Page 22

Chapter 22

Future Worth Bleeding For

Vasiliyi

G alina crashes into my office like a hurricane of blood and panic.

Her voice is a shredded whisper—my name on her lips, terror in her eyes—and then she drops.

I’m at her side before the others can even move. She collapses against my chest, sobbing with silent terror, her whole body trembling like a live wire. My arms catch her instinctively, cradling her close. One look at her bruised jaw, the blood in her hair, and the cut across her scalp, and something inside me snaps.

“What the fuck happened?” I demand, but her words are slurred, barely recognizable.

“Matvei,” she breathes. “He… I— He tried—” Her voice fractures. She’s babbling, incoherent, whispering about insults and injuries, but her mouth can’t keep up with the fear still clawing through her.

And then she starts to fall. Her knees buckle, her limbs give out.

“No, no, stay with me,” I growl, tightening my grip. “Stay with me, Galina.”

Her head lolls against my chest. She’s losing consciousness fast.

“Jaromir, get the fucking doctor, now,” I bark. “And find that piece of shit Matvei. I want his head on a spike.”

The men scatter, but I barely register them. My whole world has shrunk to the trembling woman in my arms. I lower her gently to the leather couch, fighting to keep my hands steady. There’s blood in her hair. Bruises blooming across her skin. And beneath it all, the faint curve of her belly—our child.

My fingers find her pulse. Steady, but her skin’s clammy. I press a clean handkerchief to the worst of the scalp wounds and curl my other hand over her stomach.

No one touches what’s mine and lives.

“Vasiliy?” Her voice is faint, barely there.

“I’m here,” I murmur, brushing sweat-damp hair off her forehead. “You’re safe.”

Her eyes flutter open, wild and unfocused. “The baby?—”

“The doctor’s on his way,” I say, even though it’s not enough. It won’t be enough until I see her whole, until I know the baby’s okay.

She tries to rise, but I press her back gently. “Easy. You protected yourself, lisichka . You protected both of you.”

Tears fill her eyes. “He tried to— If I hadn’t— He was going to—” Her voice breaks again.

I know what she’s saying. And I know what she’s not saying.

My vision darkens. My jaw locks. The beast inside me howls for blood.

I gather her into my arms, holding her tighter than I probably should. Her body trembles against mine, and every shake fuels the fire already burning in my chest. I will tear Matvei apart with my bare hands. No man lays a finger on Galina and survives.

“He won’t touch you again,” I promise, voice like steel. “I’ll end him.”

She clings to me, fingers curled tight in my shirt.

The doctor appears. I don’t want to let go. Not when she’s still trembling in my arms. But I force myself to ease back, just enough for him to examine her. She doesn’t let go of my hand, not even when the latex gloves snap on, not when the stethoscope touches her skin. Her fingers stay locked in mine like a lifeline.

And I grip back. Just as hard.

“Ms. Olenko,” he says gently, setting his bag down. “Can you tell me where it hurts?”

“Nowhere specific,” she murmurs, her voice small and tight.

“Let’s start with what we can see.” He leans in, inspecting her arms and face. When she winces, he pauses, waiting for her nod before continuing. His touch is clinical, detached, unmoved by the blood crusting her palms or the bruise already darkening along her jaw. When his hand presses lightly to her abdomen, I don’t breathe. I watch her instead—how she bites her lip to keep from crying out.

Every instinct in me screams for retribution. But I stay. Because right now, she doesn’t need vengeance. She needs me here.

“The cuts are superficial,” the doctor says finally. “She’s taken a blow to the head. Likely a mild concussion. Some bruising, but no fractures.”

He hesitates.

I feel the shift in the room before he speaks again.

“But considering her condition…”

Galina’s eyes open, full of dread. “The baby?”

“We’ll do an ultrasound to be sure,” he replies calmly. “But there’s no sign of major trauma. Still, rest. Watch for cramping or bleeding. If anything changes, call me right away.”

Her grip tightens until it feels like she might crush my hand. “Okay,” she whispers.

He finishes cleaning her cuts, wraps her wrist and scalp in fresh bandages, and gathers his things. “Stay off your feet as much as possible. And stay near the bathroom. The concussion might still catch up with you.”

Galina barely nods. Her eyes are shut again, lips pressed tight.

When the door clicks shut behind him, I sit beside her and let the silence stretch.

I want to rip something apart. Matvei’s name is already etched onto the kill list I carry in my bones. If he wanted death, he picked the perfect way to earn it.

She places a trembling hand over her stomach, her gaze distant. “What are you thinking about?”

My jaw clenches. “I’m thinking when I find that motherfucker, I’ll skin him alive. Use his lungs as umbrella fabric. Sew his guts into a goddamn coat.”

A small smile tugs at her lips. “Wouldn’t that be terribly messy?”

“Only if the tailor’s sloppy.” I kiss her hand. “I’ll commission someone good.”

She tries to roll her eyes—winces instead. “Brutal as always, Volkov.”

My phone buzzes. Jaromir.

“He’s gone,” the message reads. “Looks like she got him good. There’s blood everywhere.”

I shove the phone into my pocket, heat boiling up my spine. “He ran. But I’ll smoke him out.”

Galina nods faintly. “Good.”

I reach for a cup of tea. “Here. Drink.”

She blinks at it. “Where did that come from?”

“Oksana brought it in before the doctor arrived. Said it’d calm you.”

She takes a careful sip. “I had time to think.”

I lower my phone and watch her. “About?”

“The pregnancy. And my uncle. He’s making his move,” she says, voice flat. “My family’s coming for us.”

I lean forward, sharp and still. “Tell me everything.”

She closes her eyes, wincing slightly in the light. Even now—bruised, battered, shaken—she doesn’t unravel. She’s spent years navigating power plays and Bratva politics, learning to survive without letting herself fracture. And even in this most vulnerable state, she’s fighting, not breaking.

Her voice is soft, but the words slice deep. She tells me about Detective Rong—how the mask slipped, how the setup wasn’t a coincidence, but a calculated attack. With every sentence, something inside me coils tighter. The rage builds, slow and lethal, until it feels like I’m vibrating with the need to destroy.

“They’re all working together against us,” she whispers, a tear tracking down her cheek. “They’re obsessed with revenge. Rong offered me a deal.”

My jaw clenches. “What kind of deal?”

“Protection. A clean slate. Safety for the baby,” she says with a bitter edge. “All I had to do was testify. Against you. Against your brother-in-law. She showed me photos, Vasiliy. Of me. Of us. They’ve been watching. Planning.”

My blood goes cold. Surveillance. Leverage. This isn’t just heat from law enforcement—it’s war. And they’re trying to use the one thing I can’t afford to lose.

“But you said no,” I murmur, even though I already know the answer. I just need to hear it.

“Yes,” she breathes. “But she won’t stop. And neither will my uncle.”

I pull her into me, careful of her bandages, and rest my chin against her hair. “We’ll handle them. Rong. Vladimir. Anyone else who wants a piece of this. But for now, you need rest.”

“I should go home?—”

“You’re staying here.” It’s not a question. “Until it’s safe. After that, I’ll take you back to the penthouse.”

She exhales softly but doesn’t argue. Her body melts against mine.

“I was so scared,” she whispers. “Not just for me. I couldn’t let him hurt the baby. I couldn’t?—”

“You didn’t,” I interrupt, stroking her back. “You protected our child. Like a mother should.”

She goes still in my arms. “I never thought I wanted this. A baby. A future. But now…”

“Now?”

Her gaze lifts to mine. Fierce. Unapologetic. “Now I’ll fight anyone who threatens my child. Even my own family.”

I kiss her forehead, then her temple, sealing the vow I’ve already made without words. She doesn’t need promises from me. She just needs truth.

“Rest,” I murmur. “I’ve got you both.”

Her body relaxes, finally letting go. Her hand settles on her stomach as she drifts off. Outside this office, the world still spins. My enemies are still out there, plotting, circling, hunting.

Let them come.

I’ve survived hell before. But this is different.

Now I have something to protect.

Someone.

Love isn’t armor. It’s a weapon.

And I’ll use it to carve a future where no one touches what’s mine.

What’s ours.