Chapter 27
Zita
The gunfire from downstairs has been growing closer for the past twenty minutes, with each burst of automatic weapons telling me Viktor and our remaining men are being forced back through the house toward our position.
Crouched behind the heavy oak dresser that Tigran positioned for maximum protection, I clutch the pistol he gave me while trying to control my breathing and the panic threatening to overwhelm me.
Six months pregnant with sextuplets, wearing a bulletproof vest that’s too big and holding a weapon I haven’t fired in months, isn’t how I imagined I’d be defending my family.
The tank shell that destroyed our panic room entrance forced me into this position, and now I’m trapped in the middle of a war zone while carrying six children who deserve to be born into peace.
“They’re pushing hard up both stairwells.” Viktor’s voice crackles through Tigran’s radio from somewhere below us. “I can hold the east approach, but the west side is compromised. Multiple hostiles advancing toward the second floor.”
Tigran keys his radio while maintaining his position near the bedroom doorway. “Fall back to the central hallway if you have to. Don’t let them surround you down there.”
“Copy that. Be advised, Avgar is with the main assault group. He’s coming for you personally.”
The confirmation that our primary enemy is advancing toward our position chills me. This isn’t just about eliminating the Belsky organization. Avgar Federoff wants to finish this personally, to look Tigran in the eyes while he destroys everything.
I press myself lower behind the dresser, my expanded belly making even simple movements awkward and slow.
The weight of six babies shifts inside me as I try to find a position that provides cover while letting me see what’s happening around me.
My hands shake as I grip the pistol, muscle memory from years-old training fighting against months of inactivity and the reality that I’m about to use this weapon to kill people.
“Stay exactly where you are and don’t move unless I specifically tell you to.” Tigran’s voice is calm but carries authority that doesn’t allow for argument. “If someone gets past me, you know what to do.”
“I remember the basics.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel. “Breathe, sight alignment, and squeeze, don’t pull.”
“That’s right. You don’t have to be perfect, just effective at close range.”
The sound of boots on the main staircase tells us the assault has reached the second floor. Through the bedroom doorway, I see muzzle flashes lighting up the hallway as Viktor engages multiple targets from his defensive position near the opposite stairwell.
“Contact east side!” Viktor’s voice carries over the gunfire. “Three hostiles down but more are coming up behind them!”
“West side movement,” Tigran calls back while taking aim through the doorway. “I see four advancing through the main hallway.”
What follows is the most intense firefight I’ve ever witnessed—of the two I’ve witnessed, counting the day in my dad’s office.
The professional soldiers advance through our home while Tigran and Viktor coordinate their defense despite being outnumbered and outgunned.
The confined space of the hallway works in our favor, creating chokepoints that prevent the Federoffs from using their numerical advantage effectively.
Tigran moves with lethal precision, every shot calculated and deliberate as he eliminates threats while maintaining cover. His training shows in the way he conserves ammunition, anticipates enemy movements, and how he protects both his own position and mine simultaneously.
“Reloading.” Viktor’s shout carries urgency as his position comes under heavy fire.
“I’ve got your cover.” Tigran increases his rate of fire, forcing the advancing soldiers to take cover while Viktor changes magazines.
Through the chaos and smoke, I catch glimpses of enemy soldiers advancing through the hallway, their movements professional but hampered by the defensive advantages Tigran has established.
Bodies fall on both sides, but our superior positioning and knowledge of the layout keep us alive despite overwhelming odds.
Then the gunfire from Viktor’s position stops abruptly.
“Viktor, report?” Tigran keys his radio while continuing to engage targets.
Static. No response.
“Viktor?”
More static, then a different voice comes through the radio. It’s older, accented, and carrying cold satisfaction. “Viktor is finished, Belsky. It’s just you and your pregnant wife now.”
Avgar Federoff’s voice through Viktor’s radio makes me tremble not just from fear but also rage. He’s killed Tigran’s Sovietnik and now, he’s taunting us with it, trying to break my husband’s concentration before the final assault.
“You want me, Avgar?” Tigran’s voice carries deadly calm as he adjusts his position to cover both stairwell approaches alone. “Stop hiding behind your soldiers and come face me yourself.”
“Oh, I’m coming.” Avgar’s voice grows louder as he advances up the main staircase. “I’m bringing something special for your wife and those babies she’s carrying too.”
The threat against our children makes me vibrate with rage. This man isn’t just trying to kill us. He’s specifically targeting our unborn children, who’ve never done anything except grow inside me while we fought to build a future for them.
“He’s not just threatening us.” I keep my voice low enough that only Tigran can hear. “He’s threatening the babies specifically.”
“I know.” Tigran’s jaw tightens as he prepares for what’s coming. “Stay behind that cover no matter what happens. If he gets past me, you empty that magazine into him and don’t stop until he’s dead.”
“What if you—”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He cuts off my question with absolute certainty. “We’re both walking out of this room, and our children are going to be born into a world where Avgar Federoff doesn’t exist.”
The sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway tells us the final confrontation is beginning. Through the doorway, I can see movement as Avgar advances with his remaining soldiers, their shadows dancing in the smoke and dim light filtering through our damaged home.
“Tigran Belsky!” Avgar’s voice carries the fanatic intensity of a man who sees this confrontation as the culmination of years of planning.
“I’m going to kill your pregnant wife so you can get the full Belsky experience of watching a beloved spouse die, just like your father.
Then I’ll execute you after you’ve suffered for a while. ”
The graphic threat against me and our children pushes Tigran past any restraint he might have maintained. He steps into the doorway with his weapon raised, no longer concerned with defensive positioning but focused on eliminating the man who just threatened to murder his family.
“Come and try!” After a brief pause, he starts shooting at multiple targets simultaneously.
Avgar advances through the hallway with three remaining soldiers, their movements coordinated but desperate as they realize this assault isn’t going according to plan.
Bodies fall on both sides as the confined space turns into a killing ground, where superior positioning matters more than superior numbers.
I watch in horror and fascination as Tigran fights like a man possessed, every shot designed to protect me and our children from people who want to destroy us. His movements are fluid and deadly, combining years of training with protective fury to create something terrifying and beautiful.
One soldier breaks through the defensive fire, advancing toward my position with his weapon trained on where I’m hidden.
My training takes over despite months of inactivity and the awkwardness of my pregnancy.
I rise from behind cover, my sight alignment automatic despite my shaking hands, and fire twice at center mass.
The recoil surprises me after so much time away from practice, but both shots land just beneath the edge of his chest plate—one in the lower abdomen, and the other near the femoral artery. He stumbles, drops his rifle, and collapses to the ground, bleeding out fast.
I stare at what I’ve done while adrenaline floods my system. I’ve never killed anyone before, but protecting my children from someone who wanted to murder them makes the choice feel inevitable rather than horrifying.
“Stay down,” Tigran shouts as another soldier tries to flank around his position.
I drop back behind cover as more gunfire erupts, the sound deafening in the confined space of our bedroom. Through the chaos, Avgar shouts orders to his remaining men, his voice carrying increasing desperation as his numerical advantage disappears.
Another soldier falls to Tigran’s precise shooting, then another, until finally the gunfire stops and an eerie silence settles over our home. Through the smoke and cordite smell, Tigran maintains his position while scanning for remaining threats.
“Is that all of them?” I ask quietly.
“Not yet.” Tigran’s voice carries grim certainty. “Avgar’s still alive.”
As if summoned by his name, movement in the hallway reveals our primary enemy.
Avgar Federoff steps into view, blood streaming from a wound on his forehead where shrapnel has cut him, his weapon trained on Tigran’s position.
He’s older than his photographs suggested, with scars that speak to a lifetime of violence and eyes that burn with hatred focused specifically on destroying everything we love.
“Just you and me now, Belsky.” Avgar’s voice carries the satisfaction of a man who believes he’s finally achieved his goal. “Your men are dead, your defenses are broken, and your pregnant wife is about to watch you die before I kill her. I can live with swapping your death slots.”
“My wife is about to watch you die.” Tigran adjusts his aim without flinching. “She’s stronger than you think, and I’m better than you hoped.”
“We’ll see about that.” Avgar’s finger tightens on his trigger. “Your father thought he was better too, right before I had him killed.”
The revelation that Avgar was behind Nicky’s death as well as everything that followed makes Tigran stiffen.
I can see the rage building in his expression, a fury that could make him careless at the worst possible moment.
“He’s lying,” I say quickly. “Your father died of natural causes in the hospital.”
“Did he?” Avgar continues, clearly enjoying the psychological warfare. “I’ve been planning the destruction of your family for years. I paid a nurse to kill your father. Now, I’ve come for your wife, your unborn children, and you. When I’m done, the Belsky bloodline will be gone forever.”
“Maybe you killed my father. If so…I don’t care. I could have let that go, but you made a mistake.” Tigran’s voice remains deadly calm despite the rage I know he’s feeling.
“What mistake?” Avgar seems disappointed that Tigran is calm and didn’t overreact in fury at the thought he might have killed Nicky, which I still don’t believe. Why bother when Nicky was dying already?
“You threatened my family.” Tigran’s next shot is perfectly placed, catching Avgar in the shoulder and spinning him around. “Now you’re going to pay for every threat, every attack, and every moment of fear and pain you’ve caused the woman I love.”
Avgar staggers but doesn’t fall, his weapon still dangerous despite his wound. Blood flows freely from his shoulder, but his gaze remains focused and deadly as he tries to bring his gun to bear on Tigran’s position.
“Your children will grow up knowing their father was too weak to protect them.” Avgar’s voice carries vicious satisfaction even through his pain. “They’ll know their parents couldn’t save them from—”
I don’t let him finish the threat against our unborn children.
Moving on pure protective instinct that has nothing to do with training or practice, I rise from behind cover and fire before he can complete his aim.
My shot catches him in the side of the neck, driving him backward against the hallway wall.
Tigran follows immediately with another shot that drops Avgar to his knees, but the man still isn’t finished. With his last breath, he looks directly at me with hatred that makes my skin crawl.
My shot didn’t hit his vocal cords unfortunately. “Your children will carry the stain of this violence for their entire lives.” His words are meant to haunt me, to plant doubt about the world we’re bringing them into. “They’ll grow up knowing their mother is a killer who—”
I silence him permanently with a final shot through the forehead, delivered with frigid accuracy from the absolute commitment to protecting what matters most. Avgar Federoff collapses to the floor of our home, his hatred dying with him in the wreckage of his failed ambition.
The house falls completely silent except for the distant sound of sirens and the settling of damaged furniture. Through the broken windows, I can see dawn breaking over our estate, golden light illuminating the destruction that marks the end of our war.
“It’s over.” Tigran moves to check Avgar’s body, ensuring the threat is permanently ended before holstering his weapon. “The war is finally over.”
I remain behind my cover for several moments, staring at the man who spent months planning our destruction, who saw our love as weakness and our partnership as a flaw to exploit. He died without understanding that what we’ve built together made us stronger than anything he could bring against us.
“He was wrong about our children.” I rest my hand on my belly. “They won’t carry the stain of this violence. They’ll carry the legacy of parents who were willing to fight for them.”
“They’ll know their mother is the strongest person I’ve ever met.” Tigran moves to help me up from my protected position, his hands gentle despite the adrenaline still coursing through both of us. “They’ll know love is worth fighting for.”
As we stand together in the wreckage of our bedroom, surrounded by evidence of the battle that finally ended the Federoff threat, we’ve proven something fundamental about who we are and what we’ve built together.
We’re not just survivors of violence. We’re people who can transform that violence into protection and use strength to create rather than destroy.
The cycle of revenge that might have continued through our children ends here.
Our children will be born into peace because their parents loved each other enough to end a war.
They’ll grow up knowing that real strength comes from protecting what you love, that true partnership can overcome any obstacle, and that some things are worth fighting for no matter the cost.