Page 43 of Betrayal and Vows (Bratva Vows #2)

"He needs to stay innocent as long as possible," Elena counters, then looks directly at me. "That's what his father is working so hard to ensure."

The pointed comment isn't lost on anyone.

Elena knows exactly what I've been doing this past year, the careful balance I've struck between power and family. She doesn't approve, but she understands.

"I'm doing what I have to do to keep them safe," I say quietly.

"I know you are." Her expression softens as she bounces Alexei in her arms. "Your mother would be proud of the father you've become. The man you've become."

The mention of my mother still hits hard sometimes.

I wish she could have met Lena, could have held her grandson.

But in some ways, Elena has filled that void, becoming the mother figure I never had and the grandmother Alexei deserves.

"She would have loved him," I say, watching Alexei grab at Elena's necklace with chubby fingers.

"She would have loved all of this," Elena replies.

"Speaking of babies," Lena says suddenly, her voice carrying a strange note that makes me look up from where I'm watching Alexei play with Elena's bracelet. "I have an announcement."

The way she says it immediately puts me on alert. Lena is never nervous about anything. She faced down armed men without flinching, but now she's fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth.

"What kind of announcement?" I ask, though something in my gut already knows.

She takes a deep breath, her cheeks flushing pink. "I'm pregnant. Again."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I stare at her for a long moment, then automatically look down at Alexei, who's happily drooling on Elena's jewelry, completely oblivious to the bombshell his mother just dropped.

"How?" I blurt out, then immediately feel stupid for asking.

The table erupts in laughter. Dmitri nearly spills his water, Elena covers her mouth with her free hand, and even Lena is giggling despite her obvious nerves about my reaction.

"Would you like me to explain the process to you?" Dmitri offers with a wicked grin. "I thought you might have figured it out by now, considering the evidence sitting right here."

I frown at him, then turn back to Lena. "I thought the doctor said you couldn't get pregnant while breastfeeding."

Elena laughs so hard she has to wipe tears from her eyes. "Oh, my dear boy. That is absolutely not true. Where on earth did you get that idea?"

"I read it somewhere," I mutter, feeling heat creep up my neck. For someone who's supposedly intelligent enough to run a criminal empire, I apparently know nothing about female biology.

"That's an old wives' tale," Elena continues, still chuckling. "Breastfeeding can delay ovulation, but it's not birth control. Clearly." She bounces Alexei gently. "Are you two trying to repopulate Russia single-handedly? This little one isn't even walking yet."

I look at Lena, really look at her, searching for signs I somehow missed. Now that I know what to look for, I can see the subtle changes—the slight fullness to her face, the way she's been more tired lately, how she pushed her coffee away this morning claiming it tasted off.

"How far along?" I ask quietly.

"Eight weeks," she says, her eyes uncertain as they meet mine. "I wanted to be sure before I told anyone. I know we didn't plan this so soon after Alexei?—"

I'm out of my chair and pulling her into my arms before she can finish the sentence. I can't believe I'm lucky enough to have this again—another child, another piece of our future growing inside her.

"Are you happy?" she whispers against my ear.

"Happy?" I pull back to look at her face. "Lena, I'm over the moon. Another baby. Our baby."

Relief floods her features. "I was worried you'd think it was too soon, with everything going on?—"

"It's perfect," I interrupt, pressing my forehead to hers. "You're perfect. This is perfect."

"Two under two," Dmitri observes, shaking his head in amazement. "You don't do anything halfway, do you?"

"The Malikov family is officially expanding," Elena says, kissing Alexei's forehead. "This little one is going to be a big brother."

I sit back down, pulling Lena onto my lap despite her protests about being too heavy. She settles against me. I rest my hand on her still-flat stomach. Somewhere in there, another life is beginning. Another perfect combination of her and me.

"Irish twins," I say, thinking about the timing. "Alexei will be barely fifteen months old when this one arrives."

"God help us all," Elena mutters, but she's smiling. "I hope you're prepared for chaos."

"I don't think it's a terrible idea," I say, my hand spreading protectively over Lena's middle. "Repopulating the world with our babies, I mean. They'll be close in age, grow up together. Best friends, like Dmitri and I were."

"Except hopefully with less violence and property destruction," Lena adds dryly.

"Hey," Dmitri protests. "That fire was an accident. Mostly."

I'm already thinking ahead—another crib in the nursery, double the midnight feedings, two children to protect and love and worry about. The logistics are daunting, but the joy overwhelms everything else.

"Boy or girl this time?" I ask, though I know it's too early to tell.

"Too soon to know," Lena confirms. "But Dmitri will probably have strong opinions regardless."

"Obviously, it's another boy," Dmitri declares with absolute certainty. "You're building a dynasty, Anton. An empire needs heirs."

"Maybe it's a girl this time," Elena counters. "A little princess to balance out all this testosterone."

I don't care either way. Boy or girl, this child will be loved, protected, cherished. They'll grow up knowing they're wanted, knowing they're safe. Everything I never had.

"So that means our new little one will be here…” I trail off as I try to do the math.

"Late spring," Lena says. "Around May."

"Perfect timing," I murmur, already imagining warm weather and a newborn, Alexei toddling around the garden while his little sibling sleeps in the sunshine.

The future I'm building suddenly feels more important than ever. Not just one child to protect now, but two. A whole generation depending on the choices I make today.

I pull Lena closer, breathing in the scent of her hair. This is what I'm fighting for. This perfect, chaotic, beautiful life we've created together.

"I love you," I whisper against her temple.

"I love you too," she replies, then adds with a laugh, "But we're definitely having a serious conversation about birth control after this one."

"We'll see," I say, and I'm only half joking.

After all, we are building a dynasty.

I watch the sun set over our estate as Lena dozes against my chest, one hand resting on her growing belly, the other holding our sleeping son.

Dmitri has gone back to the city to handle whatever crisis needs my attention this week.

Elena is in the kitchen, probably preparing enough food to feed an army because she's convinced we're all too thin.

The sound of her humming drifts through the open windows, mixing with the evening breeze and the distant lowing of cattle from the neighboring farm.

This is peace. This is what I killed for, died for, clawed my way out of hell to find.

My phone buzzes with a text from Dmitri. Kozlov situation resolved permanently. Sleep well, brother.

I delete the message without responding and silence the phone. Tomorrow I'll return to being the Pakhan, making decisions that determine who lives and dies in Moscow's underworld. But tonight, I'm just a man holding his family as twilight settles over our little kingdom.

Alexei stirs in his sleep, his tiny fist uncurling to grasp my finger with surprising strength.

Already so determined, so fierce. When he's older, I'll tell him stories about his grandmother Irina. I’ll tell him all about her courage and her songs.

I'll teach him that strength isn't just about violence—it's about protecting what matters most.

And when our new baby arrives, I'll hold them both and tell them about the family they come from.

The good parts. The love stories and the sacrifices made for family.

The way their mother fought like a lioness to protect what was hers.

The way their father learned that being truly strong meant knowing when not to fight.

Lena shifts in my arms, her breathing deep and even.

She's always been beautiful, but pregnancy gives her this ethereal glow that takes my breath away.

Even exhausted, even with Alexei's spit-up on her shirt and dirt under her fingernails from the garden, she's the most magnificent thing I've ever seen.

"What are you thinking about?" she murmurs without opening her eyes.

"You. The babies. How I got so lucky."

"Luck had nothing to do with it." She tilts her head to look at me. "We fought for this. We chose each other every single day, even when it would have been easier to walk away."

She's right. This life wasn't given to us—we carved it out of blood and chaos, piece by piece. Every peaceful moment was paid for with violence.

I should feel guilty about that. Should be haunted by the bodies we left in our wake.

Instead, I feel only gratitude.

We were forged in fire.

Together, we are unbreakable.