Page 36

RUTHIE

Tension’s rising, and while the rest of the guys I’ve known in the Kopolov family would be on edge, Vadka is steady. Calm. Determined and alert, but a rock.

And I would follow this man to the ends of the earth, I would.

“I have a bag already packed for you and Luka,” he says. “Front hall closet. Are you good to get them?”

Of course he does.

The pain in my ankle has subsided enough by now. It’s still there, but I know we have to move.

I nod, pushing through the lingering ache as I head for the closet. There’s no time for hesitation, no room for weakness.

I can hear Vadka behind me, always present, always watching, ready for whatever comes next .

I find the bags in the closet right away—two duffel bags, one stuffed with folded clothes and toiletries, the other a few toys and various items that would occupy a little boy.

I grab them from the closet, their weight solid in my hand, and turn to find him watching me, his expression unreadable, but his eyes soft.

His gaze drops to Luka, still asleep, now nestled in his arms, the quiet, fragile peace a stark contrast to the world we’re thrust into.

“You’re doing good,” Vadka says quietly, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

I lean my head on his shoulder and look down at the sweet boy asleep in his arms. If I loved Vadka before now, watching him hold his son against his chest, looking down at him with unfettered love and affection, makes me love him even more.

I manage a faint smile, but inside, my heart feels like it’s slamming against my chest. There’s so much uncertainty ahead. So much that could go wrong. But I can’t afford to let any of that show, not now, not in front of Luka.

I take a breath, steadying myself. “Let’s go.”

We move quickly, silently. Vadka’s presence at my back is like a shield, his steady footsteps matching mine as we head toward the car. Luka stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake. The quiet rhythm of his breathing is a small comfort, a reminder of why we’re doing all this. For him.

For our little family.

Our family.

By the time we arrive at the Kopolov estate, everything has shifted.

The air is thick with the weight of what’s to come, but there’s a hushed reverence in the house as everyone gathers.

The atmosphere is heavy with unspoken tension, but also something else—preparedness.

This is what they’ve been waiting for, what they trained for.

After settling little Luka in bed, Vadka moves through the house with ease, a quiet authority about him as he greets everyone, checking in and making sure everything is in place. I can see the respect in the eyes of the men here. They trust him. They know he’s the calm in the storm.

“Luka is having a hard time settling down,” Vadka says in a low voice to me. “He woke up a little.”

“Poor little guy. Let me bring him something to drink.”

I move to the kitchen and prepare a warm cup of milk for him.

It’s a small act, but one that brings a little bit of peace in the midst of all the chaos, and it makes me feel good to mother him.

As I hand him the cup, his sleepy eyes flutter open, and for a moment, it’s just us—no guns, no violence, just him and me.

Luka sips the milk slowly, his little body curling against mine as I stroke his hair, whispering soft words of comfort. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t sense the danger. He just trusts me, like he trusts Vadka. And that’s enough. For now, it’s enough.

I watch his eyelids flutter closed.

I glance over at Vadka, who stands in the doorway, watching us with that protective, quiet intensity of his.

His gaze softens as he sees me holding Luka, and I swear, for a moment, the world seems to slow down.

All the noise, all the urgency, fades away, and I see him—really see him.

Not as my brother-in-law, not as some guy in the Bratva. I see him as… mine .

His eyes are warm, but there’s a hardness to them too. A resolve that comes from everything he’s been through, everything he’s seen. But in this moment, he’s just Vadka. The man who’s going to protect us, no matter what.

My heart swells with a mixture of love and gratitude. He walks over, his steps quiet, purposeful. He crouches down beside me, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from my face. His touch is warm, grounding, and in this moment, with Luka in my arms and Vadka beside me, everything feels right.

For a brief moment, it’s just the three of us, a family.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely above a breath.

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he simply presses his lips to my forehead, a soft, lingering kiss that speaks volumes. His strength, his steadiness—it’s everything I need. Everything I didn’t know I needed until now.

“Let’s get some rest,” he whispers. I’m exhausted.

I look around us as I follow him to the room. Back in the safe house, Rafail had apologized for putting the two of us in a room together.

Would they now? Will they be scandalized if we sleep in the same bed?

Does it matter?

We’re in a bedroom on the first floor, probably so we can be close to Luka, and I don’t have to use the stairs with this damn boot.

Vadka takes our bags and opens the door for us.

It’s quiet and well-furnished, with a sturdy king-sized bed, simple but elegant furniture, and thick blinds to block out the light.

The walls hum with stillness. A pause. A breath.

The bedding is a stunning navy-blue-and-white pattern, heavy and welcoming. That bed looks like heaven after a long day like today.

While he puts our bags away, I walk to the bathroom and wash up for bed.

I come back and find him stripped to his boxers.

Squeee. I feel like I get a sleepover with my boy crush.

The sight of his bare chest, those smoldering eyes, his strong, well-trained body…

He pats the bed beside him. “Bed, baby.”

I stand awkwardly near the edge of the bed, my fingers working the buttons on my shirt. My hands shake more than I expected. Vadka watches from the bed, propped up on an elbow.

“You’re still limping.”

“I’m fine.”

He doesn’t answer but pushes off the bed and walks over to me. My fingers falter. One button left.

He brushes my hands aside. Wordless. Efficient. He undoes the last button and eases the fabric off my shoulder like he’s done this a thousand times in his mind.

I don’t breathe.

His hands are rough and scarred but precise. He doesn’t linger when he shouldn’t, at least not this time.

But I feel everything .

He reaches for the hem of my shirt next. Pauses.

I nod… barely.

He lifts it gently, tugging it over my head and discarding it. Then he kneels and undoes the straps of my ankle brace with care that has no place in this brutal world. Then he slides off my jeans, one leg at a time.

I would say there’s nothing sexual about him undressing me, that he’s taking care of me, that we’re tired and ready to sleep.

But I would be lying. Every interaction with him is sexual.

Every breath he takes turns me on. The back of his hand on my thigh as he has me slide one foot out of the jeans at a time has me molten.

But I’m so damn tired, and so is he; I can see it in the lines of his face and weariness in his movement.

I should feel vulnerable standing in front of him like this. I don’t. I feel… seen.

He pulls back the covers and motions for me to lie down. And when I climb in beside him, all warm and protective beside me, he tucks the blanket around me like I’m something precious.

Like I’m his.

“Sleep, baby,” he says softly, bending to give me a chaste kiss. “We need rest.”

Wordlessly, I lay my head on his chest. His arms encircle me, and I listen to the steady beating of his heart. I let myself relax under the reassuring weight of his arm around me. I sigh, close my eyes, and drift off to sleep.

I wake the next day to Vadka leaving the bed.

“Up and at ’em, Ruthie,” he says with a grim smile. “We’re training today.”

“Training?”

“Training. We need to prepare.”