Page 147 of Secret Heir
Nikolai stands before the twelve council members. “Alexander Mikhailovich Morozov has confessed to all charges. Treason against the brotherhood. Conspiracy with enemy organizations. Attempted murder of brotherhood leadership. Murder of brotherhood members. Attempted murder of a child. Embezzlement.” He pins Alexander with a cold stare. “Fifteen years of betrayal.”
He pauses, letting it sink in.
“The sentence for treason is death. The method is our choice.” Nikolai’s voice is hard as iron. “I vote for a bullet to the head. It’s more mercy than he deserves.”
The council members nod. One by one, they voice their agreement.
“Alexander Mikhailovich Morozov,” Nikolai says formally. “You are sentenced to death for crimes against the brotherhood. Your sentence will be carried out immediately. Do you have any last words?”
Alexander starts laughing and the hairs on the back of my neck rise again. It’s a terrible sound—high and manic and wrong.
“You’re all so stupid,” he says between laughs. “So fucking stupid. You think this ends with me? You think killing me solves anything?”
“Your conspiracy dies with you,” Nikolai says coldly.
“My conspiracy?” Alexander’s eyes are wild. “I told you—I have people embedded everywhere. Other Bratva families. Other organizations. People you’ll never find. And they know what to do if I die.”
“You’re lying,” I snap, but doubt creeps in.
“Am I?” His grin is manic. “Powerful people are coming for you. For all of you. The Santoros. The Brennans. The Sokolovs. All of you. My partners—they’re coming. And they won’t stop until everyone you love is dead.”
Nikolai signals to Dmitri. “Enough. Execute him.”
Dmitri raises his gun and presses it to the back of Alexander’s head.
“You’ll all burn,” Alexander says, still grinning. “Every last one of you will—”
The gunshot cuts him off.
Alexander’s body jerks forward then collapses to the floor. Blood pools around his head, spreading across the hardwood.
I stare at the corpse of the man who tried to kill my son and terrorized my family for months. I feel nothing but relief and a grim satisfaction that he’s finally dead.
The threat is over.
Suddenly, Nikolai’s phone rings, startling everyone. My brother fishes it from his pocket and frowns. He opens the message and his face goes white.
“What is it?” I ask, my heart thumping erratically.
Nikolai turns the phone so I can see. It’s a text message from an unknown number:
“Alexander Morozov’s death will not go unanswered. We’re coming for your families. The Corsicans never forget.”
Everyone in the room goes tense.
Alexander wasn’t lying, and his partners are coming for revenge.
22
MAKSIM
It’s been a month since Alexander’s execution, and I’ve taken Aria and Daniel back to the Hamptons estate. The immediate threat is over. Alexander is dead and his network is dismantled.
But the Corsican warning hangs over us like a storm cloud that refuses to break.
“Alexander Morozov’s death will not go unanswered. We’re coming for your families. The Corsicans never forget.”
Nikolai has increased security across all Bratva operations—doubling guards, installing new surveillance systems, and vetting every single person who has access to family members or key facilities. He’s preparing for war.
