Page 61 of The Russian's Arranged Pregnant Bride

And I had a sinking feeling that when Rafael finally found out the truth, I’d have to choose.

Between her and Bratva.

Between love and loyalty.

Between protecting the woman carrying my child and honoring the family that had raised me.

I looked down at her, her face peaceful in sleep, one hand resting protectively over her stomach.

My baby. My blood.

I’d meant what I said.

I was watching her. Protecting her.

But technically, she’d betrayed us—she’d put my family, my people, in danger—and I didn’t know what I’d do.

Kill her, the way Bratva demanded?

Or save her, and damn myself in the process?

I brushed a strand of hair from her face, my chest tight with emotions I couldn’t name.

“What have you done, kitten?” I whispered into the darkness.

She didn’t answer.

But somewhere, deep in the shadows, the truth was waiting.

And when it came for us, there would be no mercy.

Only blood.

Chapter 18 – Cassandra

My fingers clutched my phone so tightly I thought the screen might crack under the pressure. My stomach twisted, not from morning sickness this time, but from the anxiety clawing at my insides like a caged animal desperate to get out.

I felt trapped. Cornered. Like the walls were closing in and there was nowhere left to run.

Vance had those photos from Ohio. Careless moments from two years ago when I’d been stupid enough to think a night of freedom wouldn’t cost me everything. Me in that club, laughing with him. His hands on my thighs. Both of us leaning close, looking like exactly what we weren’t: two people who knew each other, who trusted each other.

I’d tried ghosting him. Stopped answering his calls, ignored his messages, hoped he’d just disappear. But Vance didn’t take rejection well. He’d escalated—sent increasingly threatening messages, reminded me exactly what he had on me.

If I kept ignoring him, he’d use those photos. Send them to Rafael. And Rafael wouldn’t give me time to explain. Wouldn’t care about context or manipulation or the fact that I’d been set up from the start.

He’d just put a bullet in my head and move on.

But Drew’s warning echoed in my skull, louder than Vance’s threats, more terrifying than Rafael’s wrath.

“I’m watching you. Not just for the Bratva. For my baby. My blood.”

Drew might’ve kissed me like he meant it. Might’ve whispered promises against my skin, held me through the night like I was something precious. But if he found out I’d betrayed the Bratva, if he discovered I was the reason for the ambush, the reason his family had lost millions, he wouldn’t just walk away.

He’d turn on me.

And I wouldn’t blame him.

Because that’s what loyalty meant in this world. Blood over everything. Family over feelings.