ログインNoah Green
After sharing the dark memories of my childhood with Liora, something shifted between us.
I hadn’t planned to tell her about the streets—the hunger, the cold nights curled in cardboard boxes, the way people looked at me like I was less than human. But the way she listened, without pity, just quiet understanding… It loosened something I had kept locked away for ye
Faina GreenThere were moments when I simply observed.Not as a wife, not as a mother, but as someone still amazed by the miracle of having five very different men living in absolute harmony for me—and for each other.It was a quiet night. The triplets were already asleep. I was wrapped in a light robe, sitting on the living room sofa with a glass of wine in my hand. The five were scattered around me, each in their own rhythm, but always connected.Heros occupied the main armchair, as always. The natural king. He flipped through reports on his tablet, but his free hand rested possessively on my thigh. Even when he didn’t speak, his presence commanded the room. He was the balance—the one who decided when things got tense, the one who imposed order when the others got heated.Beside him, Luther was sprawled on the sofa, his head in my lap. The most obsessive, the most intense. He t
Faina GreenMarco Rossi’s fall was like a stone thrown into a still lake—the ripples spread fast and violently.In less than 72 hours, his empire collapsed. Three of his main allies in Chicago publicly declared loyalty to the ‘Ndrangheta under Heros’s command. Two casinos were shut down by the police after anonymous tips (courtesy of Noah). His remaining accounts were frozen or drained. And most importantly: the video of Marco’s humiliating confession circulated discreetly among the ‘Ndrangheta families, serving as a clear warning.“Don’t threaten the queen."At the mansion, the mood was one of restrained victory. We celebrated quietly, but deeply.It was a warm autumn night. The triplets were sleepi
Faina GreenThe hunt for Marco Rossi lasted six endless days and six endless nights.Every hour was slow torture. I barely slept. During the day I stayed with the triplets, trying to memorize every smile, every laugh, every chubby little hand gripping my finger, as if I feared something could take them from me. At night, I went down to the war room and became someone else — the cold, calculating, and merciless Pakhan the world needed to see.Heros never left my side. Luther barely slept, pacing like a caged animal. Noah lived buried in screens, tracking every movement, every call, and every cent Marco tried to hide. Lohan, still with his shoulder bandaged, refused to stay out of it. Zedekiah… Zedekiah was the quietest of all, but his eyes gleamed with a dark promise every time Marco’s name was mentioned.
Faina GreenSoft morning light filtered through the windows of the family living room. After a nearly sleepless night, I had insisted on spending the entire morning with the triplets. They were my center. The reason for everything.Darya was in my lap, trying to stuff my hair into her mouth while laughing. Vasily crawled between Luther’s legs, clapping every time he managed to touch his father’s foot. Yakov slept peacefully on Heros’s chest while he slowly stroked the baby’s back with protective movements.“They have no idea what happened yesterday,” I murmured, kissing the top of Darya’s head.Lohan, with his shoulder bandaged and arm in a sling, sat carefully beside me. Despite the pain, he smiled as he watched Vasily try to climb his leg.
Faina GreenThe calm lasted exactly eleven days.Eleven days of relative peace—babies growing, hot nights in my husband's arms, virtual meetings with the Moscow council running surprisingly smoothly after Viktor’s fall.Then hell came knocking again.It was a rainy autumn afternoon when Heros entered the nursery with a grim expression. I was breastfeeding Darya while Vasily and Yakov played on the rug.“We need to go downstairs,” he said quietly. “Now.”I left the babies with the trusted nanny and followed him down to the war room. Luther, Noah, Lohan, and Zedekiah were already there, their faces grave.Heros turned on the projector.A photo appeared on the screen: a man around forty, dangerously handsome, with neatly cut black hair, cold green
Faina GreenThe interrogation room in the mansion’s basement was white, cold, and impersonal. No windows. No sound. Just a metal chair bolted to the floor, a small table, and harsh fluorescent lights that left no shadows.Viktor Kuznetsov was handcuffed to the chair, his shirt torn, his face swollen from the transport. Dried blood at the corner of his mouth. Still, when he saw me enter accompanied by the five, he managed a crooked, defiant smile.“Came to watch the show, little girl?”Heros closed the door behind us with a metallic click that echoed like a death sentence.I sat in the chair across from him, crossing my legs. My voice came out low, almost gentle:“You threatened
Faina PetrovWe came to the cabin since our house is now just charred rubble. Noah led us through an emergency entrance, well hidden in the backyard grass of the destroyed house. Seeing everything in ruins caused a deep pain in my chest.We decided to bring my father with his ey
Faina PetrovAs soon as we left the hospital, our first stop was the warehouse where my father remained tied up for over twelve hours. The sight of him in that condition is painful; my heart tightens as I cross the entrance. The moment my feet touch the warehouse floor, his voice tears t
Luther GreenWe pace back and forth in the emergency area outside the hospital, an anxious group seeking any news that might bring relief. Tension hangs in the air, almost palpable, as we try to face the anguish of uncertainty. Faina and our babies. I hope everything is okay and that we
Heros GreenI’m on my knees in front of that damn Petrov, the weight of despair and battle accumulating in my body. Luther lies fallen beside me, and the situation unfolds like a nightmare. Luther had asked me not to kill him when we first spotted him—because of Faina







