy running the family, too distracted to notice what was right under his nose. She wanted someone to pay attention to her. I gave her that.”

“Why?” I ask, my voice rising despite the ache in my head. “Why would you destroy your own family like that?”

He leans closer, his smile fading into something more sinister. “Because I wanted my children to inherit everything. The power, the name, the legacy. And for a while, I thought they would. Elena told me the twins were mine. That Ivan would never know.”

“But the bitch lied,” he spits. “They’re not mine. They never were. She strung me along, fed me promises, only to betray me.”

I think of Mila and Luka, their innocent faces flashing in my mind. My hands clench into fists as Alexei continues.

“When I found out the truth, I knew she had to pay,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “She thought she could play me, make a fool of me. But no one crosses me, Nikolai. No one.”

“You killed her,” I say, the words leaving my mouth like a curse.

“She didn’t give me a choice,” Alexei replies, his expression calm, as if he’s talking about a business decision instead of murder. “She had to die. It was the only way to protect what I’d built.”

My blood boils, fury drowning out the pain in my head. “You’re a monster.”

Alexei shrugs, rising to his feet. “I did what had to be done. And now, you and your brothers are going to suffer for it. One by one.”

Alexei straightens, satisfied that he has managed to subdue me.

He thinks he’s won, standing there with that smug look on his face. But he’s underestimated me. Underestimated all of us.

I launch myself forward, the world tilting slightly as I drive into him with every ounce of strength I have. My shoulder slams into his chest, and we go crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs. The impact jars my ribs, but I don’t care. My fists are already flying, landing solid blows to his face and torso.

Alexei grunts, his smirk wiped clean as he scrambles to push me off. He’s strong—stronger than I expect—but I’m faster, fueled by rage and adrenaline. His elbow catches me in the side, sending a sharp pain through my ribs, but I grab his arm and twist, earning a satisfying crack as he cries out in pain.

“You think you can destroy us?” I growl, my voice low and venomous. “You think you can take Alice?”

Alexei manages to free one hand, swinging a knife he’s drawn from his jacket. The blade grazes my shoulder, sharp enough to tear through the fabric of my shirt and draw blood. I hiss in pain but grab his wrist, slamming it against the floor until the knife clatters out of his grasp.

“You’re pathetic,” he spits, his voice a mix of pain and venom. “You and your brothers. You’re nothing without me.”

He veers his knife at me again, slicing my arm, then uses my momentary distraction to knee me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I stumble back, gasping for air as he scrambles to his feet. Alexei grabs a metal pipe from the corner, swinging it in a wide arc.

I duck, the pipe whistling past my head, and grab a wooden plank from the debris around us.

Sparks fly as the pipe scrapes against the metal support beams. My back hits the wall, and for a moment, I think he has me cornered. But I sidestep his next swing, grabbing the pipe mid-swing and yanking it from his hands.

“Enough!” I shout, slamming the pipe against the ground.

“You’ve always been so predictable, Nikolai,” Alexei sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “Charging in, acting like a hero. But heroes don’t survive in this world.”

“I’m not trying to be a hero,” I snap, shifting slightly as I prepare for his next move. “I’m just trying to stop you.”

Before Alexei can retort, the door bursts open, and Ivan and Dmitri storm into the room. Ivan takes one look at the scene—Alice tied to the chair, me barely standing, and Alexei looming with the knife—and his face darkens with fury.

“What the hell is going on here?” Ivan growls, his voice low and dangerous.

“You,” Dmitri says. “You brought her here? Why?”

Alexei’s laugh is sharp and humorless. “You finally figured it out. Took you long enough, detective.”

“You betrayed us. You betrayed Elena,” I say.

Ivan stops walking. “You did it? You killed her? You risked everything—for what?”

“For revenge,” Alexei says, his voice cold. “For what was taken from me. And now, you’re all going to pay for it.”

He lunges suddenly, aiming for Ivan, but Dmitri fires. The shot grazes Alexei’s shoulder, forcing him to stumble back, but he doesn’t drop the knife. I seize the opportunity, throwing myself at him with all the strength I can muster. The impact sends us both crashing to the ground.

The fight is brutal, raw. Alexei’s punches are wild but powerful, and I can feel my ribs bruising with each hit. Ivan grabs him from behind, yanking him off me, and Dmitri moves in with a swift kick that sends the knife clattering across the floor.

“You’re outnumbered,” Dmitri growls, circling Alexei like a predator. “Give it up.”

Alexei’s laughter is deranged as he sways slightly on his feet. “You think this ends with me? Vadim’s already in motion. You’re too late.”

“Vadim?”

“It was easy to make him believe you were responsible for his sister’s death. And the emotional fool bought it.”

Ivan doesn’t wait for another word. He swings, his fist connecting with Alexei’s jaw in a sickening crack. Alexei stumbles, blood dripping from his mouth, but he doesn’t fall. Instead, he goes for Ivan, grappling with him in a desperate attempt to gain the upper hand.

Dmitri moves to intervene, but Alexei is fast, managing to slam Ivan into the wall with a sickening thud. I rush forward, grabbing Alexei from behind and locking my arms around him. He struggles, twisting violently, and we both crash to the floor again.

“Stay down!” I roar, pinning him as Dmitri kicks the knife farther out of reach.

But Alexei doesn’t give up. He headbutts me, pain exploding behind my eyes, and I roll off him, gasping. Ivan’s there in an instant, hauling Alexei up by the collar and slamming him into the wall.

“You’ve caused enough damage,” Ivan growls, his voice deadly. “This ends now.”

“You’re going to kill me, Ivan?” Alexei says, his voice steady, almost mocking. “After all, Morozov men stick together.” His tone is dripping with false sincerity. “I taught you better than this—we protect our own, don’t we? Isn’t that what you’ve always believed?”

“Don’t listen to him,” I say through gritted teeth, my body still aching from the earlier fight. “He’s manipulating you.”

But Ivan doesn’t lower the gun, nor does he pull the trigger. His jaw tightens, his breathing sharp, his finger hovering over the trigger.

With lightning speed, Alexei pulls a second gun from behind his back, aiming directly at Ivan. My heart lurches as I realize what’s happening, and before I can shout a warning, the deafening crack of a gunshot splits the air.

It’s not Alexei’s shot.

It’s Dmitri’s.

Standing off to the side, his gun raised, Dmitri fires point-blank. The bullet hits Alexei between the eyes, and for a moment, the smirk on his face freezes in place, his body jerking back. Then he collapses, lifeless, his weapon clattering to the ground beside him.

“Are you okay?” Dmitri asks Ivan, his voice calm but firm.

Ivan exhales shakily, lowering his gun. “He…he almost had me.”

I step forward, my chest tight with residual fear and anger. “He almost had all of us. If you hadn’t?—”

Dmitri cuts me off with a curt nod. “I wasn’t going to let him.”

I glance down at Alexei’s body, my stomach churning. There’s no satisfaction in this victory, no sense of triumph. Just a hollow ache, knowing what could have happened—and what already has.

Alexei’s lifeless body lies crumpled on the floor, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. My focus is on Alice—bound, gagged, trembling in the chair.

I drop to my knees before her, hands shaking as I untie the ropes around her wrists. Her skin is raw, the marks from the bindings stark against her pale flesh. “Alice,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”

Her wide eyes meet mine, tears brimming as the gag falls away. She gasps for air, her breaths ragged, and as soon as her arms are free, she collapses into me. My arms wrap around her instinctively, holding her as tightly as I can. She’s shaking, her tears soaking into my shirt, and I feel my own eyes burn.

“I thought—I thought I’d never see you again,” she sobs, her voice muffled against my chest.

“Never,” I whisper fiercely, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “I’ll never let anything happen to you. I swear it.”

Dmitri kneels beside us, his hands gently brushing over her arms and shoulders. “Alice, look at me,” he says, cupping her face in his hands. She lifts her tear-streaked face to him, her lips trembling. “I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner. I’m sorry we doubted you. I was wrong.”

Alice’s lips part, but no words come out. Instead, Dmitri leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I love you,” he says, the words so quiet I almost don’t hear them. “I should’ve told you before, but I love you.”

Ivan stands back for a moment, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he watches us. His face is unreadable, but when Alice looks at him, something shifts. He takes a slow step forward, then another, and before I know it, he’s kneeling on the other side of her, pulling her into his arms.

“I love you too,” Ivan says, his voice rough with emotion. “God help me, Alice, I love you. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

Alice looks at each of us, her tear-filled eyes wide with disbelief. “You…you all love me?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“Yes,” I say firmly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “We love you, Alice. More than anything.”

Her lips quiver, and fresh tears spill down her cheeks. “I love you too,” she says, her voice breaking. “All of you. I—I didn’t know if you felt the same.”

We gather around her, our arms wrapping around her as if to shield her from the world.

Alice pulls back slightly, her gaze moving between us. “I thought I’d never see you again,” she says, her voice trembling. “I thought I’d never get to tell you how much you mean to me.”

“You’ll always have us,” Dmitri says firmly, his hand brushing over her cheek. “You’re ours, Alice. And we’re yours.”

She smiles through her tears, leaning into his touch, and then turns to me, her eyes searching mine. “Promise me,” she says, her voice breaking. “Promise me this is real.”

I cup her face, my thumb brushing over her cheek. “It’s real,” I say. “We’re real. And we’re never letting you go.”