Page 28 of Sold to the Bratva (Sinful Mafia Daddies #2)

KATYA

T he fluorescent lights overhead are brutal and the sterile white walls amplify every awful thought ricocheting inside my skull.

I clutch the sheets until my knuckles turn bone white.

The dull ache in my lower back sharpens into a relentless throb that ripples across my belly, climbing my ribs with every shallow breath.

Isaac isn’t here. I don’t know where he is or if he’s even alive. The thought spins through my head on a merciless loop, stealing every scrap of air from my lungs.

He has to be okay. I can’t do this without him.

It’s not just the labor I’m afraid of, it’s everything that comes after. I can’t raise our baby alone. I don’t want to. I don’t want to imagine a world he’s not in.

“Katya,” Maude says softly, placing a cool cloth against my forehead. “Breathe. You’re doing beautifully.”

“I can’t do this without him,” I sob, panic cracking my voice. “What if something happened to him? What if he’s hurt? What if he doesn’t make it?”

“Shh.” Maude smooths the sweaty strands from my forehead. “You know that man. He would walk through fire to get to you, and he will. He will be here.”

“You don’t know that, Maude,” I protest. “Mikhail hasn’t texted you back. We have no idea if either of them is okay, no idea what’s happened at our home. For all we know, everyone could be dead.”

My breathing turns ragged as panic swallows me whole.

“Katya.” Maude lays her hand over mine, firm and steady. “This stress isn’t good for the baby. I know you’re terrified, but picturing the worst will only make everything hurt more. And the baby will feel your stress.”

A single tear slips down my cheek. I manage a shaky nod, too choked up to speak.

Another contraction slams into me, tight and merciless, as though my insides are tearing themselves apart. I cry out, and Maude squeezes my hand, her voice a distant lullaby I barely register.

Time blurs. A nurse brings me ice chips, and the doctor checks my dilation. Almost time, she says. This baby is coming fast.

I nod again, barely able to comprehend. Isaac isn’t here. My vision tunnels.

“Katya,” Maude says quietly, squeezing my hand. “Did you hear what the doctor said? You’re at nine centimeters. You’re going to have to start pushing soon.”

“He won’t make it,” I cry. “I don’t want to do this alone.”

“You aren’t alone,” she answers gently. “I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere until Isaac shows up. He’s going to show up.”

“Ten centimeters,” the doctor says. “It’s time to start pushing.”

“No, wait,” I choke out, my heart stuttering in my chest. “My husband isn’t here yet. Please, just wait, just a little longer…”

“They can’t, sweetheart,” Maude says gently, brushing another tear from my cheek. “The baby’s coming now. You need to focus. For you. For the baby.”

I tremble from crown to heel. I drag in a breath that never feels full and bear down. Pain ripples outward until my vision blurs. Then, just when I swear the world is collapsing inward, the door bursts open.

My head snaps toward the commotion, breath snagging in my throat. I swipe away tears to be sure I’m not hallucinating. Isaac is really there, chest heaving, eyes locked on me.

He’s a wreck. Blood streaks his shirt, a bruise blooming under one eye. His jacket hangs half-buttoned, hair wild, knuckles crusted with dirt and dried blood, but he’s here. Every muscle in my body shudders with relief.

“Isaac,” I sob, collapsing back into the pillows as the tears come fast and hard.

He rushes to my side, catching my face between his hands. His eyes rake over me with desperate urgency.

“I’m here, baby. I’m so sorry,” he whispers, forehead pressed to mine. “I got here as fast as I could.”

“Are you okay?” I hiccup between sobs. “What happened? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m okay,” he assures me, as his thumb brushes away the tears. “You don’t have to worry. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Maude steps aside, letting him take her place beside me, her face soft with understanding.

“It’s good to see you,” she says, a flicker of relief betraying her own anxieties.

She stayed strong for me even when I knew she had doubts. She never left my side.

“Thank you,” Isaac says, his voice barely above a breath, eyes never leaving me.

“Please stay,” I say, before she can leave the room. “If my mom were alive, I’d want her to be here. You’ve taken care of me just as well as she would have. Please stay with us.”

Her eyes glass over, and she nods, circling to my other side to clasp my free hand. “It would be my genuine honor.”

Another contraction seizes me and I groan, clutching both of their hands.

Isaac squeezes back, and I turn to look at him.

“I’m here, Katya. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be by your side for every moment.”

And I know he means more than just this labor.

He’ll be here for the rest of our child’s life, including the late nights, the mountains of diapers, and the constant crying.

He’ll be here for scraped knees and crushed feelings, and he’ll still be here when our kid morphs into a bratty teenager who can’t stand either of us.

A surprising wave of calm washes over me. With him beside me, my body remembers what to do. I push again.

Time collapses and expands. Isaac is a rock beside me, whispering encouragement, holding my hand, letting me crush his fingers without flinching. He counts softly with the nurse, brushes my hair from my face, and tells me I’m doing so well, that he’s never seen anyone so strong, so beautiful.

Pain consumes me, but his voice cuts through it like light at the end of a tunnel.

“I love you,” he murmurs between pushes, lips at my temple. “You’re everything, Katya. Everything.”

I can’t speak, but my heart answers for me, clinging to every word he pours into the air.

Maude stays anchored at my side, coaching me with her steady, affectionate voice. Just when I think I can’t survive another second, a cry splits the air, a high-pitched, brand-new sound.

My body collapses into the mattress, suddenly remembering what it means to rest. Through the haze, I watch Isaac rise while the nurse swaddles the baby in a soft white blanket.

“It’s…” I gasp, trying to sit up.

The nurse smiles. “A beautiful, healthy girl.”

A girl. My chest splits wide open. Isaac stares, utterly still. I’ve never seen him this frozen, this awed. She’s tiny, red-faced, screaming her lungs out, and absolutely perfect.

“She’s…” I can’t finish the sentence.

“I know,” he whispers.

The nurse guides him into cutting the umbilical cord, and then they’re taking her away to clean her off. I watch this all through hazy, heavy lids while Maude strokes my hand and gives me updates.

“Oh, she’s a little fighter,” she says happily. “There’s nothing wrong with her lungs. I bet she’s just as stubborn as her father is.”

I listen through a blur until the nurse finally places her in my arms, and I fall apart all over again. She’s warm, soft, impossibly small. Her fingers curl around mine, and something inside me shifts permanently, as though my entire life has narrowed to this single perfect moment.

Isaac sits beside me, staring at the baby like he’s seen a miracle.

“She has your eyes,” I whisper.

He looks up at me, emotion brimming at the edges of his usual steel expression. “She has your heart.”

Maude pats my hand once more, murmuring that she’ll give us a few minutes. We sit in silence, the three of us, the weight of danger, chaos, and betrayal suspended in this tiny room where only love exists.

“I thought I lost you,” I admit quietly, cradling her close. “When Mikhail pulled me out, when I heard the gunfire, I didn’t know if you were coming back.”

“I would’ve crawled here on my knees,” he says, voice rough. “If it meant seeing this moment.”

He leans forward, presses a kiss to the crown of our daughter’s head, then to my temple. “You saved me, Katya. You made me a better man. And now we have her.”

I smile through the tears. “She’s ours.”

He nods. “Ours.”

For a long time, we don’t say anything else. There’s no need. We just sit together, holding her, watching her tiny chest rise and fall with every breath.

Exhaustion drags at me, but it can’t compete with the exhilaration coursing through my veins. I feel as though I could sleep for days and, at the same time, never close my eyes again.

“What should we name her?” I ask, the idea of it suddenly overwhelming me.

“I thought you’d settled on a name,” he teases, bringing up our constant back and forth about baby names over the last few months.

“Somehow, Frances just doesn’t fit her,” I joke.

“I really like Maude,” he teases right back. “And she was there for our baby’s first few breaths.”

“I don’t think Maude is a baby name,” I retort. “But don’t ever tell her that. I think Maude is a name you have to grow into. To earn.”

“Well, that’s probably true,” he concedes. “What about Kira?”

Kira. I roll the name around on my tongue, and when I whisper it out loud, it sounds perfect.

“That’s the one,” I say, bringing her closer to my face so I can kiss her softly. “Little Kira Kozlova.”

A silence falls between us, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It’s reverent, a moment suspended in time just for the three of us. Then Isaac’s face darkens. A shadow passes over his expression, and I know that peace is about to break.

He lifts Kira gently in his arms, brushing his lips against her forehead before settling her more securely against his chest. His other hand reaches for mine.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he says.

I know what’s coming. It’s in his tone. The steady way he braces himself. The way his jaw tightens like he’s preparing for impact.

“Your father and Oleg,” he begins, “they’re the ones who orchestrated the attack.”

I blink, sure I’ve misheard in my exhaustion. “What?”

Isaac nods. “They infiltrated the house. They said it was all a long game to take over the Kozlov Bratva. Marrying you to me was their way in. They wanted my trust.”

I sit up straighter despite the ache in my lower back and the fog of delivery still pressing against my skull.

“No,” I whisper. “No, that can’t be right.”

“I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen them myself. They came into my office, guns drawn. They admitted everything to me like it was a done deal.”

My head spins. “He was willing to risk me?”

Isaac’s eyes soften, but the fury simmering behind them is unmistakable.

“I don’t think he ever thought I’d fight back. Or maybe he thought you’d just stay quiet. That you’d take it. I don’t know, Katya. I only know one thing for sure and that I love you.”

He leans forward, still holding our daughter as if she’s made of spun glass.

Tears prick my eyes again, hot and fast. “I had no idea,” I whisper. “I swear, if I had known…”

“I know.”

“I would’ve warned you. I would’ve told you everything.”

“I know.”

My voice breaks. “I can’t believe he would do that. To me. To our daughter.”

We sit in silence for a long moment. I stare at Kira, who sighs softly in her sleep, completely unaware that the two sides of her bloodline just tried to rip each other apart. And she’s only been alive a few minutes.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand. “What happens now?”

Isaac exhales. “They’re in the basement. Alive. For now.”

A shiver runs through me. “You didn’t kill them?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I wanted to. God, Katya, I wanted to kill them both with my bare hands. But I couldn’t. Not until I knew you were okay. Not until I knew what you wanted.”

I let that sink in. I still don’t know what I want, not yet, but I do know what I don’t. I won’t let this war consume our daughter’s life before she even opens her eyes to the sun.

“I need time,” I say.

“I’m going to keep you both safe,” he says after a beat. “That’s my vow. No matter what it takes. No matter what happens with our families. You and Kira come first. Always.”

I believe him. With everything in me, I do.