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YULIAN

It’s not Desya’s bullet that brings me to my knees.

It’s Mia.

Her arms close around my waist. She’s a wisp of a woman, but the weight of her urgency knocks me off-balance. I remember hearing about the strength of mothers in a crisis, lifting cars to save their kids, beating impossible odds to save someone they love.

It’s her love, more than anything, that floors me.

Literally.

My back hits the ground. The impact knocks the breath out of my lungs, but only for a second.

Then I’m springing into action.

I shield Mia with my body and whip out my gun.

But Desya’s melted back in the crowd, invisible. A ghost—never there.

He was there, though. The shot he fired, the panic in the crowd… all those things are real.

Just like Mia’s terror.

“Oh, my.” Desya’s voice rings out from somewhere in the crowd, dripping with mockery. “That couldn’t have been good for the baby.”

My head whirls around, searching for the source.

But at that moment, Mia makes a pained sound in my arms.

The baby, I realize.

I check Mia over. “Are you hurt?” I hate the edge of panic in my voice, but I can’t seem to keep it off. It’s all too fucking familiar, hitting way too close to home.

“I-I’m fine?—”

“No, you’re not.” My tone is ice. “Show me where it hurts.”

Wordlessly, she points at her belly.

My heart sinks. I don’t see any bullet wounds on her, no blood anywhere, but that doesn’t mean anything. She’s pregnant—she could be bleeding in places I cannot see.

The crowd is scattering, screaming, giving us a wide berth. It leaves us completely exposed. “ Blyat’, ” I curse under my breath, pulling Mia closer.

“Yulian!” It’s Maksim, rushing towards us. “I’ve got you. You’re covered.”

Thank fucking God. “Tell me who got shot.”

“Uh, that would be me,” Tikhon chimes in weakly. “Don’t worry, it’s just a flesh wound.”

My eyes flick to the graze in his side to make sure he’s telling the truth.

Luckily, he is. Good . The last thing I want is to lose my chief engineer and another one of my men to Desya’s sick revenge plot.

But that means he’s still around. He hasn’t gotten his body yet.

As if on cue, his voice rings out again. “She didn’t need to do that, you know, Yul. That bullet wasn’t meant for you.”

No, I realize. It was meant for her.

Rage roars through me. “You fucking coward.”

“Now, who’s the one who goes around tying bricks to people’s ankles?”

Shit. I’m not going to get anything done with my focus split like this. On one hand, I’ve got Desya taunting me, distracting me from his next move; on the other, Mia is now writhing in my arms, trying hard to hide the pain.

“Maks,” I say, “take the left side. I’ll take the right.”

“Yes, pakhan .”

“Tikhon.” I grab my spare gun and thrust it in his trembling hands. “Stay with Mia.”

“S-sure thing, boss.”

“And call a goddamn ambulance.”

Mia’s hand grips mine. “Don’t leave me,” she begs, delirious.

It breaks me. Utterly fucking breaks me. “I’ll be back,” I promise, propping her up against the wall, quietly out of sight. “Trust me.”

Slowly, her fingers ease up. “Okay,” she whispers.

Then I’m back into the fray.

The elevator is backed up. People are flooding towards the staircase, but there’s too many of them and not enough room. The rooftop is still full of staff, guests, bodyguards.

He didn’t go to any of the other rooftops. I clench my fist in rage. Failure burns down my throat like acid. He smelled my trap. He didn’t snipe us—he disguised himself as one of us and came straight here to deliver his bullet.

I underestimated him.

Again.

“What the hell do you want?!”

It’s a pathetic attempt, but it works. “Let’s see,” he teases. If there’s one thing Desya could never resist, it’s the chance to monologue. “I want you back where you belong. And, of course, I want your bitch dead.”

Fury flares in me, but victory flares harder.

Gotcha.

I follow the voice, reach into the crowd, and yank a waiter to the ground by his collar.

A single eye stares back up at me from the terrace floor. “That was cheating.”

“Shut up.” I cock my gun and aim it. “You’re done.”

“Yeah?” he grins, whipping out his weapon. “Wanna bet?”

Then he aims it at Mia.

Time stops.

In the split-second of my decision, the two halves of me war with each other.

Kill him, shouts the pakhan. It’s the rational thing to do—the smart thing to do. Take this chance, avenge my loved ones, put an end to this nightmare once and for all.

But the other part of me disagrees.

Save her, screams the man.

I drop my stance and rush to Mia.

I grab her around the chest and push her to the ground. She cries out in pain, but I can’t think about that right now. Her comfort is second to her life.

I press her head in the crook of my neck and wait.

No gunshot rings out this time.

A trap, I realize. It was a fucking trap.

The second I’m up again, he’s already in the stairwell.

I’m about to go after him when?—

“ Argh! ” Mia starts writhing on the ground, clutching her belly.

Duty wars inside me. My duty to my Bratva, to my revenge—to my dead family. And to my other family, too.

“Yulian!” Maksim shouts. “He’s getting away!”

He’s trying to follow Desya, but the crowd, which parted in terror for him, isn’t doing Maksim the same favor.

On the ground, a dark pool spreads under Mia’s dress. That’s what shocks me into action.

I put my gun down and lift Mia into my arms. “Let’s go.”

“Please,” she whispers incoherently. “Don’t let our baby die.”

She clings to me with all she’s got. My woman—the mother of my child.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” It’s a promise. A vow. “To either of you.”

And this time, no one is going to stop me from keeping it.