Secret Bratva Daddy

Chapter 8Avros

8

Avros

T he shrill ring of my phone cuts through the silence of my study. I glance at the caller ID and sigh, steeling myself for what's to come.

"Richard," I answer, my voice clipped. "What news do you have for me?"

"Nothing good, I'm afraid," my lawyer's voice crackles through the speaker. "There's been a development in Miron's case."

I lean back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Out with it."

Richard clears his throat. "We've identified a key witness. A man named Lance Halloway. He claims to have seen the whole thing go down."

My blood runs cold. "How credible is he?"

"Very," Richard admits. "And that's not the worst of it. The prosecution is moving to put him under witness protection. Once that happens..."

"He'll be untouchable," I finish, my jaw clenching.

"Exactly." There's a pause, heavy with implication. "Of course, if something were to happen before he enters protection, well, that would be quite unfortunate, wouldn't it?"

I close my eyes, understanding perfectly what Richard is suggesting. A month ago, I wouldn't have hesitated. One word from me, and Lance Halloway would disappear without a trace. Problem solved.

But now...

"Send me everything you have on him," I say finally. "I'll consider our options."

As I end the call, I can't shake the uneasy feeling in my gut. When did I become so hesitant, so conflicted?

The soft glow of my desk lamp casts long shadows across the study as I open the file Richard sends over. Lance Halloway's face stares back at me from a grainy photograph—mid-thirties, unremarkable features, the kind of man you'd pass on the street without a second glance.

And yet, this unassuming figure holds my brother's fate in his hands.

I reach for my phone, fingers hovering over the keys. One call. That's all it would take. One word from me, and Lance Halloway ceases to be a problem.

It's what the old Avros Petrov would have done without hesitation. The cold-blooded killer who cares for nothing but power and family.

But Sydney's words from that night in the sauna echo in my mind: "A monster. A cold-blooded killer who cares for nothing but power."

Is that who I am? Is that who I want to be?

I growl in frustration, shoving away from the desk. What's wrong with me? When did I become so soft, so... human?

Pacing the length of the study, I try to shake off these unwelcome doubts. I'm Avros fucking Petrov. I do what needs to be done to protect what's mine.

And yet...

I think of Miron, alone in that cell, counting on his big brother to fix everything like always. The weight of responsibility settles heavy on my shoulders. I've always carried this burden, but somehow it feels heavier now. More complicated.

A soft knock interrupts my brooding. I turn to see Sydney entering, a tray of coffee balanced carefully in her hands. The sight of her nearly steals my breath. She's a vision in a simple sundress, her fiery hair tumbling in loose waves around her shoulders. But it's the concern etched on her face that truly captivates me.

"Is everything okay?" she asks softly, setting the tray down on a side table. "You've been in here for hours."

I make my decision in that moment. I can't let Sydney see this side of me, not yet. Not when I'm still trying to understand it myself. I tuck the file on Lance away, forcing a smile that feels brittle even to me.

"Just business, nothing for you to worry about," I say, moving to pour us both a cup of coffee.

Sydney steps closer, close enough that I can smell the faint floral scent of her shampoo. "Are you sure?" she presses gently. "You seem... tense."

As she reaches for her cup, our fingers brush. The simple touch sends a jolt of electricity through me, and I have to stifle a groan. Even now, with the weight of Miron's fate hanging over me, my body responds to her proximity like a magnet to true north.

I realize, with a sinking feeling in my gut, that I'm lying to myself as much as to her. Pretending I can have something with a normal woman, even as I face the decision to kill an innocent man. Everything has changed since Sydney came into my life, and I'm no longer sure I can keep my two worlds separate.

"It's nothing you need to concern yourself with, krasotka ," I say, my voice rougher than intended. I reach out, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. The way she leans into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, nearly undoes me. "But I appreciate your concern."

Sydney's eyes snap open, a flash of something passing through them. Hurt? Disappointment? Before I can decipher it, she takes a step back, putting some distance between us.

"Of course," she says, her tone carefully neutral. "I didn't mean to pry. I just thought that after everything we've shared..."

She trails off, an uncertainty in her gaze that sets my teeth on edge, makes me want to ease the tension in her brow. I have to clench my fists at my sides to keep from reaching for her.

"Sydney," I start, not sure what I'm going to say but needing to ease the tension suddenly crackling between us. "I can't..."

But she shakes her head, forcing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "It's fine, Avros. I understand. There are things about your life, your work, that I can't be a part of. I get it."

The resignation in her voice cuts deeper than I expected. I want to tell her she's wrong, that I want her to be a part of every aspect of my life. But the words stick in my throat. Because isn't this what I wanted? To keep her separate, unsullied by the darkness of my world?

"I should go," Sydney says softly when I remain silent. "I have some work to catch up on. Enjoy your coffee."

As she turns to leave, panic wells up in my chest. I can't let her walk away, not like this. Not when everything inside me is screaming to hold her close.

"Wait," I say, my voice coming out as more of a growl than I intended. Sydney freezes, her hand on the doorknob. "Stay. Please."

She turns back slowly, her eyes wary but hopeful. "Avros?"

I close the distance between us in two long strides, cupping her face in my hands. "I'm sorry," I murmur, my thumbs tracing the delicate line of her cheekbones. "You're right. After everything we've shared, you deserve more than evasions and half-truths."

Sydney's breath hitches, her hands coming up to rest lightly on my chest. "Then talk to me," she pleads softly. "Let me in, Avros. Whatever it is, we can face it together."

For a moment, I'm tempted. The urge to unburden myself, to share the weight of my decisions with this remarkable woman, is almost overwhelming. But then I think of Lance Halloway, of the choice I still have to make. Of the darkness that lives inside me, the brutality I'm capable of.

I can't taint Sydney with that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

So instead, I do the only thing I can think of to distract us both. I kiss her.

It's not gentle or sweet. It's a claiming, a branding. I pour all my frustration, my desire, my growing need for her into the kiss. Sydney makes a soft sound of surprise against my lips before melting into me, her arms winding around my neck.

I walk her backwards until her back hits the bookshelf, swallowing her gasp as I press my body flush against hers. One hand tangles in her hair while the other grips her hip, holding her in place as I ravage her mouth.

Sydney meets my passion with her own, her nails scraping lightly against my scalp in a way that sends shivers down my spine. When I finally break the kiss, we're both breathing hard.

"Avros," she pants, her lips swollen and eyes glazed with desire. "What?—"

"Shh," I murmur, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. I inhale deeply, letting her scent wash over me, grounding me. "Don't talk. Just let me have this moment."

I feel her nod, her fingers carding gently through my hair. We stand like that for long minutes, just breathing each other in. I know I'm only delaying the inevitable. That sooner or later, I'll have to make a choice between the man I've always been and the man Sydney makes me want to be.

But for now, I let myself get lost in her warmth, in the steady beat of her heart against my chest. Tomorrow, I'll deal with Lance Halloway. Tomorrow, I'll face the consequences of my choices.

Tonight, I just want to hold Sydney close and pretend, for a little while longer, that I'm worthy of her love.

As if reading my thoughts, Sydney pulls back slightly, her hand coming up to cup my cheek. "Whatever it is," she says softly, her eyes shining with a trust I don't deserve, "we'll figure it out together. Okay?"

I nod, not trusting my voice. But even as I lean in to capture her lips once more, a cold certainty settles in my gut.

I'm going to have to make a choice. And soon. Because I can't keep living in both worlds forever. Something's got to give.

And when it does, I pray that Sydney will still look at me the way she does now. With hope. With trust. With love.

But a darker part of me, the part I've tried so hard to keep hidden from her, whispers that I'm fooling myself. That once she sees the true extent of what I'm capable of, she'll run screaming.

As we break apart, both breathless and flushed, I make a decision. I'll give myself one more day. One day to pretend that I'm not going to do the inevitable. Not going to make the call, put out the hit.

For Sydney. For the man she believes me to be.

I look down at Sydney, memorizing every detail of her face. The curve of her cheek, the sparkle in her green eyes, the soft bow of her lips. I want to remember her like this. Before everything changes.

"I should go," I say roughly, stepping back. "There are some things I need to take care of."

Sydney nods, a flicker of confusion passing over her features. "Alright. Will I see you for dinner?"

"Of course, krasotka ," I reply, forcing a smile. "I wouldn't miss it."

As she leaves the study, I turn back to my desk. To the file on Lance Halloway that could destroy everything.

I sink into my chair, staring at the grainy photo of the man who holds my brother's fate in his hands, and a cold, familiar resolve settles over me.

When it comes down to it, because there's truly no other choice... I'll do what needs to be done. To protect Miron. To protect my family.

Even if it means losing Sydney in the process.