It started with a simple mistake.
A knock on the wrong door.
If we were better men, wed have turned her away.
But were not.
As Russian Bratva brothers, we had no business pursuing a naive librarian like Lyric.
She’s innocent. Pure. Gentle.
Were ruthless bastards who take what we want.
And we took her innocence.
Watched her tremble. Heard her beg for more.
But once wasn’t enough.
We’re obsessed with her sweetness, her purity.
She doesn’t belong in our world, but it’s too late.
She’s ours now, and we’re not letting go.
Not her. Not the baby growing inside her.
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