Page 27 of Watched and Bred By the Bratva

Zara gasps, one hand flying to her lips before her laugh breaks free and she sways against me. “A boy!” She beams, stunned. “We’re having a son, Kolya.”

I crush her softly to my side, lips against her hair, because if I hold her any tighter I might scare her. Joy claws through my chest so fierce it steals my air.

A boy.

My boy.

For a moment, I can’t speak, can only breathe in her warmth as she clings to me. And every vow I ever made, I make again. Louder. Fiercer. Eternal.

My son will never know hunger. He’ll never know fear. No one will lay a hand on him unless it’s in love. He will be strong enough to guard his sisters, his family. He will be cherished. Never broken, never tested the way I was. I’ll kill the world itself if it dares to try.

I lift Zara’s hand and kiss her knuckles as the noise swells around us. “A son,” I say hoarsely. “Our son.”

She cries into my chest, happy tears trembling down both our cheeks.

At the far table, Maxim throws back his drink and mutters, “God help us. Another Ismailov.” Zara hears it and just laughs harder.

Zara strokes my hair as if she knows I’ll never stop whispering my vows to our son. She shuts her eyes in peace, as we drift contentedly.

“Maxim never came back.”

I grunt. “He was drunk. Better he found a room to pass out in.”

Her lips curve. “Or someone to pass out with.”

I tilt my head up, catch her smirk, and kiss it from her mouth. “Whoever it was, God have mercy on her soul. He won’t.”

She laughs softly, runs her hand through my hair again. But even as she drifts toward sleep, my mind flickers with unease. Maxim gone. Laura gone. A pale dress disappearing past the corridor. Coincidence? Did the mouse stalk the lion?

I press my mouth once more to her stomach.

“Our son first,” I whisper.

“Everything else can burn.”