Page 9 of Toxic Salvation (Krayev Bratva #2)

KOVAN

“It smells like lavender downstairs,” Osip announces the moment he and Pavel walk into my office.

Pavel stops short in the doorway, squinting through the darkness toward the lounge where I’m sprawled in the wingback chair, staring at absolutely nothing.

“That’s Osip’s tactful way of asking if Vesper’s here,” Pavel explains as he flips on a light. “My question is—why does it feel like a vampire’s crypt in here?”

“I wanted darkness and quiet. Both of which are now fucked, thanks to you two.”

“Definitely crabby,” Osip declares, settling onto the sofa without invitation. “Vesper must be here. No one else can put him in this kind of mood.”

“If you’re gonna stay here, sit down and shut up,” I growl. “I need to think.”

Pavel claims the opposite end of the sofa while Osip spots the bottle of vodka I cracked open an hour ago. He pours himself a generous glass and offers one to Pavel, who waves him off.

“We celebrating something?” Osip asks, entirely too cheerful for my current state of mind.

“What’s going on, Kovan?” Pavel uses that careful tone he reserves for when he thinks I might snap.

I shift in the chair, pulling my legs down from where they’d been draped over the arm. The vodka I poured earlier out of habit sits untouched in my glass. Strange how the urge to drink disappeared the moment I knew Vesper was under the same roof.

“She’s here,” I confirm.

“Called it!” Osip crows, twisting to face Pavel. “You owe me a hundo.”

Pavel smacks the back of his head. “We don’t know why she’s here, idiot.”

“I don’t give a shit about the why. I bet you he’d get her back, and here she is. Pay up.”

“I didn’t get her back,” I interrupt, finally taking a sip of vodka. The burn makes me wince and I set it right back down. “We’re not together. She’s here because…” I pause, weigh my options, and then decide, Fuck it . “Because she’s pregnant.”

I’ve been sitting in this chair for over an hour, turning those words over in my mind. Apparently, all I needed was to say them out loud to make them real.

“Pregnant?” Pavel sounds like he’s choking. “Are you sure?”

“I saw the ultrasound. Three months along. It’s a boy.” I can’t believe I’m saying this aloud. “I’m going to have a son.”

Osip lets out a low whistle while Pavel claps his hands together. “Fuck, Ko. You’re going to be a father. Congratulations!” His smile fades when he sees my expression. “You’re not happy about this.”

“I don’t know what I am about this,” I admit. “It was never supposed to happen.”

“Since when is that kind of thing ever planned for men like us?” Osip shifts closer, suddenly serious. “Ah. I see. You’re worried about Ihor.”

The name alone makes my jaw clench. “If he finds out, he’ll come for them. Both of them. He’d see it as perfect revenge—a son for a son.”

“He’s not getting near Luka,” Pavel says, cracking his knuckles. “And he sure as hell isn’t touching your baby.”

“You’re right. Because we’re going to eliminate him before he gets the chance.”

“Eliminate him?” Osip perks up. “We’re finally doing it?”

Pavel looks considerably less enthusiastic. “Kovan, we’ve left him alone this long because the bastard’s too powerful. Half the Bratva still considers him the rightful pakhan .”

“And what’s wrong with that picture?” I growl. “There shouldn’t be any question about who’s in charge. Keeping him alive was a mistake. Keeping him close was worse. Time to fix both problems.”

“Kill him now and you make him a martyr,” Pavel warns.

“So what?” Osip shrugs. “Dead martyrs can’t hurt anyone.”

“Some ghosts have a way of coming back to haunt you.”

“Since when are you afraid of ghosts, you little?—”

“Since when are you such a bloodthirsty?—”

“Enough.” I cut through their bickering before it escalates. “I need both of you focused. We have to be sharp if we’re going to beat this son of a bitch. He’s got experience, but that doesn’t mean he holds all the cards.”

“Just most of them,” Pavel mutters.

Osip glares at him, but Pavel doesn’t back down. “What? It’s true. I’m not saying you made the wrong choice cutting ties with the Keres, but it did double Ihor’s power base. Even if you strip him of his position here, he’s got the entire Keres organization backing him.”

“I’m aware.” I drain the rest of my vodka in one swallow. “Which is why this won’t be an all-out war. We work in the shadows first.”

Pavel sits up straighter, interested now. “Meaning?”

“We dismantle his support system. Isolate him from his allies. When we finally move against him, he’ll be weak and alone.”

“That could take months,” Osip points out.

“Sometimes, the long game is the only game worth playing. I don’t need this done fast—I need it done right.”

Osip grins. “Game on it is then.”

By the time we finish discussing strategy, it’s well past Luka’s bedtime.

There was a time when I couldn’t schedule anything between seven and eight because I was busy with his nighttime routine.

These days, I’m lucky if he lets me in his room at all.

Two weeks ago, he taped a hand-drawn sign to his door that read: DO NOT ENTER.

THAT MEANS YOU, UNCLE KOVAN. Below it, he added a chalk drawing of what I assume is meant to be a monster baring its teeth.

I’ve been too afraid to ask if I’m supposed to be the monster.

The sign is still there when I reach his door, but I notice light spilling from underneath. I push the door open to find Vesper lying on the bed beside Luka, reading him a story in a whisper.

I slip inside, staying in the shadows near the doorway. Luka is fast asleep, but she continues reading anyway, holding the book with one hand while the other rests on her gently sloped stomach.

The sight stops me in my tracks.

In six months, there will be a baby. My baby. The idea is so foreign I can barely wrap my mind around it. I never wanted children. Watching what happened to Vitalii convinced me that family made you weak, made you vulnerable.

But looking at Vesper now, gentle and protective even in her sleep-deprived state, I can’t help but think maybe I was wrong about some things.

She finishes the story and closes the book, reaching back toward the nightstand. Luka is tucked against her side, making it impossible for her to set it down without disturbing him.

I step forward and take the book from her hands. She startles, looking up at me with surprise. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to hear the happy ending.”

“Enjoy it while you can.” She carefully extracts her arm from beneath Luka’s head and replaces it with a pillow. “They only exist in fairytales.”

I move around to the other side of the bed so she doesn’t have to crane her neck to look at me. “When did you become such a pessimist?”

“Around the time I met you.” She flushes immediately. “Sorry. That was unfair.”

“You’re dealing with a lot. I get it.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

She adjusts Luka’s blanket. Every movement shows me exactly what kind of mother she’ll be: protective, patient, devoted. If I have to have a child, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have raise him.

“Did you know your father? I mean, really know what kind of man he was?”

I think about that for a moment. “He wasn’t a bad father,” I say slowly.

“But I’ve learned that being a good father and being a good person aren’t the same thing.

He took care of us. Taught us everything we needed to survive.

But he was also ruthless when it served his purposes.

A good father, maybe. A good man?” I shake my head. “That’s debatable.”

Her gaze goes distant while I’m speaking, like she’s somewhere else entirely. When I finish, she blinks back to the present, though her eyes remain glassy.

“When Waylen first told Mom about you, I thought she’d disapprove. I expected her to try to talk me out of our relationship. But she was understanding. Almost like she knew what it meant to love someone who wasn’t…”

“A good man?”

She flinches, her hand moving to her stomach again. “I think she knew. About Dad, I mean. What he was involved in.”

“But she loved him anyway.”

“Does that make it right?”

“Maybe not. But love doesn’t always follow moral guidelines.”

She climbs to her feet slowly, exhaustion written in every line of her body. “Thank you for answering my question. Goodnight, Kovan.”

She moves toward the door, and I know I should let her go. Should let her walk away and deal with whatever’s happening between us in the morning when we’re both thinking clearly.

But the moment she passes close enough for me to catch that lavender scent that seems to live in her skin, my control snaps.

I reach out and catch her arm.

She gasps, freezing instantly, her eyes finding mine. “Kovan…”

I can see the war playing out across her face, the same battle I’ve been fighting since the moment I saw that ultrasound.

“I can’t,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be like my mother.”

She’s talking about loving someone despite knowing what they are. Someone who will always put his world before hers, his responsibilities before her happiness.

Someone exactly like me.

So I do the only thing I can do, the only thing that’s fair to either of us.

I let go of her arm.

I let her walk away.

Even if it kills me to do it.