Cars whizzed by on the roads, pedestrians going about their day with high rise infrastructures leering down at their rushing figures. There was one such infrastructure, one of the tallest in the area, whose top floor encased in glass. The sunlight pouring in through the glass illuminated a large and spacious office where two men stood on either side of a mahogany table, peering over a blueprint laid out between them, discussing and making notes about the plans.

One of them stood with his back to the window, sunlight streaming in and casting his figure in a shadow with another standing across from him, scribbling onto a notebook in his hand.

Both of them had been so engrossed in their discussion that they gave a jump when the office doors suddenly burst open, a third man staggering inside. Both men reached for their guns on instinct but relaxed to recognize Tazio's figure hunched in the doorway, breathless and winded from what appeared to be his run here. Seeing his state, both men knew something was wrong.

Piero instantly rolled up the blue print, putting it away while Salvatore gathered his things, ready to leave and knowing that he'd be debriefed of the situation in the car.

Handing his bags to the man in front of him, Salvatore slipped his hands into his slacks pockets and began his way to the door, expecting Tazio to follow.

"I am so sorry..." Tazio choked out, still hunched over and his forearm over his mouth. The Mafia Boss freezing a step behind him at the words. "Salvatore...I am so sorry..."

"They're hurt..." The second-in-command straightened his back to the Mafia Boss who stood waiting for him to tell him who was hurt.

"Who was hurt, Tazio?" The Don asked calmly, looking over his shoulder at the man at his back, watching him turn to face him with an ashen face and trembling lips. "Tell me,"

"Victoria and Demetrio..." He spoke hardly above a whisper, the names tumbling out as he stared down at the floor beneath him, the dark wood being illuminate by the pouring sunlight that felt too sharp on his back with the Mafia Boss before him. "They...Mattia and Tonio were taking them back to the estate from school and this...this car just came out of nowhere and rammed into them and, and, and...I'm so sorry..."

"Does Nicole know?"

"Yes, she's on her way to the hospital as we-"

"-Targeted?"

"-Targe-yes, yes, it was a targeted attack,"

"Have you found the man?"

"Working on it,"

"Let me know the moment you have him," Salvatore commanded and stalked out of his office, taking the elevator down.

Even though it was his personal elevator and bigger than most, the space felt too small, too suffocating as he dug his short clipped nails into his palms, trying to get his mind out of the muddles haze of a parent's anxiety and try and look at this more clearly. Try to figure out who knew about his children's existence, who knew and who would be targeting them.

His children, his baby girl, his princess and his knight in shining armor. His Victoria and his Demetrio. A seven and five year old child, who have done nothing be born to Salvatore's name and reputation.

The realization of them having been in a car crash, and the fear they must have gone through, the trauma of being caught in such an ordeal, the injuries they must have suffered, the pain they must be feeling.

Salvatore knew the way his heart squeezed in his chest and the way his lungs constricted was nothing compared to the pain his children were suffering. His emotional wounds were nothing compared to the physical manifestations of their ordeal. His helplessness to realize that he wasn't there, that he couldn't have helped them. Being unable to protect them from such an attack made him feel inadequate, not worthy of being a Mafia Boss to the biggest crime syndicate, nor to be called 'daddy' by his two beautiful and innocent children.

The fire enflamed him from inside as his body trembled, his vision blurring as a soundless cry escaped him, the sting rippling through his knuckles and into his arm when he drove a fist into the metallic wall of the elevator. Wanting to do nothing more than scream.

Looking up at the display atop the door, the Mafia Boss straightened himself, inhaled deeply and ran a hand through his hair before standing tall the moment the ping sounded. Allowing him to step out of the confines of his own making as he marched across the luxurious marble lobby and towards the Jaguar standing outside the door, ready and waiting for him.

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity. He tried to maintain his composure, tried to plaster on his mask of calm while his heart raced, the sound of his blood rushing deafening him as he tried to keep his breathing even, instinctively wrapping his fingers around the inhaler in his pocket.

He tried to maintain his Mafia Boss demeanor, and tried to fit the pieces together, tried to puzzle it out with the limited information he possessed.

Only a hand full of people knew that he had children.

Has children.

All of them close and intimate friends, and only two names kept flashing before his eyes as to who would have the means and motives to go after his children, but both names didn't fit in with the equation.

His thoughts came to a screeching halt when they pulled up outside the hospital, Salvatore pushing open his door even before the car halted and made his way inside long before his entourage could follow. He didn't wait for the elevator, couldn't, and took the steps two at a time before arriving at the third floor, relieved to see that his preemptive security measures had been put into place and that the staff had been informed of the situation. Instantly being greeted by one of the doctors who bowed his head to the Mafia Boss, ready to inform him of the situation as they walked further onto the floor.

Aleksander yawned behind his hand and trudged out of bed, washing his face before making his way down the stairs. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, blissfully ignorant to the tension in the space around him as he made his way into the kitchen. Greeting the handful of maids with an incoherent mumble and set on making his own breakfast, starting the coffee machine while worked around the kitchen in silence.

Scratching at his nape, he dished up his food and poured his coffee before coming to sit crossed legged on top of the center island, all the maids knowing to keep that space clear of anything since that boy never ate breakfast anywhere other than on top of the counter.

It took the Russian heir three sips of his coffee and four bites of his breakfast to feel the tension in the kitchen like some form of heat suffocating him. His sleep ridden eyes slowly cracked open, looking at the handful of maids through half lidded eyes, watching them each whisper to each other in a flurry and share uncertain glances before their eyes darted to him, all of their conversation seizing to see him watching them over the rim of his mug.

"Vse v poryadke, damy?" He asked them, having gotten a grip on the Russian language. "Everything alright, ladies?"

He watched the women mutter to themselves, their words incomprehensible to him before finally one of them stepped forward, her cheeks flushed and eyes wide and fiddled with her fingers in front of the heir.

"Ser-"

"-Aleksander," He corrected her, not being too fond of formal titles.

"Aleksander," She stammered out, correcting herself and stared at him from below her lashes. "Aleksander, does...does the Italian Boss have deti?"

"Deti?"

"Babies," One of the older women informed him in a thick Russian accent. "Children. Does the Italian Boss have children?"

"Well, most Mafia Bosses do-"

"-No," The older woman stopped him, seeing that he didn't understand what she was asking of him so early in the morning. "Does the Regnante Boss have children?"

Instantly Aleksander straightened, putting his half eaten breakfast and coffee to the side before sliding off the counter to tower before her plump figure.

"Why do you ask, Masha?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Did something happen?"

"We don't..." The younger girl stammered beside the older one. "We not sure...but we heard...we heard that-"

"-We heard Nikolai had the Regnante children killed,"

Aleksander froze at the words, his heart dropping to his feet as his stomach folded in on itself, resisting the urge to throw up the meager portions of breakfast he had just eaten. His world spun around him as he stumbled back. Reaching out to the counter in an effort to regain his bearings but instead he toppled the plate and mug down, shattering the ceramic, the words ringing in his head like an echo.

Victoria...Demetrio...dead...

He couldn't breathe, he could feel the fire burning him, the tears stinging his eyes as he grit his teeth to hear that. His entire body trembling as a sudden rage enveloped him, knowing exactly who did it.

With a rumbling growl he marched out of the kitchen, tearing the gun out of the first man's holster as he loaded the weapon. The guards standing stunned and frozen at the suddenness of the heir.

"You son of a bitch!" Aleksander screamed when he saw Nikoali step towards his office, his weapon outstretched before him and he pulled the trigger. Screaming when the guard grabbed his wrist and aimed the barrel skyward, the bullet hitting the ceiling, before he pried the weapon out of his hands, two other men attempting to restrain his thrashing figure. "You monster! They are children! They are kids!" He thrashed against the guards, wanting to wrap his fingers around the man's neck and squeeze the life out of him, watch the light leave his eyes and feel him try to put up a feeble struggle against his hold, against his rage.

He wanted to murder Nikolai.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Nikoali shrugged and made his way into his office, Aleksander tearing himself out of the men's hold by stomping on one man's foot and whirling around to punch the second in the nose then slam the side of his hand into the third's windpipe, leaving the men groaning and gasping on the floor.

Making his unhindered approach after the Pakhan.

"You had Demetrio and Victoria attacked!" He yelled at the man.

"Oh, so that his fucker's names," Nikolai mused to himself behind the desk. "Nice names,"

"They are children! They have done nothing to you!" Aleksander slammed his hand on top of the wooden table, forcing the contents to rattle as the older man sat unperturbed before him. But he had to admit to himself, that even though his son stood before him in a white t-shirt and plaid trousers and messy hair and wide eyes, he looked dangerous with the wild light his brown orbs held, the way his teeth were gritted and by the harshness of his breath. The man before him exuded danger, and if he hadn't been fighting against his own instincts, Nikolai would have sought safety by now.

"Once again, Aleksander, I don't know what you're talking about-"

"-You had them attacked-!"

"-Oh, you mean, you had them attacked,"

Instantly Aleksander's words froze in his throat. His eyebrows furrowing as his mouth opened and closed soundlessly, his mind unable to comprehend what he had just said.

"What?" The heir found himself speaking the word hardly above a whisper.

"You had them attacked,"

"I would never-!"

"-The man who rammed into their Range Rover would be tortured for information," Nikolai informed and swung in his chair. "And I ensured it that the man be found,"

Salvatore's knuckles turned white as he stood beside Piero, the man whispering into his ear.

"The man will only give one name when asked who ordered the attack,"

"Aleksander Romanov," Piero whispered into his boss's ear, watching the man's composure betray him as his eyes widened and his gaze snapped to the man beside him.

"Of course, the Regnante Boss would confirm the intel by having the money traced," The white haired man chuckled.

Salvatore stood behind Stephen who rapidly tapped away at the keyboard, not tearing his eyes away from the screen, before the device pinged, showing a match. The words on the screen having the Mafia Boss grit his teeth with his eyes blue eyes turning cold.

"That would show that the money came from an offshore account under your name," The Pakhan spoke into the ceiling, a smirk playing at his lips. "And if he hasn't killed the man yet, he would show him a couple of pictures and have him pick out the one of his employer,"

The Regnante Don stood before the bloody and bruised man whose spit was more blood than saliva while he stared at the four pictures before him through a half shut and swollen eye. Pointing to one of them.

"And guess whose picture he would pick out?" Nikolai chuckled at his own ingenious before turning to relish in the pale and wide eyed expression his son's face had adopted.

"You..." Aleksander stammered out. "Salvatore won't believe it. I'll tell him the truth!" He retaliated, straightening himself and began to march towards the doors.

"Oh, now if you try to do that, I'll kill your wife," Nikolai called to his back, watching his son freeze in the middle of the room. "Your precious Sofia is being watched by my men," He cooed and stood from his place, picking up a file before throwing the contents on the floor to show his son the numerous frames housing his wife's features.

"You try to reach out to Salvatore, I'll have her killed. You try to divert the blame, I'll have her killed. You hesitate when he asks you about the attack, I'll have her killed. You try to mislead me in any way, I'll have her killed. You attempt to send a coded message to Salvatore, I'll have her killed." Nikoali informed him, watching the strength leave his son's legs as he collapsed to his knees, staring down at the pictures of his wife with erratic breathing and wide eyes. "In short, you try to do anything other than take responsibility for this kill. I will have her killed." The Russian spoke in his thick accent and made his way over to the fallen figure of his son. Grabbing hold of Aleksander's jaw and digging his short clipped nails into is cheek before turning his head up to meet the Pakhan's murderous gaze.

"The things we do for love,"