Shattered Crown: A Dark Mafia Age Gap Romance (Kozlov Empire Book 4)

I wake up groggy and disoriented, only to find myself still tied to the bed in the cabin, exactly where Nadya left me. I’m dehydrated and weak, fighting the effects of the drugs, but I won’t give up. I have to try and free myself.

Time is lost on me. All I know is that dark turned into day and it’s back to dark now.

For the last however many hours, I’ve been working to loosen the knots that hold me in place. Gritting my teeth, I contort my body, wriggling and twisting to loosen the twine’s grip. I’ve already managed to gain a few inches of slack, and with each shift, the knots loosen, giving me enough room to maneuver.

I extend my arm, reaching for a glass shard that landed on the bed when Nadya broke the vase. The sharp edges glint in the dim light. It’s still a stretch, but desperation fuels me. My fingers are numb, my muscles scream in protest, but every fiber of my being is focused on this single, vital task—to free myself from these bindings. To save myself and this child.

To see Maxim again and tell him straight up that he’s the one for me. I’ve never felt this intensely before. Being his wife, building a real family together… It’s not what I planned, but now it’s all I want.

The rope bites into my skin, but I stretch my fingers, inching closer to the shard. My fingers brush against the cold, hard glass, and I nearly cry in relief. Carefully, I wedge the shard between my wrists, sawing at the twine with all the strength I can muster. Each movement is painstaking and exhausting, but I keep going.

The sound of a car door slamming freezes me in place.

Fuck. She’s back, and I’m not free yet. Time is running out.

I can hear Nadya beyond the doorway. I stop all movement, hiding the shard in my palm, not wanting her to know what I possess. She strides into the room, her face expressionless, a gun held firmly in her grip.

“What? No knitting needles?” I say in a weak voice.

She gives a cold laugh. “No need. This won’t take long.”

My spine stiffens. “What won’t?”

“You’ll see. Let me remind you not to do anything foolish. Bleeding out from a gunshot wound would be a terrible way for Maxim to find you. He’s already distraught, searching all over the city for his pregnant wife that ran away.”

Anger simmers in my gut, hot and consuming. ‘You’ve completely lost it,’ I snap, my words as sharp as knives despite my precarious situation. ‘You think by getting rid of me, you’re saving Maxim. Protecting him. From what? All you’re doing is causing more hurt, unraveling his life thread by thread. You’re not his savior—you’re his downfall.’

My words strike a nerve, and I see the flash of fury cross Nadya’s face before she delivers a stinging slap across my cheek. “You weren’t there in his darkest hours, after Irina had left him broken. It was me who helped him stand again. You see only the man he is now, not the one I saved. I refuse to let a harlot like you destroy him again. I couldn’t protect Arkady, but I’ll protect Maxim with everything I have.”

“This isn’t about you protecting him. It’s about your sick obsession with him. You’ve lost your mind if you think Maxim won’t discover the truth. He’s already on the trail of my aunt’s killer, and he’ll soon discover what you’ve done.”

Doubt flickers in Nadya’s eyes, but she steels herself. ‘Finding Masha’s killer won’t be a priority once you’re gone.” Her voice hardens to ice. “Now, shut up and don’t make any sudden moves.”

With the pistol aimed at my chest, Nadya produces a pair of scissors and cuts the twine binding my ankles and wrists. With the gun still trained on me, she steps back, closely watching as I try to regain movement in my limbs. The shard digs into my palm, but I bite my lip and pray that it doesn’t draw blood.

“Up,” she commands.

I rise slowly, my legs unsteady beneath me. The room spins, a mix of fear and exhaustion clouding my senses.

Nadya gestures with the gun for me to move towards the front door, away from the familiarity of my aunt’s cabin. The cold night air hits me as I step outside into the dark, silent woods. Shivering in a T-shirt and sleep shorts, the pine needles and fallen leaves jab at my bare feet.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, desperate to understand her plan.

She doesn’t bother to answer.

My mind races with every possible scenario playing out, and none of them seem good. I look back at her, but she’s all hard lines and focus. I have no doubt she’ll shoot if I dart into the woods.

At the back of the property, Nadya leads me down an embankment towards the river. It runs fast and deep, not to mention it’s ice-cold this time of year.

Her plan is suddenly crystal clear—she’s going to force me in the water. There’s no better way to make my death look like a suicide.

A sob rips from my chest. Everything about this is twisted. Nadya has convinced Maxim that I’ve left him, and sent him on a wild chase across the city to find me. Meanwhile, in a day or two, they’ll discover my lifeless body in the river.

She’ll get away with murder. Not of me, but of this child.

I can’t leave this earth with Maxim thinking I betrayed him. I won’t let that happen.

I stop and turn towards her, desperation coloring my tone. “Don’t do this. I beg of you, please, don’t do this. There’s another way.”

“Go for a swim, Kira. It’s so easy. Get in the water, and you’ll float downstream.” Her voice sounds like it’s a million miles away.

I drop to my knees, tears pouring down my face. I bow my head as if in solemn prayer and bring my hands together, the shard hidden between my palms. ‘Fine. I will do as you say, but before I go, pray with me. Pray for my soul.’ I’m not a religious person, but she is. ‘Please, Nadya,’ I whisper, “join me.”

She hesitates before slowly stepping closer, her voice a low murmur as she recites a prayer under her breath. Time slows to a crawl and my heart beats wildly, preparing for what’s next.

Her eyes are closed, her expression one of reluctant devotion. I silently edge forward, bridging the gap between us. I tighten my grip on the glass.

It’s now or never.

With a surge of adrenaline, I thrust my arm up, driving the shard deep into Nadya’s neck. Her eyes fly open, one hand grabbing the wound while the other raises her gun. I dodge to the side, losing my balance on the uneven terrain. As a gunshot pierces the night, I fall backwards.

I plunge into the swift currents, landing with a splash. The cold is unlike anything I’ve felt before, a numbing shock to my system. Voices shout in the distance—male, urgent—but in my dazed state, nothing makes sense.

Struggling is no use. My limbs are heavy and uncooperative. Each breath is a battle, and the darkness at the edges of my vision threatens to consume me.

More shouting in the distance, but the world seems so far away.

My last thought is of Maxim and the baby we would have had together. I picture his brutally beautiful face as he holds a sleeping baby to his chest, tenderly singing her a lullaby.

It’s a beautiful image to leave this earth with.