14. Lacey
14
LACEY
THREE DAYS LATER
I flip through the mail in my hands, my heart skipping when I spot Dr. Chen's letterhead. My fingers tremble as I hold up the envelope. "Vadim..."
He looks up from his desk, tension immediately tightening his shoulders when he sees what I'm holding. Rising, he crosses the room to stand behind me, his chest pressed against my back. His hands cover mine as I start to open the letter.
"Whatever it says," I whisper, "we'll face it together."
The paper rustles as I unfold it, Dr. Chen's precise handwriting filling the page. My eyes scan until I find the key information: "Blood tests indicate conception approximately 6 weeks prior to testing date..."
Vadim and I both freeze, mental calculations spinning. Six weeks before the test would place conception right before Paris. Before everything went wrong.
It was that night when he first told me about his mother after he gave me Mom's necklace, when I saw past his carefully constructed walls to the wounded boy beneath. When I realized he wasn't just a pakhan, but a man fighting to save others from monsters like Kirsan.
I remember how desperately I wanted to comfort him, to show him he deserved love. And I remember how we made love. First on his desk, and then again in the shower.
Vadim lets out a shaky breath, his arms tightening around me.
"Six weeks," he murmurs, relief evident in his voice. "We didn't make our baby on the stairs."
But where Vadim finds relief, all I find is a new terror as a different memory washes over me.
The sharp crack of gunfire. The triumphant smile on Irina's face before blood starts spreading across her body. Her eyes meeting mine as she fell. Her blood soaking through my wedding dress as I screamed. And the light fading from her eyes as Vadim dragged me away.
The memory hits me with such force that I have to grip the edge of Vadim's desk to stay upright. My other hand instinctively moves to my stomach.
My legs give out, and Vadim guides me into his chair.
That means… My breath catches as I think. Our baby was already growing inside of me in Paris.
"I could've lost both of you," I whisper, my hand pressed protectively over my still-flat belly. "If Sayanaa's men had better aim... if we had just been a few seconds slower..."
Vadim kneels before me, his large hands covering mine. "But we did make it."
I can't stop the memories rushing back at me now. The way Sayanaa's eyes narrowed in the cathedral. The men trying to kill us on the Seine. Irina's blood on my hands.
Our child's first moments were surrounded by death and violence.
Even if they weren't conceived in it.
Vadim pulls me close into his embrace, his thumb stroking over my shoulder as I shudder.
Even as his touch warms me, I can't help but notice how carefully he moves, like he's afraid of breaking me. The same hesitation I've felt from him since returning to Pankration is still there.
We may have bridged the physical distance between us, but something still feels fragile.
His gray eyes meet mine, and I see the guilt we're both carrying.
"You're still afraid of hurting me," I say softly. It's not a question.
His fingers tighten slightly on mine. "And you're still blaming yourself for everything that's happened."
And that's the truth.
We're both still holding back the deeper hurts. Physical intimacy was easier than facing the emotional wreckage we're both carrying.
"We're so worried about hurting each other." I try to smile, but it wavers. "But we can't even stop hurting ourselves."
Vadim presses his forehead to mine, and I feel the slight tremor in his body. "We'll figure it out, zvyozdochka . I promise."
I nod as I turn my attention back to the pile of mail.
My heart stops as I spot the envelope among the scattered mail, addressed in an elegant script: "Dear Little Thief."
"Vadim." My voice comes out barely above a whisper.
He looks up from Dr. Chen's letter, his expression immediately darkening when he sees what I'm holding. Before I can blink, he snatches the envelope from my trembling fingers.
"Don't," he growls, holding it up to the light. His hands move with practiced precision as he examines the edges and seams. "It could be rigged."
"It's from her, isn't it?"
I don't need to specify who.
Vadim frowns, turning the envelope over. "It's too light to be an explosive." His jaw clenches. "But that doesn't mean it's safe."
He retrieves a letter opener from his desk and carefully slits the top edge. Nothing happens. Slowly, he tips the contents onto his desk.
Two items fall out: a folded piece of paper and a single bullet that lands with a dull thud.
My hand instinctively moves to protect my stomach as I stare at the bullet. Vadim's face has gone completely still—that dangerous stillness I've learned means he's barely containing his rage.
The bullet gleams mockingly in the afternoon light streaming through his office windows. My hand instinctively moves to my stomach as I stare at it.
Vadim's fingers close around the bullet, his knuckles white. "I won't let her hurt you," he growls.
My hands tremble as I unfold the letter, the heavy cream paper rustling between my fingers.
Dear Little Thief,
Consider this a souvenir from Paris. I thought you might like to know it was me who pulled the trigger. My only regret is that I missed you and hit that bitch instead.
But don't worry. I'll have another chance soon enough. Until then, feel free to keep this bullet that was meant for you.
Next time, I won't miss.
By the way, congratulations on the whelp in your belly. Such happy news! And I must say, I do love the challenge of hitting a small target.
Until we meet again,
Sayanaa
The letter slips from my numb fingers. My stomach heaves and I barely make it to the wastebasket before retching. Vadim's hands are instantly there, pulling my hair back as I empty what little is in my stomach.
When the heaving finally stops, I become aware of Vadim speaking softly in Russian—not to me, but into his phone. His other hand hasn't left my back, moving in gentle circles as I try to catch my breath.
"She killed Irina," I whisper. "She was aiming for me but killed Irina instead."
My hand presses against my stomach, tears blurring my vision as the full weight of Sayanaa's threat crashes over me. Not just me anymore but my baby. The child Vadim and I created that night when everything still felt pure and right.
Sayanaa could've killed my child before I even knew I was pregnant.
My heart twists at the thought of her extinguishing my baby's life so cruelly and callously.
My hands press protectively over my stomach as I think about those words. The whelp in your belly... I do love the challenge...
No, she still wants to.
"She'll never get close enough," Vadim growls, his arms wrapping around me from behind. "I swear it."
But we both know what that means. The walls of Pankration that once felt like a prison now become my only shield.
My world shrinks to these marble halls and gilded rooms.
"I can't leave, can I?" My voice comes out small, defeated.
Vadim's arms tighten around me. "Not until we end this. Not until she's dead."
I lean back against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat ground me. Through the window, I watch guards patrolling the grounds, their weapons visible even from here. More will come, I know. Vadim won't take any chances with our safety.
"I should've known she wouldn't just let us go," I whisper. "That night in Paris, when she looked at me in the cathedral... I saw it in her eyes. This was always her plan."
Vadim's hand covers mine where it rests on my stomach. "We'll find her," he promises. "She won't hide forever."
But I hear what he doesn't say—that until then, I'm trapped here. That our child's first months of life will be spent behind these walls and armed guards. That the freedom I thought I'd chosen has become another cage.
Only this time, the bars aren't just to keep me in.
They're to keep Sayanaa out.
But then, another question surfaces in my mind, and I ask before I can stop myself. "How..." My voice cracks. "How does she know I'm pregnant?"
Vadim's silence tells me he's wondering the same thing. I watch his face as the realization hits him, his jaw tightening.
"Dr. Chen," I whisper. "Either Sayanaa or her spies must have seen her coming here."
My stomach lurches again, but this time not from morning sickness. If Sayanaa's watching Pankration closely enough to spot Dr. Chen's visits...
"Megan." The name comes out as a strangled gasp. "Oh God, she was just here."
My hands start trembling as I think about my sister walking right into Sayanaa's sights. Sweet, fierce Megan who's already risking everything to help expose Kirsan's operation. Who has no idea there's a monster watching her every move.
And if Sayanaa can find Megan...
"Dad," I choke out, gripping Vadim's arm. "Freddy. If she knows about Megan, she'll find them too." The thought of Sayanaa getting anywhere near my family makes my blood run cold. "They don't know what she's capable of. They won't see her coming."
Images flash through my mind—Dad sitting helpless in his favorite chair, unable to speak or defend himself. Freddy, for all his faults, completely unprepared for someone like Sayanaa.
My family might be dysfunctional, but they're still my family. And now they're in danger because of me.
"We have to bring them here," I say, my voice steadier than I expect. "Dad and Freddy. They need to be somewhere safe."
Vadim nods, already reaching for his phone. "I'll send men right now?—"
"No." I grab his wrist. "I need to go get them myself."
His eyes narrow. "Absolutely not. You saw Sayanaa's threat."
"Dad won't just let your men take him," I explain. "And Freddy..." I let out a bitter laugh. "Freddy would sooner pull a gun than listen to reason. Especially with all of his gambling debts…"
"Then I'll go myself," Vadim counters. "I can bring Megan?—"
"No!" The word comes out sharper than I intend. "I won't put my sister in danger. Not when Sayanaa might already know about her."
"And I won't put you or our child at risk." Vadim's hand covers mine where it still rests protectively over my stomach.
"They're my family," I whisper. "Dad won't understand unless I'm there to explain. And Freddy... for all his faults, he's still my brother. I need to be the one to tell them."
" Zvyozdochka ..." Vadim's voice holds a warning.
"Please." I meet his eyes. "You can bring as many men as you want. But it has to be me that does this."
Slowly, Vadim's resistance crumbles, his shoulders dropping slightly as he lets out a heavy breath. "Fine. But we do this my way."
My heart pounds as the reality of what we're about to do sinks in. Getting Dad and Freddy to safety means exposing them to the truth about my life now. About Vadim. About everything.
Dad's dementia makes him vulnerable, but in some ways that might be easier. It's Freddy I'm truly dreading. My gambling addict of a brother who's stolen everything he could from our family, who's made it his mission to remind me I don't belong.
"We'll need to be careful how we approach this," I say, unconsciously pressing my hand against my stomach. "If Freddy feels cornered, he'll lash out. And Dad... some days he barely remembers who I am."
Vadim's fingers intertwine with mine. "Tell me what you need."
"Time," I whisper. "And patience. Lots of patience."
My stomach churns as I think about facing Freddy again. The last time I saw him, he was stealing from Dad's house while hurling insults at me.
"Two years you’ve been fucking that banker, and not a single goddamn penny to show for it."
I feel my hands shaking—whether from nerves or rage, I can't tell—as I recall how I didn't have the guts to stand up to him. How all I could do is imagine the words I wanted to shout at him.
Now I have to convince him to accept protection from my bratva husband while a psychotic woman hunts us all.
The weight of what we're about to do settles heavy in my chest as I realize that I'm about to confront the messy truth of who I've become.
A pakhan's wife caught in a war I never asked for but can't escape.