Page 114 of Bride of Vengeance

"Twins," she says with satisfaction. "I knew it. You were a twin, you know."

"What?"

"Your brother was stillborn. We never told you."

The information hits like a physical blow. "Mamá—"

"These two will be different. Strong like their father, stubborn like their mother. They'll survive anything."

"How do you know?"

"Because they're already survivors. Look what they've been through already, and still they are growing up."

She's right. These babies have survived gunfights, kidnapping, their mother's near-death experiences. They're either incredibly lucky or incredibly tough.

Probably both.

The party continues around us, but I barely notice. My mother is here. My husband is somewhere in this house, probably teaching Boris Spanish curse words. My found family surrounds me with love and acceptance I never expected.

"Gift time!" Mila announces.

The pile is overwhelming. Clothes, toys, things I don't even recognize. But the last gift, the one Mila hands me personally, is small.

"From Mikhail," she says with a knowing smile.

Inside the box are two things: a tiny pair of baby shoes, so small they fit in my palm, and a note.

For our little wolves. May they run fast, fight hard, and always find their way home. Love, Papa

I'm crying again. Stupid hormones.

"He's going to be a good father," my mother says, reading over my shoulder.

"How do you know?"

"Because he chose to be. Men who choose fatherhood rather than having it forced on them—those are the ones who excel."

Later, after most of the guests have gone home, I find Mikhail in the living room with my mother and Mila. They're speaking in a mix of English and Spanish, my mother teaching Mikhail how to properly pronounce "Alejandro" while Mila laughs at his attempts.

"There you are," I say, lowering myself carefully onto the couch.

"Mija, your husband was just trying to speak Spanish with me," my mother says, smiling. "He's getting better."

"Barely," Mikhail admits. Then he looks at me with an expression I can't read. "Actually, while your mother is here, there's something I need to do."

"Now?" I ask, confused.

He looks nervous suddenly—this man who faced down Pavel Volkov without flinching is nervous about talking to me in front of my mother.

"Mikhail?"

He takes a deep breath, then drops to one knee right there in Mila's living room. My mother gasps, pressing her hands to her chest.

"Mariana," he begins, pulling out a small velvet box. "I did this all wrong. I married you without asking your mother's blessing. Without giving you a proper proposal. Without proving to your family that I'm worthy of you."

"Mikhail—"

"Your mother should have been there from the beginning. Should have seen me promise to love and protect you. Should have heard me vow to be the man you deserve." He opens the box, revealing a stunning ring—a ruby surrounded by diamonds. "So I'm asking now, in front of her, with my family as witness—will you marry me? Again? The right way this time?"