Page 42

RUTHIE

The night air is colder than I expected.

Concrete beneath bare feet. Wind tugging at the hem of the shirt I stole from him again. My pulse still hasn’t calmed down—not since the test. Not since I said the words out loud. Not since he fucked me boneless.

It’s positive.

And he held me like I wasn’t a mistake.

Now I can’t sleep, not with the weight of everything bearing down on me.

I find him where I knew he’d be—on the roof. Silent. Still. A sniper rifle rests across his lap like a sleeping beast. His eyes are on the dark tree line beyond the estate walls. He doesn’t flinch when I come up behind him.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he says .

I wrap my arms around myself. “So are you.”

He doesn’t turn. Just pats the ledge beside him. I sit.

Quiet stretches between us.

“I didn’t think this would be my life,” I murmur. “This—hunted. Pregnant.” I wink at him. “Wrapped up in a Bratva god’s war plans.”

“You’re not wrapped up in it,” he says. “You’re at the center of it now.”

That makes me laugh, bitter and small.

“I didn’t want to matter this much.”

His head turns just slightly, enough for me to see the muscle ticking in his jaw.

“You always did. Remember what Mariah used to tell you, Ruthie. Don’t make yourself small for anyone. Not me, not even yourself.”

I nod. He’s right. I know he is.

We sit in silence again, and I lay my head on his shoulder. I like how it feels sitting with him like this.

Then, like a live wire?—

“I’m scared,” I whisper.

“Good.” He finally looks at me. “That means you understand the stakes.”

I meet his gaze. “And if I run?”

“I’ll find you.” He says it without heat. Without threat. Just fact. “But I don’t think you will. ”

“Why not?”

He studies me for a long time. Then, “Because for the first time in your life, you’ve got something to protect that’s bigger than your fear.”

I look down at my hands, curled around the faint swell of my belly.

My throat closes. The wind moves between us, but he’s warm beside me. Solid.

So I lean in. Instinctively, his arm comes around my shoulders. And for a moment, the war doesn’t matter.

We sit like that until the sky turns gray.

I lie curled beside Vadka, more at peace than I have ever been in my life.

His warmth seeps into my skin, calming the chaos in my veins, and for a moment, it feels like maybe—just maybe—we're safe. But I know it won't last. It can’t. Not with the hounds of hell snapping at our heels. He says we’re at war, but what does that even mean? What does war look like in this world?

I’ve lived close enough to this world that I thought I understood it. I told myself I knew what it was to be part of something dark, something brutal. But I was wrong. I didn’t know. I still don’t.

“I love you,” he whispers, his lips brushing the curve of my ear.

“I love you so much. Listen… if we had more time—if we could do this a different way—I would've done it right. But you're having a baby, and there’s one thing I can tell you about the world I live in—things happen fast. We move fast. We don’t have the luxury of slow decisions. We've got more on the line than the average human,” he says, giving me that cr ooked smile that’s equal parts apology and warning and so sweet and hot my chest warms.

I think of his little boy sleeping in the next room and the tiny life growing inside me. Our baby. A mix of both of us. “How do we protect them?” I ask, my voice wobbling with fear I can’t hide. “I don’t even know how to be a mother… You know I didn’t have a good example, and you know why?—”

“We don’t do it alone,” he cuts in, voice rough, almost growling. “We have family. Protection. Yeah, we’re in danger—I won’t sugarcoat it—but we’re not in this alone. Look at Luka. Who took care of him when it was just us? When we needed someone?”

He’s right. His brothers did. All of them. They stepped in, no hesitation. Because that’s what family does. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being around his world, it’s this: They protect each other with fire and fury.

People like to say it takes a village. But for the Kopolov Bratva, it takes an army.

His phone buzzes—once, twice, three times, harsh and insistent. A jarring reminder that his time isn’t his own anymore. And because I’m with him now, neither is mine. He answers to Rafail. To the call. To the cause. And I’m only beginning to grasp what that means.

He glances down at the screen, brows knitting. “Zoya?” he says aloud, confusion slicing through the air like a blade. Not one of his brothers. That alone makes my stomach twist with dread .

He holds my gaze as he taps the answer button and puts it on speaker. “Zoya, I’m here. I’m with Ruthie.”

Her voice is shattered, full of tears. “Vadka…” she sobs. I sit up straighter, my heartbeat pounding in my throat.

He stills beside me, his body going tense, every muscle drawn tight as steel wire. His voice drops, low and lethal. “What happened?”

“The warehouse,” she chokes. “They attacked the warehouse. Rafail was there, Vadka. They all were?—”

My hand flies to my mouth, and my heart slams against my ribs.

“Which warehouse?” he asks, terrifyingly calm.

“The one Semyon took over. Across from Anya’s bakery. Near the wharf. It’s in flames. No one’s answering their phones. I ran… I found my phone, and I called you. You were the first— I didn’t know who else?—”

“I’m on my way. Stay calm. Where are you now?”

She tells him. He stands, looks me in the eyes, and it’s like the air between us thickens, scorches.

“I have to go.”

“I’ll go with you?—”

“ No .”

I flinch. He’s never raised his voice to me before. But this man before me… he’s something else now. An avenging angel, eyes blazing, fury radiating off him in waves so intense I almost step back. Even though I love him—god, I love him—I can barely breathe in the face of that storm .

He climbs onto the bed, kneeling so we’re face to face, his hand reaching out.

“My son is in the next room. And you—you’re carrying our baby.” He points at me, deadly serious. “Protect them, Ruthie. That’s your job. While I go find my brothers.”

I reach out, pressing my palm to his chest. “I don’t want you to go.” My voice cracks. “There has to be another way. Someone else?—”

“She called me. Because she trusts me. This is what it means.”

Protection. Love. Loyalty. Family. And all the danger that comes with it.

I watch him arm himself—gun, blade, phone, keys. His whole body humming with violent purpose.

“Believe me when I tell you,” he says, head down, not looking at me, “I don’t want to leave you. But it’s the only way to keep you safe right now. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Of course.”

I grab his shirt, yank him down to me, and kiss him. Hard. Bruising. A kiss full of desperation and rage and aching love. I want to be the last thing he feels. The only thing he remembers.

“Come back to me,” I command.

He bows his head, a vow in the dark. “I will, baby. I will.”

But isn’t that what they all say?

I watch him walk out that door, and I’m left clutching my knees to my chest, nausea rolling through me in waves. Only this time, I’m not sure I can blame the pregnancy.

I need to do something. I can’t sit here helpless. But I don’t know how to help. I’m new to all of this. The Bratva, their ways, their war—I’m still learning. Still fumbling.

I place a hand on my belly and try to picture the life growing inside me. A piece of him. Of us. A little girl with his eyes, maybe. Full pink lips. Will she look like my sister? My nephew?

I rise quietly and walk to Luka’s room. He’s sprawled in bed, one arm flung above his head, sleeping deep and trustful. I kneel beside him, brushing his hair from his forehead.

“I miss you, Mariah,” I whisper into the quiet. “We’re at war now. Things aren’t safe here.”

I climb into his bed and slide under the blanket, curling myself around Luka’s small body. Cocooning him. Protecting him with my presence, with my body.

“I don’t know what else to do but this,” I whisper. “I love Luka. I love Vadka. And I will protect them however I can.”

I press a kiss to Luka’s head, close my eyes, and beg for sleep. But when it comes, it’s full of screams—my sister’s cries, blood on the floor of the bar, and the sound of Vadka’s sobs as he shattered.