MasukHeros Green
Emotions were running high when we finally reached the building where my brothers were. But before we could do anything, I spotted them. My heart raced at the sight of Luther and Lohan being carried by several men, unconscious, and loaded into a car. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I tried to process what was happening.There they were, and in the background, I could make out a familiar figure—Liora. She was with an older man who looked like a figure of autFaina 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
Liora VossStill with Luther on top of me, I look to the side and see Noah and Heros watching us, seated on the sofa—one masturbating and the other still dressed, though I can see his erection through his expensive linen pants. Luther
Faina PetrovWhile I’m in my room, waiting for the plan I suggested to my father to bring good news and hoping they’re all safe, my mother enters silently and closes the door behind her. The worry in her eyes is evident.
Zedekiah GreenThe low hum of the air conditioning filled the security room, a constant white noise that usually helped me focus. Blue light from the monitors bathed my face as I scanned the feeds from the new warehouses—sensors, camer
Liora VossSomething had changed.The air in the mansion felt heavier, thicker with suspicion. Heros watched me like I was a puzzle he was determined to solve—and break, if necessary. His d







