Chapter 5 - Blood and Milk
Panic erupted instantly. Screams echoed through the darkness as the elegant crowd scattered like panicked animals. The heavy, unmistakable thud of flashbang grenades detonating filled the air, followed by the blinding strobes of automatic gunfire.
“Clara, drop!” Nikolai yelled, his arm slamming around her waist as he pulled her behind a massive marble pillar just as a spray of bullets chipped the stone above their heads.
Leo woke up, letting out a sharp, terrified wail. Clara covered his head with her hands, pressing her body into the cold marble, her heart in her throat.
“Dimitri! Secure the north exit!” Nikolai roared into his earpiece, firing blindly into the dark ballroom. “Clara, listen to me. There is a secure vault behind the bar area. Move now! I will draw their fire.”
“Don't leave us!” Clara screamed over the deafening noise.
“I am right behind you. Run!”
Clara scrambled to her feet, keeping her body low as she sprinted through the shadows of the chaotic ballroom. The air was filled with the smell of gunpowder and expensive perfume. She could hear footsteps heavy behind her—someone was pursuing her.
She burst through the heavy oak doors into the private VIP lounge behind the bar. It was dark, illuminated only by the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. She scanned the room frantically for the vault Nikolai had mentioned.
“End of the line, girl,” a cold voice sneered from the doorway.
Clara turned around, her breath catching. It was Mikhail Volkov himself, a silenced pistol raised directly at her chest. Two of his personal executioners stood behind him, their weapons drawn.
“You played your part well, baker girl,” Mikhail mocked, stepping into the room. “But that bastard child represents a future I will not allow. Give him to me, and perhaps I will let you live long enough to return to your pathetic kitchen.”
Clara backed away until her spine hit the thick glass window. She looked down at Leo, who was crying hysterically now. The maternal fury that had been building inside her since the moment her own daughter died finally boiled over. She wasn't terrified anymore. She was enraged.
“You want him?” Clara hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “You’ll have to go through me.”
Mikhail laughed, a dry, rattling sound. “With pleasure.”
He raised the pistol, aligning the sights with Clara’s forehead.
CRASH.
The glass ceiling above them shattered into a million glittering shards as Nikolai descended like a dark angel of vengeance, rappelling down a tactical rope. Before Mikhail could react, Nikolai landed squarely on the first executioner, snapping his neck with a brutal, sickening twist.
The second guard raised his weapon, but Nikolai was faster. He pulled a combat knife from his boot, driving it deep into the man’s chest.
Mikhail panicked, spinning around and firing two wild shots at his nephew. One bullet grazed Nikolai’s shoulder, tearing through his tuxedo jacket, but Nikolai didn't even flinch. He closed the distance in a fraction of a second, his massive hand clamping around Mikhail’s throat, slamming the older man violently against the wall.
“You poisoned my sister,” Nikolai growled, his face twisted in a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. His fingers dug deeper into Mikhail’s flesh. “You tried to burn an innocent woman alive. And you dared to threaten my blood.”
“Nikolai... please...” Mikhail gasped, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple as his legs kicked uselessly in the air. “The Council... they ordered it...”
“I am the Council now,” Nikolai whispered coldly.
With a final, powerful jerk of his arm, Nikolai snapped his uncle’s neck. Mikhail’s body went limp, sliding down the wall onto the bloody floor like a discarded rag.
Silence descended upon the room, broken only by the sound of Nikolai’s heavy breathing and Leo’s soft whimpers.
Nikolai turned to Clara, his tuxedo ruined, covered in blood that wasn't his own. The terrifying, murderous aura he possessed slowly faded as his eyes landed on her and the baby. He walked over, his steps heavy with exhaustion, stopping just inches away from her.
He reached out, his bloody hand stopping just short of touching her face, before dropping to his side. “Are you hurt?”
“We’re alive,” Clara whispered, her voice trembling as she looked at the carnage around them. She looked up into Nikolai’s eyes—the eyes of a monster who had just saved her life twice. “Is it over?”
“Mikhail is dead. The Council members who supported him will be hunted down by dawn,” Nikolai said, his voice firm and unwavering. He looked down at Leo, who had finally stopped crying, comforted by Clara's scent. “The Volkov throne is secure. The boy is safe.”
He looked back up at Clara, his icy gaze holding a new, profound warmth. “But he still needs to eat. And I still need you, Clara. Not just for one night. For as long as it takes.”
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Clara looked down at the child she had saved, the child who had saved her from drowning in her own grief. She knew she could never go back to her simple life at the bakery. She was part of this dark world now, tied to the mafia boss and his newborn heir by blood, fire, and milk.
“Then let’s go home, Nikolai,” Clara said softly, stepping closer to him. “Let’s go home and feed our boy.”
