Page 24

I find out I’m pregnant on a Tuesday. Maybe that’s too mundane a day for something so colossal, but there it is. The test in my hand confirms what I can hardly wrap my head around.

I’m sitting on the edge of the bathtub in my private bathroom, knees quivering, staring at a tiny plastic stick that changes everything.

My heart pounds like it’s trying to break free from my rib cage.

Two faint pink lines tell me that, despite the war raging around us, a baby is on the way. Our baby—mine and Dimitri’s.

It started with a nagging suspicion a few days ago: the obvious late period coupled with fatigue and a wave of nausea.

I tried blaming it all on my nerves. When those symptoms refused to go away, I confided in Mila, one of the younger maids who’s been assigned to help me with errands.

She’s the only one here who seems to treat me like a friend instead of the boss’s wife.

I asked her to be discreet, and she promised.

She returned from a trip into town late last night, handed me the small box, and whispered, “Good luck.” Now, the proof stares back at me, and I don’t know whether to laugh or scream.

A child changes everything. I have grown fond of Dimitri; somewhere between the forced marriage and the nights we’ve shared, my heart betrayed me. But I hate this environment. The Bratva’s shadow threatens to swallow any chance at a normal life.

The child isn’t even born, and I’m already terrified.

Will it grow up confined the way I have been, moving from guarded hall to guarded hall?

Will it learn that violence is the norm, that bullets and deals and territory define one’s existence?

I swallow the lump in my throat and lean against the sink.

For a second, my vision blurs with tears I refuse to let fall.

No. I won’t let my child endure what I have. I need a plan.

I hide the test in a pouch of toiletries under the bathroom sink. Then I splash water on my face, trying to steady myself. If Dimitri figures out I’m acting strange, he’ll press for answers. And if I tell him, I know exactly what will happen: more guards, more restrictions, more fear.

Yet part of me longs to run straight to him just to see his expression when he finds out.

A baby might be the last thing either of us expected, but it might also be the only untainted thing in this entire war.

I imagine his arms around me, reassuring me.

Then I recall how he’s locked down half the estate to keep me “safe.” He doesn’t trust me enough to walk by a window without having a meltdown.

How will he react if he finds out I’m carrying his heir?

I let out a shaky breath and exit the bathroom. I tiptoe down the corridor, passing one guard who nods at me, and head downstairs, trying to appear casual.

In the main hall, I see a pair of Dimitri’s men with rifles slung across their shoulders, watching every corner.

Their presence reminds me that we’re still on high alert after the suspicious car incident.

My father is out there, plotting. And now, more than ever, I realize I don’t want to raise a child in the crossfire.

I find Dimitri in the study, barking orders into the phone. His gaze darts to me as I approach, and there’s relief in it, perhaps, or something similar. But I also notice the caution. He never stops being the boss, never stops calculating the risks.

He ends the call and sets the phone on the desk. “Everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I force a small smile, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the thousand thoughts swirling in my head.

He eyes me for a moment. “You look…pale.”

I shrug. “Didn’t sleep well.”

“Nightmares?” he asks, stepping closer.

I wish it were just nightmares , I think bitterly. But I just give another shrug. “Something like that.”

He wants to say more, I can tell, but an associate pokes his head in to mention a minor issue with the perimeter patrol. Dimitri glances between me and the door. “I’ll be right there,” he tells the associate, then to me, he says, “We can talk later.”

He brushes his hand along my arm as he moves past. It’s a fleeting touch that makes my pulse jump. Then he’s gone, and I’m alone with the knowledge of what’s growing inside me.

The logical part of me suggests that staying might be a wise choice. Dimitri is powerful. He has resources, men, and money. He can ensure we never want for anything. But that’s the problem. We’ll never want for anything except freedom.

My father used to claim he was protecting me, too, back when he dragged me from hideout to hideout. It’s the same suffocation, just a different man calling the shots. I can’t risk letting my baby grow up in this environment.

My decision solidifies in a single heartbeat. I’m leaving.

I think back to when I stumbled on a staff entrance near the lower level, the one only Irina has a key for. I was determined to get that key and make a break for it, but I let that go once Dimitri and I were married because he started letting me become more involved.

I need to get that key.

Of course, there’s the question of money, identification, and a place to go.

I don’t have all the answers, but I’d rather risk the unknown than wait for my father to attack or for Dimitri to smother me further.

My heart aches at the thought of leaving Dimitri behind.

I do care for him, but that doesn’t mean I chain myself to a man who sees me as a porcelain figure he must shield at all costs

I make my way to the kitchen, where I hang back and keep out of sight. Irina moves around the counters, focused on prepping the bread for dinner. Her keyring hangs from her pocket, jiggling with every step she takes.

She mutters something under her breath as she kneads dough, then stops to stretch her back. With a tired sigh, she tugs the key ring free and tosses it onto the counter beside the sink before grabbing a pitcher of water.

There.

I move fast and glide across the tiled floor before my nerves can talk me out of it. The keys are cold in my hand, heavy with the weight of what I’m about to do. I slip them into the pocket of my sweater and pivot back toward the pantry like I was never here.

My pulse pounds as I move through the halls, past the guards who have no idea I’m about to vanish from under their noses.

My heart races when I reach the service corridor. The staff entrance is ahead, just past the storage room. I press myself into the shadows, listening for movement. Nothing.

I pull out the key ring, shaking as I fumble through the keys and try one, then another.

Click .

The lock disengages. I push the door open just wide enough to slip through and step into the evening night air.

Freedom.

A rush of exhilaration floods through me. I made it. I actually made it. I swallow past the lump in my throat and move quickly, sticking to the shadows along the estate’s outer wall. I’m not free yet. I need distance before anyone notices I’m gone.

A car engine rumbles in the distance, but I keep moving. The alley ahead is my best option. If I make it there, I can disappear into the night and find my way out of the city before Dimitri realizes I’m missing. I just need to—

A hand clamps over my mouth.

My scream dies in my throat as an arm wraps around my waist, dragging me back against a solid chest. I thrash, kicking out, clawing at the grip that locks me in place.

A voice whispers against my ear, low and vicious. “Gotcha.”

I freeze.

I know that voice.

My father’s men have found me.