Page 30 of Forced & Pregnant Bratva Bride (Tarasov Bratva #13)

I stepped into the shower, each footfall heavy with exhaustion. My entire body ached, and my hands trembled when I reached out to turn the knob. The scent of blood and gunpowder lingered on me like a second skin—the blood of my enemies, not mine.

For a moment, I just stood there under the water, eyes closed, head bowed with my chin on my chest. My heart was racing like a galloping horse, even after the brief conversation I’d had with my husband. His words helped calm me down just a minute ago.

But now, alone with my thoughts, the horror of what I’d done came rushing back all at once. The water was warm on my skin, blood blooming across the white tiles in thin red streams, swirling down the drain.

The water could wash the blood and sweat and dirt from my body, but it couldn’t wash away what I’d done—couldn’t erase the woman I’d become.

A killer.

Images of Aleksei’s face flashed in my mind, his agonized grunts echoing in my head.

He left me with no choice. That’s what I kept telling myself in order to justify the way he drove that knife into his neck multiple times. I stabbed him in the same spot over and over and over again. I didn’t stop—couldn’t stop.

I liked it.

It was embarrassing and scary as hell, but it was the truth. I didn’t stop driving that blade into his flesh because a part of me liked it; it was vengeance for what his men had done to Egor. Even when his blood, warm and thick, splattered on my face, I didn’t stop.

It was as though I was possessed by a vengeful spirit—like something else, something primal, had control of me. I couldn’t recognize myself in the process. All I could think of was how I never wanted him to hurt anyone ever again. Not me, not Egor, not Emmy. No one else.

I’d never been so angry in my life, and when I yelled, chunks of his blood and flesh flew into my mouth. Yet, I didn’t care. I just wanted him dead.

The bastard was stronger than I thought.

So strong that even after driving that knife in his neck almost seven times, he still managed to push me off him.

I fell to the ground belly first, and I felt the pain surge through me like electricity.

I didn’t think about myself. No. It was the baby I was worried about at that moment.

While all of this was going on in the drawing room, Grigory, Simon, and the others already had their hands full fighting against Aleksei’s men. It was a war zone in there—bullets flying, men yelling, grunting.

A pipe in the wall had broken, and water pooled across the floor, making it treacherously slippery. The air was filled with a battle cry, mixing with the scent of sweat, smoke, and gunpowder.

What we didn’t anticipate was the explosion, the one that drilled a hole in the roof. It turned out that one of Aleksei’s men had barged in with an RPG. Simon was quick enough to pull his trigger the moment he spotted him.

The bullet connected to the man’s skull, and as his head jerked backward, his aim shifted toward the roof. For some reason, the bastard still fired—hence the blast that ripped a giant hole in the roof.

“Get down!” Simon had screamed moments before the impact.

Woods splintered, and bricks fell as part of the roof came crumbling to the ground. Wires sparked dangerously in the rafters. And considering the pool across the floor, if one of those wires had dropped, we’d all have been electrocuted, friend and foe alike.

The blast was a distraction, and I used it as a window to mount on Aleksei. And that was when I started driving the knife in his neck—fast and unrelenting.

Now, fast forward to the moment he knocked me to the ground. Simon and others were busy fighting for their lives. There was no one coming to save me, and this demon was already back on his feet.

How?

He growled like a monster from the pit of hell, one hand clutching on the wound in his neck, the other balled into a fist. Blood spilled from his neck like water from a fountain, and he shouldn’t even be standing. Yet, there he was, on his feet, eyes blazing with fury.

I glanced at that gun lying discarded just beside me, and without thinking twice, I snatched it off the floor. He had already launched an attack on me and was just a few paces away when I turned over and fired once. A precise shot to his forehead.

Voices fell silent immediately, the sound of my gunshot echoing throughout the room. It was as though I pulled the final trigger, like everyone else had dealt with their own individual opponents.

Time stood still, as if the world was holding its breath. The scene looked like something straight out of a Hollywood movie—especially the way Aleksei’s head jerked backward as he fell in slow motion.

His body thudded to the ground, limp and motionless. Dark liquid pooled beneath his head, mixing with the water across the floor.

There was a ringing in my ears—so loud I thought I was going deaf. The voices around me sounded distant—muffled—as Simon and the others gathered around. I could see their mouths moving, but I was struggling to make out what they were saying.

My eyes were fixed across them, where Aleksei lay dead in the pool of his own blood.

Grigory and Simon helped me up, and the moment I rose to my feet, I ignored their concerns and limped over to my victim’s body. I couldn’t understand what I’d done—didn’t know how to feel about it.

I reached down and picked up the knife, then slowly straightened, my pregnant form towering over Aleksei’s corpse. In one hand, I gripped the bloodied knife, and in the other, I held firmly the gun that took the enemy’s life.

Back in the bathroom, my breath hitched from the weight of what I survived. My red hair clung to my skin, with stray strands framing my face as water matted my curves in crimson streaks. I lifted my head toward the shower, letting the steam take everything—the pain, the screams, and the gunshots.

I washed off, knowing it was all over now. I was safe, my family was safe—Emmy and the baby growing in my belly were out of harm’s way. My fingers combed through my hair as the warm water beat on my face, easing me of my stress.

Once done, I grabbed a towel and stepped out, the steam curling around me. I stopped in front of the mirror, drew a deep breath, and then swiped a palm over the misted glass.

The woman staring back at me barely looked like me.

My skin was damp, dotted with bruises I didn’t remember getting.

My collarbone felt much sharper than I remembered, and my eyes looked darker—dare I say haunted.

And then there was my belly: round, prominent, undeniable.

I placed my hand over it, feeling the baby’s gentle kick.

My body was changing, shaped not only by the life growing inside me but by the violence I’d survived.

With the towel wrapped around my waist, I stepped out of the bathroom, feet padding silently as I walked into the room. The air smelled faintly of blood and disinfectant.

Rosa, the housekeeper, a woman old enough to be my grandma, was bent over Egor’s side, hands dabbing around the wound with a soaked cloth.

He was stripped from the waist upward, leaving his majestic torso bare and exposed.

His muscles tightened with unconscious tension, blood seeping slowly from the jagged wound on his side.

“I’ll take it from here, Rosa,” I said, my voice calm and polite. “Thank you.”

She abandoned everything and rose to her feet, then bowed her head before heading out in silence.

Egor’s eyes flickered in my direction, and he watched me walk over to the couch as soon as Rosa shut the door behind her.

“You should be resting,” he said, concerned.

“I’m not tired,” I answered, letting the towel slide off my body in a fluid motion.

His eyes roamed my naked body, his lips twisting into a cocky smirk. “As sexy as you look, if I give in to this temptation, I might not survive it,” he teased.

“Shut up,” I murmured, gathering the supplies Rosa had brought—thread, needle, bandages, alcohol, and a gauze.

I sat on the stool before him, my subtly trembling hands working with practiced ease.

“You never cease to amaze me,” he said, his gaze lingering over me.

“How so?” I asked, pouring the alcohol over the wound.

He flinched ever so slightly, his jaw twitching in pain. “I didn’t know there was a nurse somewhere in you.”

My cheeks flushed as I leaned forward, steadying myself with a breath. “Well, when you’ve been through the hardship that I have, you kinda pick up a few skills along the way. Especially when your father comes home drunk and bleeding more often than not.”

He was silent, but his gaze still lingered over me.

His wound wasn’t clean—it had torn jagged through the flesh—but I worked with sharp precision.

In and out. Pull tight. Again.

A quiet groan fell from his lips as he stirred in pain.

“Hold still,” I said without looking up at his face. “You can take a bullet to the chest, endure a stab wound…but you can’t stand a little needle?” A playful edge crept into my tone as I stitched his wound.

“At least bullets announce themselves,” he answered, his tone dry and sarcastic. “Needles are small and sneaky.”

I laughed lightly. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

He scoffed and continued, “It’s not the needle I can’t stand. It’s that pain you’re trying so hard to hide.”

I paused, fingers hovering over his wound as his words hit me harder than I was ready for.

He continued, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability, “You never should’ve experienced what you did tonight—especially not in this condition. And if anything had happened to you—”

“Hey, what’d I say?” I cut him off, my tone dry and sharp. “Stop blaming yourself. It’s not your fault.”

“But it is, Leona,” he said, gently lifting my chin.

I saw the guilt in his eyes: the pain and the fear of an outcome that didn’t happen.

“It is my duty to protect you, to keep you safe, and not the other way around.”

“Egor,” I called softly, then hesitated for a moment, my hand rising to his face. “You’ll have plenty of time to make up for tonight, alright?”

He was silent, his eyes boring into mine.

“For now, I just need you to rest and stop brooding over an incident that never happened.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Not many people can beat their chests and say they saved my life. But you can. Because you did. You’ve saved my life, Leona—hell, you saved the entire mansion.”

Again, I felt my cheeks flush at his remark. My eyes dropped to the floor, fingers pushing some stray strands of hair behind my ear.

He reached out, a palm around my neck. “Thank you.” His words dripped with sincerity.

I met his gaze, my heart swelling with affection. “You would’ve done the same for me. I just became you for a moment—did what I thought you would do in that situation.”

Egor beamed with pride. “I am so proud of you,” he murmured, “I am, really.”

My heart melted at his words, a small smile playing on my lips.

“No harm will ever come near you,” he said, his voice dripping with conviction, “ever again. Not while I still live and breathe.”

I looked him straight in the eyes. “I don’t doubt that.”

We held each other’s gazes for a moment, the world around us fading into the background. Nothing else mattered in that moment but the two of us.

Just the two of us.