Filthy Lies (Akopov Bratva Book 2)

The sound of men’s voices pulls me from sleep.

Not just any voices—these voices are panicking. Tense, urgent, hushed but still carrying through our secure compound.

My eyes snap open to find Vince’s side of the bed empty, the sheets cold. He’s been up for a while.

Something’s wrong.

I slide out of bed and jog to check on Sofiya in her bassinet. She’s still asleep just as I left her. So I grab my robe and move to the bedroom door, pressing my ear against it until the sounds start to take shape.

“—additional teams on the north perimeter.” That’s Vince’s voice, controlled but barely.

“How many men?” Arkady’s voice now.

“At least thirty. Maybe more in the woods.”

“Armed?”noveldrama

“Heavily.”

My heart rate spikes. I open the door and step into the hallway.

The main living area of our secure compound has transformed overnight. Armed guards at every window. Men I’ve never seen before are busy checking weapons. Two of Vince’s tech guys are hunched over monitors displaying security camera feeds.

Vince stands at the center of the mayhem, barking orders left and right. He doesn’t look surprised to see me.

“What’s happening?” I ask, crossing to him.

“We’re fine.” He takes my hands. “Is Sofiya⁠—?”

“Still asleep. Vince, what’s going on?”

He hesitates, and I know whatever comes next is bad.

“We have visitors.” He guides me to the kitchen, away from the others. “Grigor Petrov and his men have established a perimeter around the property.”

It takes a moment for the words to register.

Grigor Petrov.

My father.

My biological father.

“He—what?” I grip the counter behind me. “How did he find us? I thought this place was secret.”

Vince pours coffee into a mug and hands it to me. His movements are rock-steady, but I can feel the tension radiating from him. “It was. Not anymore.”

I take a sip of coffee. “Are they… attacking?”

“Not yet. This is a show of force. A message.”

“What message?”

Vince’s eyes meet mine. “Grigor wants to meet you. And Sofiya, too. He’s given us three days to arrange it, or he’ll consider our refusal a hostile action.”

My breath catches. Three days to decide whether to meet the man who fathered me—the man who, until now, didn’t even know I existed.

“Rowan…” he starts. Seeing that I’m teetering, Vince takes the mug from my trembling hands. “This changes nothing. We increase security, we refuse the meeting, and we wait them out.”

I gawk at him. “That’s your plan?”

“It’s the only plan that keeps you and Sofiya safe.”

“You don’t think he’d hurt his own daughter and granddaughter, do you?”

Vince’s laugh is short and bitter. “You don’t know Grigor Petrov.”

“Neither do you.” I push away from the counter. “Not really. Not as my father.”

“He’s not your father.” Vince’s voice hardens. “He supplied DNA. That’s it.”

“But don’t you think it’s strange that he’s not attacking yet? If he just wanted leverage against you, he’d have tried to take us already.”

“This is what he does. He plays games.”

“Or maybe he genuinely wants to meet me.”

Vince runs a hand through his hair, exasperation etched clear on his face. “And you want to meet him, too? The head of a criminal organization that’s been at war with my family for generations?”

“I’m curious,” I admit sheepishly. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“Not enough to risk your life. Or Sofiya’s.”

I take a deep breath. “What if we negotiate terms? Meet on neutral ground, with security for both sides?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Vince—”

“This is not up for discussion, Rowan.” His voice rises, then he checks himself, glancing toward the bedroom where Sofiya sleeps. “I will not gamble with your safety.”

“It’s not gambling if we’re careful.” I step closer to him. “And it’s not your decision alone.”

His eyes narrow. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’s my biological father. So it’s my choice whether I want to meet him.”

“Is it your choice alone to expose our daughter to danger?”

That’s a slap in the face. “Not fair.”

“None of this is fair!” He slams his palm against the counter. “We’ve barely recovered from your kidnapping, Rowan. Sofiya isn’t even a month old. And now, Grigor fucking Petrov shows up demanding an audience?”

“He didn’t kidnap me, Vince. Your father did.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I know I’ve hit below the belt. Vince goes deathly still.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “That was— I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s the truth.” His voice is flat. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant, ultimately. I won’t let your naïveté put my family in danger.”

I pause as I hunt for the right words to explain the feeling that’s been growing since I first learned about Grigor.

“I’ve spent my entire life not knowing where I came from,” I whisper finally. “Who I got my green eyes from, or my terrible singing voice, or my tendency to overthink everything. And now, that person is right outside our door.”

Vince’s gaze doesn’t waver. “And if it’s a trap?”

“Then we handle it together. Like we’ve handled everything else.”

He turns away, bracing both hands on the counter. I can see the battle raging within him and I want like hell to be on his side to fight it.

“What if I lose you?” The question is so quiet I almost miss it.

I go to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my cheek against his back.

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.” His body remains rigid. “You don’t know what these people are capable of.”

“I know what you’re capable of.” I slip around to face him. “And I know that together, we’ve survived worse than a meeting with Grigor Petrov.”

He cups my chin. “I can’t lose you, Rowan.” His voice breaks. “Either of you. It would destroy me.”

“You won’t lose us.” I rise on tiptoes to kiss him. “I promise.”