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FLASHBACK 7
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2026-05-25 23:55:57
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MY TABOO STEP DADDY FLASHBACK 9
[TRISTAN’S POV] [FLASHBACK — ONE YEAR LATER.]"A hookup?!"Yosef's voice bounces off the walls of the hallway like a grenade with no pin. I don't look up from the mirror. Just straighten my collar, tuck the cigar between my lips, and let him combust."Do you have a problem with that," I say.Not a question. Never a question with Yosef.He steps into the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight, wearing the specific expression of a man who wants to say fifteen things and knows he's only permitted to say one. His green eyes cut to the mirror, to my reflection, then away. That familiar hunger he thinks he hides.He hides nothing."He's practically family," Yosef says. "That's what you're not getting. This isn't some civilian, Tristan. This is—""My business.""It's insane is what it is."Amanda appears behind him. Seventeen years old and already capable of a glare that could strip paint. She has her mother's eyes and her mother's talent for making a man feel approximately two inches tall withou
MY TABOO STEP DADDY FLASHBACK 8
[TRISTAN'S POV ]THE STALKERThree months.Ninety-four days of sitting in this car. Watching. Waiting. Restraining every violent, possessive instinct that screams at me to take what's mine.The leather seat creaks as I shift. My back aches from hours of stillness. The windows are tinted dark enough that no one can see in, but I see everything.The university sprawls before me. Red brick buildings. Manicured lawns. Students scattered across the quad like ants, oblivious to the predator parked at the edge of their safe little world.I shouldn't be here.I have an empire to run. Territories to manage. Enemies to eliminate. A daughter at home who thinks her father is on a business trip.But I can't stay away. Not from him.There.Under the oak tree, third bench from the left.He sits with his back against the trunk, one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee. A textbook rests in his lap, but he's not reading it. Just staring at nothing, lost in whatever thoughts occupy that beautif
MY TABOO STEP DADDY FLASHBACK 7
[TRISTAN’S POV][MOSCOW. TWO MONTHS AFTER AURORA DEATH] The drive back takes forty minutes.I spend it with my hand on the window and someone's blood drying under my fingernails and the particular emptiness that comes after a night of doing necessary things. The city moves past the glass, lit orange and grey, Moscow at two in the morning doing what Moscow does, surviving itself.Petrov is dead. His two lieutenants too. It took four hours to get the information I needed and another twenty minutes to finish what the information started. I went alone because I needed to go alone, because some nights the only thing that cuts through grief is work, and the work tonight was the kind that requires no witnesses.Brain matter dried on my left shoe somewhere around midnight. I noticed it and didn't care.I smell like blood and whiskey and the particular smoke of a building I set on fire on my way out.Two months.Two months since Aurora, and I have not slept a full night or eaten a full meal o
MY TABOO STEP DADDY FLASHBACK 6
[TRISTAN’S POV] AURORA’S FUNERAL—MOSCOW, RUSSIA. It rains the way Moscow always rains in grief. Like the city knew before we did.Heavy and colorless, drumming against the black umbrellas, running in cold threads down the necks of men who don't flinch at bullets but stand very still in the rain because there is nothing else to do. Sixteen of them in Armani. Not a single face dry. Not from tears. Just rain.I tell myself that.The coffin is white birchwood with brass handles, her choice, she picked it years ago the way practical women pick things, efficiently and without sentiment. White for Aurora. Everything else in her life was black and iron and blood, so she wanted white at the end. I remember thinking she was being morbid when she told me.I didn't argue.I never argued with her about the things that mattered.Mafioso from four families have come. Sokolov from St. Petersburg, Renner's man from Berlin, two of the Chechen bosses who hated her and respected her in equal measure. T
MY TABOO STEP DADDY FLASHBACK 5
[TRISTAN’S POV] The mannequin's head is gone.Has been gone for eleven rounds. I keep shooting anyway, putting bullets into the empty metal pole where the skull used to be, the sound cracking off the concrete walls of the range like something trying to escape.Brass casings litter the floor around my feet. The air smells like gunpowder and rubber and the particular sweat of men who have been standing too still for too long, pretending not to watch me.I put three more into the pole."Tristan."I put two more."Tristan!"Aurora's hand comes over mine and wrenches the gun down. She is not gentle about it. She never is. She takes the Glock from my grip with the efficiency of a woman who has been handling weapons longer than most men in this room have been alive, drops the magazine, racks the slide, and sets it on the table beside us like she's putting a child to bed.Then she turns and looks at the men.One word in Russian. Out.They go. Sixteen men in black filing through the range doo
MY TABOO STEP DADDY FLASHBACK 4
WEEKS LATER[TRISTAN’S POV] Aurora's study smells like her. Jasmine and ink and that particular cold that clings to women who have never needed warming.I sit behind her desk because someone has to. She left for the Maldives today, a weapons negotiation that required her face and her signature and her particular talent for smiling at men she intends to kill. She trusted me with the Brotherhood's paperwork in her absence, which means she trusts me with her empire, which means I am signing documents at midnight while my daughter sleeps two floors above me and Moscow freezes solid outside the window.I don't mind the work. I prefer it to thinking.The door opens quietly.Yosef closes it behind him. No knock. Yosef never knocks in rooms he considers his, and he considers every room his.He looks well.That is the first thing I notice. Not pale, not weak, no shadows under his eyes from three days of reported fever. He drops into the chair across the desk with the loose ease of a man who h
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