Chapter 436: Scars Of Combat And Whispers Of Affection

[FROLO]

Frolo was still busy at two o’clock in the morning when eleven phones pinged at the same time.

It was unexpected.

So very unexpected, even though they had all been waiting.

They knew the call could come, but they didn’t know it would come as a text with a location neither of them had ever been to. Not to mention how detached the message before the coordinates was.

Maybe life was changing for the better because after all that the day had given them, surely there had to be more that would be worth fighting for, right?

The eleven converged at their familiar gate and drove off to the new location, like staying and reaching out at different times would change the course of their lives.

Inside, they had stayed silent, each to their thoughts, wondering what could have happened to warrant such emergency messages. But maybe it wasn’t going to be as bad, right?

The city was still blooming under the night sky. Women and men were still working. Others were having the time of their lives, a culture that was not new to Frolo.

But even as they drove, the anxiety was still there for them all.

Forty-five minutes later, they reached their destination, and not even the moon goddess could have predicted for them what they got to see there.

The universe itself would probably wish to have an undo button for it all, but it was happening, wasn’t it?

"No," one man breathed in pain, like the sight itself was something he would pay an entire lifetime not to give up.

No one else let out a word. Because they knew what this looked like.

Four of the eleven were still confused, worried, obviously, but still not understanding the look of pure horror on the faces of the seven.

Sure, they had not expected what they were seeing, but damn, was it not something that warranted the reactions.

Or did it?

"Father? You got... a haircut? The Frolo cold will have you regretting this, soon," Yaroslav broke the silence, stepping forward to his father, who was still holding the hotpot in his hand.

But he looked different.

Gods, he was different, and the other seven knew it so well.

Over the years, they had hoped to never see this side again, but the hair they were.

"And you got new ink?" Yaroslav said, marveling at the thick arms that his father always had.

Sergei had always had a tattoo of young Yaroslav’s face on his left arm, a reminder of what he was fighting for and what kept him sane on most days.

His child. His dear boy.

But today, there was new ink.

On his right arm.

Not as big as the face of the child, but small enough to just know why things had changed so much for him.

It was a heart tattoo with today’s date in it, and a blooming citrus with a clipped fruit on the side.

To anyone, it looked so simple. Like it was just another addition to the ink of the Devil of Frolo’s body. Only that Sergei never loved tattoos. All his six tattoos had meanings.

And with this seventh one, it wasn’t a long shot to assume what had happened.

"What happened to Romanov, Sergei?" Anya spoke when no one said another word.

Even Sergei hadn’t spoken.

He was just staring at his hotpot apologetically, like he was trying to hold something. Anything, and he wasn’t even succeeding again.

"Have a seat," Sergei said, his voice blank and devoid of emotion.

Yaroslav still stared at the tattoos, and while he knew why they were related to Katya, he couldn’t help but be in awe of them.

Gods, they were pretty.

His father had him on one arm and his beloved on the other. What a complete family.

"The Hercules operation is over, effective immediately," Sergei said, with finality, leaving no room for discussion. It was a statement that he was not about to change anytime soon.

"Irina, the chairman position at Moskowsky Holdings is open. You can take it... or not," Sergei said, and everyone stiffened.

Chairman position?

Wasn’t Sergei the chairman?

This didn’t look good.

Still, they waited to see what this was about.

"Svetlana and Andre, with the Hercules operation done, you can work in Romanov Steel or Moskowsky Holdings. Whichever position you want, you’ll have it. Anya will make the final decision," the alpha said, still as cold.

No one protested.

Maybe because of the shock of what was happening.

Or maybe because they had never seen this version of Sergei.

The man who had cut all his hair and was barely a few millimeters from being bald.

"Rahim, Volkov. Your job description hasn’t changed. The office secretary assignment is over. Clean your gear; we have work to do," he said to the secretaries who stared in silence.

"Myrtles, it’s time," Sergei said, and they all just nodded in quiet.

"What about me, father?" Yaroslav asked, and Sergei’s eyes softened.

His cold demeanor broke, and he was suddenly just...

Dad...

Again.

And Yaroslav knew what that meant.

"No... Absolutely not, father. You can’t do this to me. I’m supposed to protect you too," Yaroslav said, getting up.

"Sit with me, my dear boy," Sergei said, and the rest of the crew looked at each other skeptically, unsure of whether they were to leave. But Sergei just shook his head as if to tell them that this wouldn’t take long.

Yaroslav, on the other hand, was not giving in.

"I can’t... I can’t lose you too, father," Yaroslav said, his voice shaking.

"You won’t, son. You’ll never lose me. I’m your father before anything else, my dear boy. Come sit with me, please," Sergei said.

Svet and Andre stared like they were seeing a foreign version of Sergei Moskowsky.

Sure, they had known the man was very protective of his son and had built an entire reputation around it all. But this felt different. It was so domestic for a barbarian like Sergei.

It almost felt like they were watching a normal family.

When Yaro didn’t come to him, Sergei pressed a button on his own watch, and Yaroslav’s watch blinked a bit, making Yaroslav look at his father, sudden tears in his eyes.

It was his father’s way of asking Yaroslav to trust him.

And gods, it wasn’t exactly what Yaroslav wanted to see right now.

But he gave in.

Who was he kidding... He would always give in. Because this was his father. The man he had slowly learned to experience life with. The man who discovered so many firsts with him beside him.

"You’re going back to Knox, Yaro. That is not up for debate," Sergei began, his voice gentle as he held his son’s eye and his hand like a father easing his son into the most unbelievable agreement he was about to make.

But what other choice was there?

"You’ve been away for too long, and as much as I love having you do missions and explore your limits... This time, you will have to sit in an office, sign contracts, and run your business, Sergei added, as if it were that simple for both of them.

"This... This is what Sergei... the man before Vitya and the Moskowsky name... the Devil of Frolo... looks like, my dear boy," Sergei breathed quietly.

"There are some things that I will be doing. Things that will change every perspective you have of me. But even if I am branded the worst of the worst, to you, I will always be just dad, my son.

"I’ll still pick up if you’re having a bad day or if you want to go to lunch. I can’t promise regular lunches, but I can promise to always answer when you call. Always, my sweet child," Sergei continued softly.

"The city... the histories... what you know about your father... you might be forced to set it all aside and see the Devil of Frolo. I’m telling you this to ask for your forgiveness.

"I promised myself I would never introduce you to the real side of the Devil of Frolo, my boy. I promised to make sure your life was not hard and tainted. I wanted you to live a normal life even if the city already called me a criminal.

"That was way better than who you will see from the moment this meeting ends," Sergei said, smiling defeatedly as he stared at the hotpot.

"What happened to Katya, father?"

"They won’t release him. If they were going to, they would have done it before the end of the second hour. But that is okay, because there is no line that Sergei won’t cross.

"I only hope you remember me as your father, even if it hurts. Even if there will be so much shame and history unearthed. I hope you know that I will always, always love you, my son," Sergei said calmly.

Yaroslav tried to argue, but Sergei just pulled him into a hug while they were seated.

"Be good to Anya. You can trust her with everything. I love you, my dear boy," Sergei said, pulling back from the hug.

Turning to Anya...

"You know the protocols... I... I’m sorry I have to leave you, my son a second time... but he’s all I have. And you’re the only one I trust with his safety and his life... so... please, Anya..." Sergei trailed off.

Anya stared softly.

"Go, young master. Go get your beloved back. I’ll take care of the boy," Anya reassured.

And Sergei...

He looked at his son one more time before the Myrtles and the sniper secretaries got up.

"Be happy, my sweet boy." Sergei kissed Yaro’s temple before leaving with the six.

Without the hotpot.

He was no longer Sergei Moskowsky, the tycoon, father, his Solnyshka’s mate, or notorious barbarian.

The man who walked out...

Was Sergei.

The man who existed before love and family turned him into Sergei Moskowsky.

The man with no humanity.