15
Antonio
I head up the stairs after visiting the prisoner, Mikhail, and having a word with Aurielo and Jacopo.
For now, we have what we need—targets for the bratva compounds in Chicago, Los Angeles, and just outside of Breckenridge.
I hurry to find Dante, Alessandro, Jace, and their close associates, to discuss our tactical advantage. We need to strike while we still have the element of surprise.
Except Mikhail has been held for over two days. Won’t they be expecting an attack? Have they moved all their influential leaders to another off-site location?
We don’t know all their safe house locations, only outside New York, where we found Mikhail.
The leaders discuss what they think is the best course of action. We’ve already attacked the bratva compound in New York. I leave the decision entirely up to them. It’s their men at risk going in and leading the charge.
We don’t want to open ourselves up to another attack. The message is evident amongst the group. We need to end this tyranny once and for all.
Mario comes into the study where we’re discussing strategy and a calculated response.
“This came just a few minutes ago for you,” Mario says as he hands me a sealed envelope.
“Thank you,” I say, dismissing him. His responsibility is to keep a close eye on Aleksandra and make sure that she doesn’t attempt an escape or sneak down to converse with her brother.
Are the DNA results inside the envelope?
“Excuse me,” I say and step out of the study, heading for my office and shutting the door. While the privacy of my office is ideal for a meeting with one or two individuals, it isn’t set up for large-scale events like the one that we’re having at the complex.
I don’t worry about the guards overhearing our discussions. They are men I have little choice but to trust, and if they betray me, they’re dead.
I fiddle with the envelope in my hands. I’m not ready for the truth, whatever it may be.
If I’m Sophia and Liam’s father, what then?
Aleksandra will hate me if I force custody on her.
But if they’re my children, they should know their father. And I’m nowhere near the monster their Uncle Mikhail is. He’s a bratva boss who likes to flex his muscle and threaten anyone who looks at him the wrong way.
I grab the letter opener from my top drawer and tear the envelope. Sliding the folded sheet of paper, I open it to reveal the results.
They’re my children.
I slump into the chair at my desk. My heart hammers in my chest. I thought relief would flood through me at the news, but instead, it’s a rush of adrenaline.
I’m a father.
I’m their father.
What do I know about children? Let alone having two of them.
“Fuck!” I curse, grateful that no one else can hear my outburst within the closed space.
I drop the results on the desk and pinch the bridge of my nose.
Sophia and Liam are mine. I should be ecstatic, thrilled, delighted.
My hands tremble, and I swallow the bile that rises to my throat. I can’t ignore it any longer, and burying my head in the sand won’t do a lick of good.
I stand and clomp through the office and down the hall, making my presence known as I approach the living room.