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Viktor

I watch from the doorway as Scarlett and my sisters put the finishing touches on the nursery. The room glows with a warmth I hadn’t realized was missing from this house. Soft blues and pinks cover the walls, divided by white trim. Scarlett stands near a crib, adjusting a mobile of stars that catch the light just right. Rainbows scatter across the room, and for a moment, I forget everything else.

“Do you think the twins will like it?” Scarlett asks, turning to Alina, who is folding impossibly small onesies into a drawer.

“They’d better,” Alina replies with a grin. “This place looks better than my room.”

“You just want an excuse to move in,” Yelena teases, tying bows on a crib bumper.

Scarlett laughs, and I feel something in my chest tighten. Since I was eighteen, I’ve spent years shielding myself from people, and have never experienced this—a family creating something together. It’s disarming in a way I can’t describe.

“They’ll love it,” I finally say, stepping into the room. All three of them look at me, and Scarlett’s smile softens.

“These children are going to end up spoiled,” Yelena says.

“Good,” Scarlett says, “because they’re going to grow up spoiled with love.”

She’s right. My children will know love. But they’ll also know the strength of the family surrounding them.

As we leave the nursery, Scarlett turns to me with a mischievous glint in her eye. “We’re heading to the cinema room. Don’t wait up.”

I arch a brow. “I wasn’t planning to.”

She smirks, linking arms with my sisters as they walk down the corridor. Their laughter echoes, and I linger for a moment, watching them disappear around the corner. It’s a sight I never thought I’d see—a woman who makes this house feel like home.

I retreat to my office. A thick folder waits on my desk, the latest update on the five-star luxury hotel project nearing completion. Lev and Zasha are sitting opposite me, also pouring through folders.

I flip through the pages, noting the construction milestones, projected profits, and a list of suppliers. The numbers are solid, the vision is clear. This will be more than a hotel—it will be a statement.

Lev clears his throat. “The Sidorov Bratva is fully integrated, Pakhan ,” he says, his tone crisp.

I glance up. “No resistance?”

Zasha smirks. “None worth mentioning. The last meeting I held with their leaders made the hierarchy clear. No one wants to test the new Pakhan .”

I nod, satisfied. “Good. Any signs of betrayal?”

“Not a whisper,” Lev replies. “We’ve tightened the reins.”

“Keep it that way,” I say firmly. “The twins’ birth will mark a new era for the Makarov Bratva. I won’t tolerate dissent.”

Zasha leans forward, a rare grin breaking his stoic demeanor. “The Sidorovs know better. No one will forget what happened to Vovka.”

The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of those words lingering. I close the folder and rise. “Keep them in line,” I say, my voice low but commanding.

I’m mid-sentence with Zasha when my phone buzzes on the desk. Alina’s name flashes on the screen. My chest tightens as I grab the device.

“She’s in labor,” Alina says, her voice urgent but steady.

The air shifts around me, every muscle in my body tensing. “I’m on my way,” I reply, already moving. Zasha and Lev fall into step behind me as I head toward the cinema room where Scarlett is with my sisters.

Scarlett leans against the wall, her hands on her belly and her face a mix of determination and discomfort.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” I say, moving to scooping her into my arms. But she protests weakly as another contraction hits.

“I can walk, Viktor,” she grits out. “I feel more comfortable walking.”

She winces as another contraction grips her, but she waves off my attempts to carry her. “I can walk,” she insists, her voice strained but determined. “Just … don’t let go.”

I don’t argue. Instead, I offer my arm, letting her lean on me for support. Each step is slow, deliberate, and laced with tension. My hand rests firmly on her lower back, steadying her as we navigate through the corridors.

Her breaths come in shallow gasps, her grip on my arm tightening with each contraction. “You’re doing great,” I murmur, my voice low and steady.

Scarlett flashes me a small, strained smile. “Liar.”

We step outside, and the cool night air washes over us. I help her into the car, my hands never leaving her for longer than a moment. Alina and Yelena slide in beside her, their chatter subdued but supportive.

In the driver’s seat, I glance at Scarlett through the rearview mirror. She catches my eye and nods, her silent reassurance igniting a fierce determination within me.

The hospital entrance is a flurry of activity. Dr. Damien and a team of nurses wait outside, their expressions professional but tinged with urgency.

“Lev called me,” Damien says as I help Scarlett out of the car. His eyes flicker to her pale face, then back to me. “He said the Bratva queen has gone into labor.”

Scarlett lets out a soft laugh despite the pain. “Queen, huh? That’s a stretch.”

I tighten my grip on her waist, guiding her towards the chair the staff has wheeled out. “You heard him,” I murmur. “That makes me your king.”

Scarlett rolls her eyes but leans into me as another contraction hits. Her groan is muffled against my chest, and I feel her nails dig into my forearm.

“She’s a strong one, Pakhan, ” Damien observes as they settle her onto the gurney. “You’ll both do fine.”

I nod, my jaw tightening. Strong doesn’t even begin to describe Scarlett.

In the delivery room, the air is thick with tension and anticipation. Scarlett grips my hand, her nails digging into my skin every time a contraction wracks her body. Her strenuous breathing is a mix of shallow gasps and deep, desperate gulps of air.

“Breathe, Scarlett,” I urge, leaning close to her ear. “You’ve got this.”

She glares at me through the pain. “Easy for you to say. You are not popping out babies from your hole,” she snaps, then winces as another contraction hits. Her strength amazes me, even as she curses under her breath.

I’ve faced gunfire, betrayal, and death, but this … this is a different kind of battle. Watching her fight to bring our children into the world ignites a fierce respect and admiration I didn’t think possible. My free hand brushes damp strands of hair from her forehead, and I press a kiss there.

“You’re incredible,” I whisper, meaning every word.

Damien’s calm instructions fill the room, and Scarlett bears down with a strength that takes my breath away. Finally, a sharp, piercing cry breaks through the tension.

“It’s a girl,” Damien announces, placing the tiny, wriggling bundle in Scarlett’s arms.

Scarlett’s exhaustion melts away as she gazes down at our daughter, her face softening with wonder. I reach out, my hand trembling slightly, and touch the baby’s cheek. Her skin is impossibly soft, her cries filling the room with life.

“She’s beautiful,” Scarlett whispers, tears glistening in her eyes.

I nod, unable to speak as I cradle the baby in my arms. The weight of her feels monumental, a reminder of the new life we’ve created together. But just as they whisk her away to be cleaned, Scarlett gasps sharply, her body tensing.

It’s another contraction.

“She’s ready,” Damien says, his voice steady.

Moments later, another cry pierces the room.

“It’s a boy,” Damien announces, handing the second baby to Scarlett. She looks at me, her face radiant despite the exhaustion.

“You’re amazing,” I tell her, my voice thick with emotion as I take the boy into my arms. He’s smaller than I expected, but his tiny fists clench with surprising strength.

“Twins,” Scarlett murmurs, her voice filled with awe. “We made twins.”

I press a kiss to her forehead. “You did it,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “You brought them into the world.”

Once Scarlett is cleaned up and moved to the presidential suite, I sit beside her, watching her hold our daughter. She’s beautiful, even in exhaustion, and the twins—our twins—are a miracle I never expected.

“They’re perfect,” she whispers, her voice filled with awe.

“They take after their mother,” I reply, pressing a kiss to her temple.

For the first time in a long time, I feel peace. This is what I’ve fought for. This is what I’ll protect with everything I have.

The door opens, and Yelena, Alina, Lev, and Zasha enter. They approach the bassinets with reverence, their faces softening as they look at the twins.

“Future Bratva royalty,” Lev jokes, though there’s pride in his voice.

Scarlett laughs softly, and I feel a surge of gratitude for this family we’ve built.

The room fills with laughter as everyone takes turns holding the babies. Yelena claims the title of “favorite aunt,” while Alina argues she’s better suited for it. Lev insists he’ll be the favorite uncle.

I stand back, watching them. This is more than I ever thought I’d have—a family united, not just by blood, but by love and loyalty.

As the laughter dies down, Scarlett looks at me, her eyes shining with unshared tears. “I love you,” she says quietly.

I step closer, taking her hand in mine. “I love you too,” I say, my voice firm.

“Eww,” Alina says, chuckling.

“Careful, guys, this is what got us here in the first place,” Lev adds, and everyone laughs.

After everyone leaves, I sit beside Scarlett, our twins asleep in their bassinets. She leans her head on my shoulder, and for a moment, the world is still.

“I’ve never been this scared,” she admits.

“You have nothing to fear,” I tell her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’ll protect all of you.”

The twins stir, their tiny hands reaching out. Scarlett and I watch them in silence, our hearts full.

“They’re our future,” I say, my voice filled with conviction.

Scarlett nods, her hand resting on mine. Together, we watch over our children, a promise of hope and a brighter tomorrow.