Page 39 of The Mafia's Septuplets
In the car afterward, we sit in stunned silence while Charleston’s normal afternoon rhythm continues around us. “Seven babies,” I finally say, testing the words to see if they sound more real spoken aloud.
“Seven.” He starts the engine but doesn’t immediately drive away. “Are you all right?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
He considers the question with characteristic honesty. “I’m completely overwhelmed and terrified about keeping you all safe. Yet somehow, I’m strangely excited about the possibility of such a large family all at once.”
The admission surprises me, though it probably shouldn’t. Iskander approaches everything with the same intensity, whether business deals or personal relationships. Of course, he’d embrace the challenge of seven children with the same resolve he brings to building an empire.
“It won’t be allowed to go past thirty-two weeks,” I say, repeating Dr. Layton’s warning. “A mandatory C-section with NICU stays for all of them, which means months of uncertainty about whether they’ll be healthy.”
“We’ll get through whatever comes.” His voice carries quiet confidence. “You won’t face any of this by yourself.”
“The danger to all of us is exponentially greater now.” I study his profile as he navigates afternoon traffic. “There will be nine targets instead of two.”
He nods, looking faintly troubled but clearly already planning too. “Which is why staying with me isn’t negotiable anymore.” He glances at me briefly before returning his attention to the road. “I know you value your independence, but the risk?—”
His phone rings through the car’s speakers, interrupting whatever reassurance he was preparing to offer. Timur’s name appears on the display, and Iskander answers immediately.
“What is it?”
“There’s been a break-in at Miss Reynolds’ former apartment.” Timur’s voice carries through the phone’s speaker well enoughfor me to make out what he’s saying. “It occurred approximately thirty minutes ago. There is extensive damage with obvious signs of searching.”
My heart feels like it stops completely then restarts with painful intensity. “Harper. Is Harper all right?”
“Miss Danes was at work during the incident. Building security found the damage when investigating reports of suspicious noises.”
Relief floods through me so powerfully it makes me dizzy. Harper is safe, which means the most important thing has been preserved. Everything else can be replaced or repaired.
“How extensive is the damage?” asks Iskander, though his tone suggests he already knows the answer won’t be good.
“Complete. Every room was searched, furniture was destroyed, and personal items were scattered. I believe it was designed to send a message rather than steal valuables.”
A message. Mikhail Balakin is demonstrating he can reach into our lives whenever he chooses, destroying anything we value while keeping us constantly aware of our vulnerability.
“We’re twenty minutes away,” Iskander says, already changing direction toward my old neighborhood. “Secure the scene and keep Miss Danes away until we arrive.”
“Already handled. Local police are treating it as a burglary since there’s nothing to suggest organized crime involvement.”
The call ends, and I bite back a sob. My former life has been systematically destroyed while I was learning about the seven babies I’m carrying. The timing is too perfect to be coincidental. “He knows,” I say quietly.
He’s clearly having the same thoughts. “About the pregnancy.”
“About the move, the doctor’s appointment, and how to hurt me without physically touching me.” I study Charleston’s familiar streets with new understanding of how much I’ve lost. “This was planned to coincide with today.”
His jaw tightens with simmering anger. “Probably. Mikhail prefers psychological warfare to direct confrontation.”
I struggle to maintain my composure. “What happens now?”
“We’ll assess the damage and make sure Harper stays safe before we prepare for his next move.”
The drive to my former apartment passes too quickly, bringing us closer to the wreckage of my independent life. I think about the seven babies growing inside me, the world they’ll inherit, and if Iskander and I are strong enough to protect something so precious from forces so determined to destroy it.
Seven children will depend on us to create safety from chaos, love from violence, and hope from fear. The responsibility feels enormous, but when he takes my hand, it helps knowing I’m not facing the question alone.
By the time we reach the familiar neighborhood, I’ve accepted my old life is gone completely. What remains is building something new from the ashes that’s strong enough to shelter seven children from the violence that seems to follow their father everywhere.
Seven babies are counting on it.