Forced Mafia Bride (Yezhov Bratva #2)

Chapter 18 – Nikolai

I stared out the passenger window, the lights reflecting from the tall city buildings blurring together and creating flashing white rotating circles through the windshield as Anatoly navigated the streets. My mind raced with every possible scenario, but my eyes kept drifting back to Aiden’s message on my phone.

“Ronan took Rosalyn to Nova Clinic, 5th and Main. That’s all he says.” I re-read the text for the tenth time, searching for hidden meaning.

Why Nova Clinic? What would he take there? Even if there was the slightest possibility that she’d been sick and needed medical attention, I could bet two of my properties that Ronan would have left her to die. He’d just find another way to extort funding from Tristan—or better yet, some other asshole to extort from. Ronan always made sure he never fully ran out of options.

“How much longer?”

My patience wore thinner than a used-up thread. I didn’t understand it—the overwhelming feeling to get to her as soon as possible. Like an itch that would only stop after the antidote was applied. The maddening desire to set my eyes on her one more time. But the crazier part was that I was succumbing to it because I knew Rosalyn was the antidote.

“Ten minutes. I’m using shortcuts, so we’ll be there soon.” Anatoly answered. As always, his voice stayed steady as he floored the gas, pushing the needles past the speed limit.

I clenched my jaw, frustration simmering. Suspense should have made it to the first on the list of things I fucking hated. Aiden’s message had been cryptic, lacking any context. And I fucking needed to know the current status update. Was she injured, or was this some kind of twisted trap?

But Aiden was involved, and I wasn’t entirely sure how he’d done it or when it happened, but the younger man has earned my trust over the years—which was pretty fucking hard to do. Anatoly could attest to that.

My thoughts spiraled into darkness. Right from the start, the patterns had proven that the Gallaghers’ motives were never straightforward. There was definitely a reason for choosing Nova Clinic, and I needed to uncover it.

“Anatoly, do we have any connections at Nova Clinic?” I asked, and he met my question with an unreadable side glance.

“A few,” he replied, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to check the cars following behind. “Dr. Petrov owes us a favor.”

“Get him on the line.”

“But we don’t know for sure what’s happening there at—”

“She’s at the fucking clinic. Aiden said Ronan took her there. Whatever it is, Rosalyn’s the one who needs attention,” was all I offered.

He nodded and plucked out his phone. As Anatoly dialed, I drummed my fingers on the armrest. Time was ticking.

“Dr. Petrov is off duty today. He has no idea what’s going on at the clinic,” Anatoly said once the call dropped. His dark gaze swept my face. “We’re almost there. We would—”

“Get Aiden on the line. We need an update.”

I needed one.

His heavy sigh breached the silence, but he did as I instructed. Seconds later, his eyes stole a glimpse at my face again.

“No answer.”

He redialed, but Aiden remained unreachable. Aiden was always at Ronan’s side. That must have been the reason he was unable to answer calls.

My fingers picked up the pace, drumming faster by the window.

I was the only one in the position to explain how hot the fury heated my blood. I was the one with the unexplainable, irrational aching to have her in my arms again. Not another fucking person could get it, so I didn’t blame him or my men for oftentimes whispering behind my back that I’d lost it.

I might have.

“How many more fucking minutes, Anatoly?”

At this point, everything that proceeded from my mouth was more or less a growl through gritted teeth.

“Two minutes.”

My hand went to the customized black-silver GLOCK tucked between the belt hoops of my pants. I pulled out the cold steel, lightly brushing my finger above the trigger. Today was a trigger-happy day, and if I didn’t get the answers I sought, a lot of people were going to have to pay the fucking consequences.

As we turned onto 5th and Main, the Nova Clinic’s sleek glass fa?ade came into view. Anatoly pulled up to the entrance. He killed the low purr of the engine and leaned back, scanning the area through the windshield. “It looks deserted.”

Aiden wouldn’t send a message that was an unnecessary lie. And even if he fucking did, I wasn’t leaving here without her.

I nodded. “Let’s move.”

We stepped out of the car, the warm noon breeze enveloping us, and my men, who followed in the cars behind us, jumped out as well. I surveyed the clinic’s perimeter, sensing an eerie stillness. Anatoly was right; the place looked deserted. And we might have turned back except for the couple dozen men that stood guard outside the building. Sighting us, two of the men stepped forward, yelling something solid in Irish. Something I didn’t give a fuck about.

Anatoly looked at me, and I questioned with a brow.

“He said we shouldn’t take any step further.”

“Since when did you understand Irish?”

He chuckled. “Since he spoke Gaelic, and my Gaelic is pretty solid.”

“Why the fuck would he speak Gaelic?”

Anatoly shrugged. “Probably to scare us? I don’t know. People do crazy things these days. Fucking amateur.”

I rolled my eyes and shoulders. Then, I looked at my gun, and the bastard that thought he could boss me around.

“Yeah, well, who do you take orders from?”

Anatoly smiled and followed me when I took more steps forward.

“THIS IS A FINAL WARNING!” the idiot yelled louder in a broken thread of what was supposed to sound like English. Of course, I wasn’t going to listen to him. We kept walking. “YOU CHOOSE TO—”

An empty bullet shell tinked on the concrete, and his body dropped to the floor with a heavy thud, a trail of red quickly forming a pool under his head. I aimed my gun at another willing victim. “He talked too much. Who’s next?”

The shock on their faces said they were stunned that I’d snuffed out the life of their colleague faster than they could blink. But soon, the reality dawned on them that we’d started a war, and anger quickly replaced the shock on their faces. Man after man, the weapons came out: guns, sticks, and daggers. But this was a war I intended to win.

“Anatoly?”

“Boss?”

“We’re playing the offensive.”

“Fuck, yes!”

Like me, he maintained his composure, sticking one hand in the pocket of his pants as he gunned down one… two, three men. Only bringing out the fist when necessity demanded that he lay a punch.

I refilled my magazine and laid two bullets in one man who thought he was big enough to swing a fist at my jaw. The fist connected, but I swung an arm, knocked him out, and made sure he never saw the light of the day again. Eager to march inside the building, I advanced forward toward the entrance, shooting down every man who was nothing but a hindrance and leaving the fight behind for Anatoly and the other men to handle. I’d barely gotten to the entrance when Ronan emerged through the screen doors, aiming a gun at my head. Aiden followed after him but made a motion with his hand, signaling that he was going to make himself scarce from the scene.

The hate in his eyes screamed no mercy, and I knew he was going to pull the trigger.

I swerved to the right, just in time to dodge the bullet that went flying out of his gun. The loud gunfire echoed in the empty lot, mingling with the grunts and angry yells coming from the men behind us.

“Lucky shot,” I called out.

His bushy brows dipped below the center of his forehead in fierce concentration, and his finger went down on the trigger again and again as he advanced forward like a robot programmed for destruction.

Ronan fired at will, on instinct, like a madman.

Unknown to him, that worked to my advantage.

Mentally, I did a countdown as the empty shells hit the floor.

Three.

Two.

One.

He ran out of bullets, and I tucked back my gun, grinning as we hastened our steps, ready for a clash.

If he wanted to go down hard, it would be my pleasure to grant his fucking wish.

“Fucking bastard!” he screeched, eyes reddened with a vicious rage. Ready to burn, ready to destroy. “You thought you’d won, didn’t you? You thought you’d done something epic, swooping in to save that fucking bitch and humiliating me. Well, I’m pleased to tell you that I’m standing right here, and it’s going to take forever before you ever get me to fall.”

I shrugged off my jacket, letting it fall to the ground, and pushed up my sleeves before he got within close range. He assumed a stance, a weak one, bringing his folded fists up to his nose, straining the thick sleeves of his dark green jacket before throwing a punch. The days of tedious boxing lessons I’d had with Timur and my brother rushed back to me, every technique, stroke, and skill, but I’d predicted that Ronan would be sloppy, and he didn’t disappoint.

I caught his fist in the air and twisted his arm behind his back, all the way up his spine to the junction between his shoulders. His loud cry of anguish made most heads turn in the lot, but I wasn’t done with him. I pushed his arm higher and pressed his back to my chest, smiling at the pain in his voice as he growled.

Moving my lips to his ear, I whispered, “ Forever ?” I chuckled. “You flatter yourself, Ronan. This is going to be a lot easier than I thought. I need less than sixty seconds to bring you down to your fucking knees.”

Another nudge of his arm up his back wobbled his knees and caused a burst of crimson to spread all over his face. “ Ggrr…God—fuck.”

I clenched my teeth. “And the next time you call her a bitch, I swear you’ll eat your fucking tongue for lunch.”

I spun him around, barely giving him time to spit a comeback, and connected my fist with his face. I heard a sickening crunch. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he collapsed like a dead tree to the floor.

“Fucking pathetic.” I brought out my gun to finish off the fucking nuisance, once and for all, when a blood-curdling scream rang out—one that was not Ronan’s. It was female, and the agony in that scream ripped through my heart like a fruit shredder. I fixed the gun back between my belt.

“ Rosalyn .”

I might have busted through the entrance, jogged down the hallway, or practically ran all the way for all I fucking cared. I traced her screams, running frantically in search of the room it came from.

Her shouts got louder, my feet moved faster, and I barged into the first room that seemed like the one I was looking for. A doctor with silver hair stood by the bed, holding her while a nurse stayed on the opposite side, a needle glinting under the rich orange ray of the setting sun positioned on her arm. They looked back at the door, and the nurse’s hands went limp. The size of her eyeballs enlarged comically, and the syringe clattered on the floor.

Doctor—I flashed a glance to his name tag—Keith’s eyes moved from my bruised knuckles and back to my face, and he backed away, the color draining from his face every step he took.

“Mr. Yez—”

“Get the fuck out of here now. ALL OF YOU!”

Stainless steel clanked on the floor, and the operation table rattled when they bumped into each other. They ran as fast as their legs could take them to the door.

I planted myself by her side, and on seeing me, she busted into a fit of uncontrollable tears. They ran down the sides of her face, soaking the pillow underneath her head. The turmoil of emotion I felt after setting my eyes on her again could hardly be expressed.

Quietly, my fingers began working the ropes bound around her wrist while my eyes did the scanning of her appearance. Even though she was a teary-eyed mess, her beauty remained untainted.

Watching her cry helplessly squeezed my chest in the most uncomfortable way. There were tiny patches of skin on her tangled head, some missing hair. I grated my teeth. Dark bruises on her cheeks, her jaw…everywhere. But something else was different. I worked the second rope on her wrist, observing her with more attention. She’d gained some weight.

No, that wasn’t it.

Twisting fully, my curious gaze dropped on the bulge protruding from her belly. A chill ran down my spine, like I’d been doused with cold water. Time froze, and reality distorted like a funhouse mirror. I refused to meet her watchful gaze.

“You’re pregnant.”

It wasn’t a question but rather a statement of the glaring fact.

She stayed quiet, but I already knew the answer.

“Is it mine?”

From the corner of my eyes, I saw her nod, and I gripped the edge of the mattress to steady myself. It was unnecessary for her to say anymore to vindicate herself. I knew she was telling the truth.

A baby.

My child.

A mix of emotions assaulted me. Elation, uncertainty, and responsibility. Having a child meant a lot of things, and for a man like me, an opportunity like this was equivalent to a new life, a chance to do something right. Then, there was the uncertainty about whether or not I was ready to be a father. I didn’t have the slightest clue. But I was sure of one thing: I had to ensure their safety.

Now, I faced her, giving her access to view the turbulent waves of conflicting emotions passing through my eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She whimpered and flinched when she tried to sit up. “Niko….”

“Lie the fuck down, then answer.”

She licked her lips and opened her mouth but stopped abruptly, looking at something past my head. Before I blinked or turned, her small hand reached for the gun between my belt, and the loud crack of a gunshot bounced off the walls. I looked behind me to see Ronan clutching a gun aimed directly at my head. A dot formed on his shoulder pad and quickly spread across. He applied pressure on it with his hands, doubting that Rosalyn had just shot him.

But the doubt in his eyes didn’t last very long. It morphed into determination, strengthened his finger hovering over the trigger.

And another thundercrack resounded in the small room.

I’d snatched my gun from Rosalyn and shot him, finally finishing him off. He deserved an ending crueler, but there was no time to be creative. We watched another dot quickly spread on his white dress shirt above his heart. His gun fell to the floor, and so did his knees. Blood poured in thick trails from his mouth, and he choked, falling face-first to the floor.

“Fuck you, Nikolai.” He coughed and wheezed, struggling to draw his last breath. “Fuck...!”

His head went limp on the floor, and the last word never made it out of his bloody mouth. I stared at him. Rosalyn did, too, the heat of her gaze searing past my arm as she took in the sight of him miserably lying on the floor, disheveled and lifeless.

When I looked back at her, her eyes housed unshed tears that waited to fall. What they shared couldn’t be called a sibling relationship. I had enough information to know they were more like strangers who had lived in the same house for over two decades. But they shared blood and a connection, no matter how small, to the man she’d adored all her life—her father.

Ronan was still her brother, and I’d taken his life right in front of her eyes.

I narrowed my eyes at her, rubbing the red marks on her wrists. “If I didn’t kill him, it would have been us.”

And her eyes finally released the tears they held.

It could have been relief or grief or maybe a mix of both.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever know.