Page 116 of Unbroken

Concrete beneath bare feet. Wind tugging at the hem of the shirt I stole from him again. My pulse still hasn’t calmed down—not since the test. Not since I said the words out loud. Not since he fucked me boneless.

It’s positive.

And he held me like I wasn’t a mistake.

Now I can’t sleep, not with the weight of everything bearing down on me.

I find him where I knew he’d be—on the roof. Silent. Still. A sniper rifle rests across his lap like a sleeping beast. His eyes are on the dark tree line beyond the estate walls. He doesn’t flinch when I come up behind him.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he says.

I wrap my arms around myself. “So are you.”

He doesn’t turn. Just pats the ledge beside him. I sit.

Quiet stretches between us.

“I didn’t think this would be my life,” I murmur. “This—hunted. Pregnant.” I wink at him. “Wrapped up in a Bratva god’s war plans.”

“You’re not wrapped up in it,” he says. “You’re at the center of it now.”

That makes me laugh, bitter and small.

“I didn’t want to matter this much.”

His head turns just slightly, enough for me to see the muscle ticking in his jaw.

“You always did. Remember what Mariah used to tell you, Ruthie. Don’t make yourself small for anyone. Not me, not even yourself.”

I nod. He’s right. I know he is.

We sit in silence again, and I lay my head on his shoulder. I like how it feels sitting with him like this.

Then, like a live wire?—

“I’m scared,” I whisper.

“Good.” He finally looks at me. “That means you understand the stakes.”

I meet his gaze. “And if I run?”

“I’ll find you.” He says it without heat. Without threat. Just fact. “But I don’t think you will.”

“Why not?”

He studies me for a long time. Then, “Because for the first time in your life, you’ve got something to protect that’s bigger than your fear.”

I look down at my hands, curled around the faint swell of my belly.

My throat closes. The wind moves between us, but he’s warm beside me. Solid.

So I lean in. Instinctively, his arm comes around my shoulders. And for a moment, the war doesn’t matter.

We sit like that until the sky turns gray.

I lie curled beside Vadka, more at peace than I have ever been in my life. His warmth seeps into my skin, calming the chaos in my veins, and for a moment, it feels like maybe—just maybe—we're safe. But I know it won't last. It can’t. Not with the hounds of hell snapping at our heels. He says we’re at war, but what does that even mean? What does war look like in this world?

I’ve lived close enough to this world that I thought I understood it. I told myself I knew what it was to be part of something dark, something brutal. But I was wrong. I didn’t know. I still don’t.