Chapter Seventeen
Francesco
M y son’s sudden shout alerts me that something is wrong.
When I turn, I spot Dario moving closer to Chiara, his arms outstretched as he catches her before she can hit the ground. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her body closer to his, shouting out her name.
I move immediately.
Her body is limp as I reach my family’s side, and her eyes are closed.
The world seems to slow around me as I stare down at my daughter’s unconscious body.
Her face is pale, her eyes are closed, and her lips are parted slightly as she takes shallow breaths.
There is absolutely nothing else in the world that scares me more than this.
The weight in my chest, the panic, it suffocates me.
Dario adjusts his hold on her, and for a brief moment, I see the same terror reflected in his eyes.
Then, from the corner of my eye, I see both twins move. They are quick, moving in a synchronised way that is almost unsettling.
Nikolai’s hand reaches out for Chiara’s wrist as he checks for a pulse, and Mikhail hovers close, looking down at her like he might lose his mind if she does not wake up at this immediate moment.
I look at both men, searching their faces for any signs of doubt after everything that has been revealed, but I find nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
At this moment, they are looking to keep Chiara safe too.
“Get her on the sofa!” Mikhail barks out. “I’ll call someone to come in to check on Chiara.”
I hate it.
I despise that they are here, that they have played their part in contributing to this hell.
But I cannot deny what is evident in front of me.
These men care about my daughter.
I see it in the way they act quickly; how they frantically check her, and the way their rapid breaths catch in their throats.
This is not just for show. They really are desperate.
They want Chiara to be okay.
But why?
Why do these Bratva men care for her so much? Why is my daughter so important to them, even after everything that has been revealed?
The thought gnaws at me, twisting deep in my gut.
There is too much that I do not understand. There is too much that does not add up.
These Russians have torn us all apart, and yet these twins, men who should be my enemies for taking my daughter, are so protective over her.
As Dario continues to look over at Chiara, and so does Nikolai and Mikhail, I find my eyes moving to look at Isaak. He stands there, watching this entire scene unfold in front of him. His expression has not changed—it is still as hard as it is unyielding—but there is also something else there.
Something that feels like loss.
His loss.
Rage rises in my chest again, but this time, it is not just aimed at him.
It is aimed at everything.
All of it.
The lies.
The deceit.
The broken promises.
We are all part of this same twisted game, each of us losing something in this damn mess.
And for what?
I see his jaw clench as he steps forward, his eyes narrowing in my direction.
When Chiara stirs on the sofa, my eyes immediately move back to my daughter. She is desperately trying to take heavier breaths, like she is fighting the darkness that is holding her captive.
My heart lurches as I watch her struggle.
Leaning down, I rub my hand across her hair, whispering her name, hoping that it is enough to bring her back.
“Come on, Chiara. Open your eyes for me.”
There is a shift beside me as the twins move back slightly, allowing me to have more space.
Mikhail’s eyes linger on Chiara’s frame, a clear softness to them that I do not want to acknowledge. He looks at my daughter like she’s the only thing that matters to him right now. A part of me wants to shout at him, to tell him to stay away from my daughter, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
Not after everything he has found out tonight.
What is the point?
What is the point of any of this?
Chiara’s unconscious body beneath my hand reminds me of what is truly important.
I tighten my hold on her, moving closer to her, whispering soft words that are only meant for her ears to hear.
This is not about them.
This is not about revenge or pain any more.
This is about keeping her safe, and I will not let anything happen to my daughter.
Not ever again.
Isaak finally speaks, his voice cold, though tinged with something else—something I can’t quite place.
“She’s fine.” He says gruffly. “She’ll wake up, Francesco. If she could spend five weeks with my sons, and come out unharmed too, then she’s a fighter for sure.”
I do not care for his words.
I do not care about what he thinks.
And I choose to ignore that last part.
I will not even allow myself to wonder what things my daughter has endured in their captivity.
Instead, I give her my full attention instead.
I brush her hair from her face, keeping an eye on the steady rise and fall of her chest.
She is my entire world.
And I will be damned if I ever let anybody take her away from me ever again.
“We are getting out of here.” I mutter to Dario, my voice tight with determination. “I will not allow Chiara to be a pawn in this game any longer.”
Dario nods without any hesitation, his gaze hardening as he looks to Isaak, then to both of his sons.
“I agree.”
My son murmurs, his grip still firm on Chiara’s shoulder.
But as I look at the men around me—men who should be my enemies, men who have made my family’s life a hell—I realise something important: we are all connected by the same piece of history.
I feel the tension rising once more in the room as I keep my Chiara close, my thoughts racing, my heart pounding in my chest.
I want to take Chiara, and leave this damn place with my son by my side.
I just hope the Don will not make this too difficult.
But when I glance over at the twins, I see something I would never have expected to see.
A look of resolve crosses over Nikolai’s face, and his words make me feel raging, hot anger.
“No.” He says, his voice firm, cold too. “Chiara is not going anywhere with you.”
I glare at him.
How dare he?
Dario’s body becomes tense, and his fingers tighten around his sister’s shoulder.
I cannot blame him; he is just as protective of Chiara as I am of her.
Nikolai does not know what I am capable of, and he is a stupid man if he thinks I will listen to him so easily.
This is my daughter.
My blood.
I glance over at Dario, and a silent understanding passes between us.
Can we take on both the twins?
Can we stand our ground against Isaak and his sons if it comes to that?
Can we do the same if the Don stands with them?
The answer comes to me faster than I can process it.
Yes.
Of course we can.
I open my mouth to speak, to remind Nikolai of exactly who I am to Chiara, but something in Isaak’s gaze stops me.
Though there is an underlying power to the man—the Pakhan—I see a flicker of something else in his expression.
Something like understanding.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I try to suppress that fury that is bubbling beneath the surface.
After everything that has been revealed, everything that Chiara has now been made aware of, and everything that has just happened, I know this is not the time for yet another confrontation.
My daughter needs peace.
And I need to be the one to keep her safe.
No matter what I feel, no matter how much I want to tear these men apart for what they have done to her, I cannot let that happen right now.
I force myself to focus on Isaak’s face.
I can feel him weighing his options, just like I am.
He presses his lips into a thin line, and then, he steps forward.
His steps are slow, measured, and almost cautious.
Beside me, the Don nods, his face impassive, though I do notice his gaze dropping to my daughter’s unconscious figure.
My heart feels heavy in my chest.
I knew it was coming—fuck—I just didn’t think it would come so soon.
But it is all my fault.
If I had not done it, if I had listened to the Don, and if I had remained calm, I would not have owed him this.
I would never have needed to give in.
“We cannot keep fighting, not like this.” I say, my voice gravelly, but also surprisingly calm. “This…animosity is destroying both sides. We need peace. For ourselves. For our families.”
The words sting more than I care to admit, but I know they are true.
I look down at my daughter again, tears pricking the back of my eyes, as something inside me cracks. I hate that this is the reality of it all—that even after everything, this alliance between us remains.
But what other choice do I have?
“I want Chiara to be safe.” I continue saying, my voice becoming tighter with every word that leaves my mouth.
“That is all I want. I will agree to whatever it takes.” I look away from Chiara to Isaak, feeling my eyes narrow in his direction.
“But if anything happens to her, I will burn this place to the ground.”
He nods, the barest flicker of something like respect shining in his eyes.
“I understand, Francesco. Chiara is important to us too.”
His words sent a chill down my spine.
I want to ask him what he means by that, but I do not.
I do not need to.
Isaak’s involvement in this is already too deep, and too personal.
And in some strange way, I understand it.
He has lost more than he is willing to admit, just like I have.
“I…I can forget about the past.” I say, my voice firm. “But for Chiara’s sake, we need to agree to something peaceful.”
Isaak’s lips tighten as he glances over at his sons.
Both are still standing there, looking ready to charge at any moment.
As Isaak looks back at me, there is something in his gaze which I cannot quite place, but it’s enough for me to know that this is a moment of mutual understanding.
This is a moment to remember.
“You have my word.” Isaak says. “We’ll keep things peaceful. There’ll be no more animosity between our families.”
And with that, the air shifts.
It does not matter what our pasts hold.
It does not matter what sins have come before this.
Right now, we are only focusing on the future, and putting this all behind us.