Chapter 4
Chapter Four
NIKO
“W hat’s crawled up your ass and died?” Darian asks as we torch all the evidence of yet another dead end.
I glare at my brother, not in the mood for his usual sarcasm. "Nothing. Just focus on the task at hand."
Darian raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Come on, Niko. I know you better than that. You've been in a foul mood for days now. What's going on?"
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. The smell of burning flesh and gasoline fills the air, reminding me of the mess we're in. "It's Emylyah," I admit finally. "She's pregnant."
Darian's eyes widen in surprise. "Shit. I thought you'd be happy about that. Isn't an heir what you've always wanted? I thought that’s why you took a wife.”
I turn away, unable to meet his gaze. "It is. Or it was. But now, with everything that's happening..." I gesture to the burning spectacle around us. "How can I bring a child into this world? Our world?"
My brother is silent for a moment, processing. “So, what did you tell her?"
"That it can't happen," I say, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "That our life has no place for a kid."
Darian lets out a low whistle. "Damn, Niko. That's cold, even for you."
I clench my jaw, irritation flaring. "What was I supposed to say? That I'm thrilled at the prospect of painting a target on my own child's back?"
"Maybe start by breaking it to her a little more gently?” Darian suggests dryly. "Look, I get it. Our world is fucked up. But pushing Lyah or your child away isn't going to make things safer."
I turn to face him, anger and frustration bubbling up. "You know why, Darian. Or have you forgotten our sister?”
The bitter look he gives me shows my comment hits its mark, but something else in his eyes still makes me feel like I need to elucidate.
“Every day, we're fighting longer and harder to keep our territory, to stay alive. How can I protect a child when we can barely protect ourselves? Or have you forgotten how many men we’ve lost recently? "
Darian's expression softens slightly. "That's what family is for, brother. We protect each other. Your kid would have an entire network looking out for them."
I shake my head, unconvinced. "It's not enough. Not with the storm I can feel coming."
"So, what's your plan? Force Lyah to get rid of it? What the fuck do you think that will do for your relationship? Lyah’s always been desperate for affection. She’s like a sponge absorbing whatever tiny crumb you decide to throw her way. You’ll destroy her if you do that."
The thought makes my stomach churn, but I play devil’s advocate. "I think having her cherished, defenseless child abducted, tortured, sent to her piece by piece while they’re held to ransom would be a whole lot worse. That would destroy her. Destroy both of us.”
“Quit being so melodramatic,” Darian growls. “You sound like a girl.”
If it was anyone else, I would have filleted them by now, and the glare I send his way tells Darian that.
He lifts his palms in supplication. “I’m just saying, you can’t foresee anything that might happen in the future, and with enough security, both Lyah and your child will be perfectly safe.
Hell, you can send them away for a while if we end up going to war. ”
I rub my hands over my face, at war with myself right now, if no one else.
“Think on it at least, before you do anything rash. Where’s Lyah now?”
“She’s staying with Roisin for a few days,” I admit, feeling tired for reasons other than lack of sleep.
Darian nods, sagely. “So, you’ve pissed her off already.
As quiet as Lyah usually is, she always gets on her soap box when she feels it necessary.
Remember how she reamed out Ciaran Maguire’s ass when Roisin needed a doctor?
Mark my words, Niko. She won’t play by the rules if you box her into a corner. ”
I grunt, acknowledging the truth in Darian's words. Emylyah may seem meek and compliant most of the time, but she has an inner fire that flares up when pushed too far. I actually admire that about her.
The memory of her standing up to one of the most dangerous men in the city flashes through my mind… followed by the spanking she earned as a result.
And the primal sex, which had her screaming my name as she pulsed around my cock afterwards.
We seem to have drifted so far apart since then, and I know it’s down to me. Occasions like that one cause me to distance myself from her because it feels like I’m getting too close. And if I let her get too close, she’ll distract me.
That’s not something I can afford. Especially right now.
Fuck! Why couldn’t she have just gotten pregnant at a different time?
"You're right," I admit grudgingly, knowing it’s true.
Darian claps me on the shoulder. "So, what are you going to do about it?"
I shake my head, frustration mounting. "I don't know. Part of me wants this child more than anything. An heir, a legacy. But the rational part of my brain is screaming how it's too dangerous."
"Since when has the great Nikolai Radaeva let danger stop him?" Darian challenges, a hint of a smirk on his face.
I shoot him a withering look. "This is different. It's not just my life on the line."
Darian's expression turns serious. "No, it's not. But think about it this way - having a child to protect might make you an even more formidable leader. It could give you an edge, a reason to fight harder, to be smarter, to consolidate our power even further."
His words give me pause. I hadn't considered that angle. The thought of a child - my child - to protect does ignite something primal within me. A fierce determination I haven't felt in years.
"Maybe so," I concede reluctantly. "But it doesn't change the fact that I've already told Emylyah it can't happen. I can't just go back on that now."
Darian rolls his eyes. "Of course you can. It's called admitting you were wrong and apologizing. I know it's a foreign concept to you, but trust me, it works wonders."
I scowl at him, but there's truth in his words. Pride has always been my downfall, and Emylyah has borne the brunt of it more times than I care to admit.
"Fine," I growl. "I'll talk to her when she gets back from Roisin's. But first, we need to deal with this mess." I gesture to the smoldering remains around us.
Darian nods, his expression turning sober.
"Agreed. But at least this will send a message that we're not to be trifled with." He gestures to the derelict building and the burning bodies within it. None of the men we tortured gave us any new information, though Red Scorpion was once again mentioned. But still nothing concrete about the people behind the mystery or who’s in charge. It’s beyond frustrating, and I wonder if some of the men we’ve lost recently have met the same end at the hands of an equally paranoid syndicate trying to get information.
It’s more than paranoia, though. It’s an instinct, a gnawing certainty that there’s something rotten in the air, something we’re missing.
It’s in the way the younger soldiers look at me when I pass, like they’re wondering if I still have my finger on the pulse.
Or how the usual street informants scurry away or flat-out vanish.
It’s in the uptick of anonymous threats, coded messages, and the fact that our last three arms shipments were hit—clean, surgical, almost like an inside job.
There’s a pattern here, one I can sense but not quite see.
Every day I search for a leak, a traitor, and come up empty, and it makes my skin itch with the conviction that the next betrayal is waiting just around the corner.
What will it be next? Something more personal than an arms shipment?
But I refuse to let uncertainty paralyze me.
I snuff out my cigarette and grind it under my heel, turning to Darian who’s watching me with that old mixture of loyalty and calculated caution.
I know every man who’s died in the last month.
I know the way their bodies looked, the crude butchery, the overkill that screamed message more than necessity.
Our enemies are getting bold, and I’d be a fool not to retaliate in kind—not just with blood, but with a pointed reminder to the city that there’s a reason the Radaeva name inspires dread.
And without a concrete target, that’s the only message I can send.
I nod grimly, my mind shifting back to business. "Double the patrols on our borders. I want eyes on every street corner, every alley. If so much as a stray cat crosses into our territory without our permission, I want to hear about it."
Darian raises an eyebrow. "That's a lot of manpower, Niko. Are you sure we can spare it?"
"We can't afford not to," I growl. "Something big is coming. I can feel it in my bones. We need to be prepared."
My brother studies me for a moment, then nods. "Alright. I'll make it happen. What about our allies? Should we see what they know? Maybe call in some favors?"
I consider this, weighing the risks against the potential benefits.
"Not yet. Let's see if we can make any headway into who’s behind this first." Emylyah’s friendship with Roisin has stood us in good stead with the Irish. It’s one of the reasons I married her.
And Roisin’s marrying into La Cosa Nostra has pulled in another thread.
But allies are only allies for as long as both parties find it useful, and betrayal isn’t something the players in our circles lose sleep over.
I still think there might be something rotten at the core of the old school Italian Mafia.
Something I suspect didn’t die along with the Viper, and as much as I respect Mika, he’s not yet in charge.
And while I trust Callum and Ciaran, blood is thicker than water at the end of the day, and they’ve officially allied with La Cosa Nostra through marriage, so that’s always where their loyalties will lie.
I just hope Darian keeps sight of that, since I know damn well he’s fucking Callum Maquire, and has been for a while now.
The gender of his bed mates doesn’t bother me, although he’ll need to find a beard at some point - they both will.
Hell, one of them should probably consider dating Million’s daughter, Catriona, since he’s pushing so hard for it.
Homosexual relationships within the ranks of either organization will never be accepted.
It’s one of the reasons my brother has such a massive chip on his shoulder.
Callum as well. That fucker’s as bad tempered as Darian is vicious. A match made in hell.
I push those thoughts aside, refocusing on the task at hand. "For now, we tighten security and keep our eyes and ears open. If anyone so much as whispers about moving against us, I want to know about it."
Darian nods, his expression hardening. "Consider it done. And Niko? Don't wait too long to talk to Emylyah. Women have a way of making decisions for themselves if you leave them hanging."
His words hit a nerve, reminding me of the stubborn streak Emylyah tries so hard to hide. I grunt in acknowledgment, already dreading the conversation ahead. But Darian's right - I can't put this off.
As we finish cleaning up the scene, my mind drifts to Emylyah. The image of her, soft and warm in our bed, her stomach swollen with my child, flashes unbidden through my mind. It stirs something in me - a longing I've been trying to ignore.
Maybe Darian's has a point. Maybe this child could be a source of strength rather than weakness. But the risks... Christ, the risks are almost too much to contemplate.
I’m not a paranoid bastard. I know first-hand just how depraved this world can be. Just like I know Darian hasn’t forgotten our sister, Agnieszka. It was her death that made him the vicious asshole he is today, after all.