Page 180

Story: Taken

This is peace.
For the first time in years, this house—built purely by blood, power, and violence—feels like a home.
I step towards their room, drawn by the soft mummers inside.
The door is slightly ajar, and from the hallway, I can see both of my sons.
Mikhail is in front of Chiara, and Nikolai is beside her.
And in Chiara’s arms, wrapped in a delicate white blanket, rests my granddaughter.
How beautiful.
My chest tightens with every step that I take, memories of my own daughter coming to mind.
I force them out to focus on the present as I watch my two sons glancing down at the baby they helped create like she’s the most precious thing in the world.
And in a sense, she is.
Just as my daughter is my world, their daughter is theirs.
Nikolai is the first to sense me.
His sharp blue eyes flicker up, meeting mine through the dim light of the room.
There’s no warning in his expression, no hardness—just acceptance.
A silent invitation.
I step into the room to join them all.
Chiara’s tired eyes lift to meet mine, and she smiles at me.
Soft.
Content.
Completely at ease.
“Come meet your granddaughter.”
She murmurs, standing up slowly as I move forward, my steps slow, and careful too.
Both my sons help Chiara, and they move to stand on either side of her, and their baby.
My chest swells with pride.
I stare down at the tiny, sleeping girl in her arms, finding myself smiling softly at the content expression on her little face.
She’s so small.
Her lashes flutter as she stirs slightly in her mother’s hold.
For a moment, I don’t move.
Ican’tmove.
I’ve seen a lot in my life.

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