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Alina

The private maternity clinic is serene, characterized by soft lighting, muted walls, and gentle music playing from somewhere above. Each element is designed to foster a calming atmosphere. Soothing. But nothing can quiet the flutter in my chest.

I press my hand to my belly as we walk through the double doors, Lev’s other hand hovering just behind my back, never quite touching, but always there.

He’s not speaking. Hasn’t said more than a few words since we got into the car. His jaw’s tight, and shoulders tense. Not angry—just locked in something deeper. A kind of focus that makes my heart ache. He hasn’t stopped fussing over me since I got in his car this morning.

“Alina?” the nurse calls gently.

Lev straightens before I can, nodding and stretching out his hand with a tension he can’t quite mask. He’s polite to everyone. But it’s the kind of polite that says I will fuck you over if you step out of line.

We’re led into a small, warm room. There’s a screen mounted on the wall, the low hum of machines I’ve already come to recognize. I climb onto the table, heart thudding, fingers twitching slightly as I try to steady my breath.

Lev sits beside me, close enough that I feel the warmth of his thigh against mine. He reaches for my hand. I offer it, and he takes it—holding it tight, lacing our fingers together like he’s anchoring himself with me.

The doctor enters, all calm, smiles, and practiced grace.

“How are we feeling today?”

“Nervous,” I admit.

“Excited,” Lev adds beside me, though his voice is lower. Rougher.

The doctor smiles. “That’s normal. Let’s take a look.”

She applies the cool gel to my stomach, and I flinch.

Lev’s grip tightens.

The wand moves slowly, and then—there it is.

That sound. That beautiful, steady whoosh-whoosh that somehow never gets old.

The baby’s heartbeat.

Strong. Fast. Alive. Healthy.

My eyes sting, and I hear Lev exhale beside me, long and unsteady.

“Heartbeat is perfect,” the doctor says warmly. “110 beats per minute, and you’re progressing very well.”

Lev shifts in his seat, his thumb brushing over my knuckles like he’s praying through touch alone.

The doctor glances at us with a gentle smile. “Would you like to know the gender?”

My heart skips a beat, and I look at Lev. He’s already looking at me.

“Is it possible to know this early?” Lev asks. “She hardly has a bump.”

“It is possible to determine the gender of a fetus at sixteen weeks of gestation using more advanced equipment, like what we have here. However, it's safe to say that it is not always one hundred percent accurate; it's more like ninety-nine percent.”

We don’t speak, and she asks if we want to wait to find out at a later date. Lev and I look at each other and reach a silent conclusion.

“We would like to know.”

The doctor smiles and turns back to the monitor.

“Well… congratulations. It’s a girl.”

My breath catches. Lev doesn’t move. He goes completely still. His hand tightens in mine, just slightly. I turn my head to him and see his throat work around a hard swallow. His eyes—those green eyes—are shining.

But he doesn’t blink. Doesn’t let a single tear fall.

The doctor gives us a moment. “I’ll step out for a bit,” she says softly. “Take your time.”

The door clicks shut behind her.

Lev still doesn’t speak. He shifts slowly, leans forward, and presses his forehead to mine- a gesture I’ve come to recognize as a sign of his affection. His voice is barely a whisper.

“A little girl…”

It’s reverent like he can’t quite believe it. And just like that, something in me cracks wide open. Because this man—this feared, deadly, loyal man—is holding my hand with shaking fingers and whispering like he’s never seen anything more beautiful than the life growing inside me.

The drive back is quiet. Not the tense kind of quiet. Not the silence of things unsaid. It’s something else entirely—something softer. More sacred. Like the world has pressed pause just to give us this sliver of peace.

Lev’s free hand rests on the gearshift; he hasn’t moved it since we left the clinic’s parking lot. His other hand curls around the steering wheel, knuckles pale, but not from tension—just… thought.

Outside, the city rolls by in streaks of gray and amber light. The kind of late morning glow that makes everything look almost surreal. I watch him from the passenger seat. His jaw is clenched but not in anger.

“I almost walked away from this.” His voice is low, almost lost beneath the sound of the tires on pavement.

I turn toward him, my heart twisting.

“I almost walked away from you. From her.”

He doesn’t look at me. He just keeps driving, but his voice trembles in a way I’ve never heard before.

“I told myself I had no right to want this. To want you. To want a family. I told myself… if I stayed, I’d only destroy you.”

I bite my lip, and for a few seconds, I say nothing. Because if I open my mouth now, I might break. But he deserves to hear it.

“Do you know what it did to me when you left?” I whisper.

He glances at me then—just once. Just enough.

“It shattered me,” I say. “You didn’t just leave, Lev. You vanished. You let me believe I meant nothing. Now that destroyed me.”

He winces as if my words struck something raw in him. I don’t say it to wound him—but I must say it. I need him to know. I need him to understand that not having him is what will destroy me.

“I cried for you every night. I hated you and loved you in the same breath. I thought maybe I had made it all up in my head, that perhaps I had imagined our shared moments meant something to you.” I swallow the bile rising in my belly. “You hurt me, Lev. You almost destroyed me.”

His hand tightens around the steering wheel. His breathing becomes shallow now, and he can barely control himself.

He pulls over.

We’re in a quiet spot overlooking the river. Trees arch above us like shelter. The world goes still again, and for a long moment, he just… stares out at the water.

Then he turns to me. “I was scared,” he says, voice rough with that admission. “Not of you. Of myself. Of what I’d become.”

He looks down at his hands—those hands that have killed, protected, held me like I was made of something precious.

“When Viktor found me all those years ago, I was a feral dog. I didn’t believe in mercy. I didn’t believe in love. I damn sure didn’t believe I deserved any of it.”

I reach for him without thinking, my hand sliding over his. He doesn’t flinch. But he doesn’t move either.

“I watched you grow into this beautiful woman,” he says. “Gentle, brilliant, brave. And I looked at myself and thought… I’ll ruin her. If I stay, I’ll ruin her and tint her blood with mine.”

“But you didn’t ruin me,” I whisper. “You saved me.”

He finally looks at me.

“You saved me, too.”

“And Lev?” I say, wanting him to look at me, to see the truth in what I am about to say. “I am privileged to be the one to carry your bloodline forward. It is the bloodline of a warrior, a survivor, and of honor.”

“There is nothing honorable about me or where I am coming from.” He tries to scoff it off.

“Perhaps not from where you hail, but you have undoubtedly created a life of honor in the bratva. What others received due to their birthright, you fought for and earned with your blood and sweat. I am proud to carry a part of you.”

The silence between us is heavy now, but it’s not weighed down by pain. It’s filled with the weight of truth. Of survival. Of us.

“I can see her,” he says softly. “When I close my eyes, I see her. A little girl with your eyes and a mind of her own.”

I smile, tears slipping down my cheek.

“She’s going to be stubborn,” I say.

“She’s going to be protected,” he replies, eyes glinting with something fierce.

He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine again like he did in the clinic. “I swear to you,” he murmurs, “I will never walk away again.”

And this time, I believe him. With everything in me, I believe him.

The car is still, but it feels like we’re moving—like we’ve stepped over some invisible line between before and after. I feel it in the quiet. In the way Lev breathes, it's like the weight on his chest has shifted. His thumb grazes the back of my hand slowly, like he’s memorizing me through touch. Like he can’t quite believe I’m still here.

“I never told you the whole story,” he says, barely audible.

I glance up at him. He’s not asking for permission—he’s finally ready.

“I was fourteen when I started running drugs for Mendes,” he says, voice distant, like he’s watching a movie play in the back of his mind. “I was starving. Sleeping in alleys. I didn’t have anyone. No one gave a shit if I lived or died.”

I feel my heart begin to crack. I want to reach out, to stop him, to hold the boy he used to be. But I let him speak.

“He used me like a damn mule. And when one deal went south—ten thousand dollars gone, a package I never even touched—he beat me until I couldn’t see straight. And then he put a gun to my head.”

My breath stutters.

Lev’s jaw flexes, but his voice stays low. Measured.

“He would’ve pulled the trigger if Viktor hadn’t shown up. Paid the debt. Took me in. No one had ever fought for me before.”

I squeeze his hand. He squeezes back.

“That’s why I was loyal to him,” Lev continues. “That’s why I’d die for him. But it also made me believe I didn’t deserve more than that. That loyalty was the best thing I could offer anyone.”

He turns toward me fully now, and the rawness in his eyes leaves me breathless.

“And then you came along,” he murmurs. “With those eyes that see everything. That heart that never hardens, no matter what the world throws at it.”

My throat tightens.

“You didn’t just make me feel seen, Alina. You made me want things. Soft things. Future things.”

A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it.

“And I panicked,” he whispers. “Because I didn’t know how to be worthy of that. Of you.”

I lift our joined hands and press them to my lips.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” I whisper against his skin. “You just have to stay.”

He closes his eyes like the words cut and soothe him all at once.

The wind rattles the trees outside. A bird calls faintly somewhere in the distance. The world keeps spinning. But in this car, in this moment, we are weightless.

“You didn’t ruin me,” I say quietly.

He opens his eyes.

“You gave me something worth fighting for.”

He exhales shakily. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I nod.

“Then let’s build something neither of us ever had.”

His gaze burns into mine. “A family of our own.”

“A future,” I whisper.

And then, slowly, he leans in and kisses me. The kind of kiss that says we made it.