Chapter 44 #2
And I hear the collective sigh of relief that we all release at once. Queenie isn’t just some cat Viktor brought home. She’s family, just as much as these men are family to each other. Family isn’t about blood ties—it’s about love and an unbreakable bond.
Grigory strides into the office at that moment—he rushed off as soon as Viktor told him that Queenie is critically ill. Grigory is holding a bag from the toy store, and he thrusts it at Viktor.
Viktor takes it with a frown. Slowly, he opens the bag and pulls out a toy cat. It’s similar to the one he bought for Sofia. “What’s this, Grigory?” Suddenly, Viktor’s expression becomes scary. “If you’re fucking saying I can replace Queenie with another cat, I’m going to goddamn stab—”
“No! That’s not what this is,” Grigory interjects.
He drags a hand through his hair. “I was worried that Queenie might be feeling…lonely at the clinic without any of her family around her. I thought maybe you could take this toy cat into her, so she has someone soft to snuggle with…because, uh, we all know how much she likes her snuggles.” He shifts from foot to foot.
“And I thought that it might help reassure Sofia a little too if she knows that Queenie isn’t by herself… ”
Viktor’s eyebrows shoot up. “You went to that fucking zoo called a toy store?”
Grigory nods.
“For Queenie?” Viktor croaks.
“Um, yeah. But also for you, dumbass.” Grigory blinks slowly. “I want you to know that we’re here for you, Vik.”
“I can’t believe you actually went to the toy store,” Viktor murmurs.
“Yeah, and like you said, it was hell on earth. Full of sugared-up kids and their stressed-out parents,” Grigory replies.
“I don’t know what to say…” Viktor’s voice trails off, but I can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s touched deeply.
Sofia sleeps for most of the rest of the morning, worn out from crying. Even Leon doesn’t seem his usual bubbly self as we spend time on the floor with a few of the toy trucks and his blocks.
But Viktor is right there for them both, making sure Sofia has the weighted blanket and the stuffed cat he bought her and letting Leon lie on his chest.
“I have an update,” he says softly as Sofia lifts her head from the sofa where she’s now watching her comfort movie, The Lion King, on her tablet. “The vet is on our jet now and on his way. He’ll do everything he can to help make Queenie better.”
Sofia’s bottom lip trembles. “Really?”
“Really.”
The movie is forgotten as she hugs him again without hesitation—and he holds her just as tightly in return.
Watching them together—these two people who find touch so difficult at times, one a huge man and the other a tiny girl—makes something in me break. I sit down beside them and press my head to his shoulder. And for a while, we simply stay like that with Leon asleep on his mat beside Viktor.
And it feels like…home.
Because for the first time in a long time, it feels like I have a real place to call home. To belong. To be wanted.
I want to thank him. To tell him what this all means to me. And to Sofia. But the words don’t come without the sting of tears, so I push them back until later and until I can find the right ones.
The vet arrives just before sundown as we all sit at the clinic anxiously waiting. How they managed to clean out the place is beyond me.
A sleek SUV pulls into the drive, trailed by another SUV with Viktor’s soldiers. The man who steps out looks more like a film star than a veterinarian with his perfect hair and expensive suit. But what I really notice is his calm expression and kind eyes.
Sofia clutches my hand and her stuffed cat as we sit in the waiting chairs before she stands beside Viktor as Dr. Rivers, New York’s top feline specialist, starts up the stairs into the building.
Dr. Rivers goes to shake Viktor’s hand, but Viktor keeps it in his pocket and merely nods. Dr. Rivers then looks at Sofia. “I heard you have a very special cat who needs some help.”
Sofia nods. “Yes. She needs help for her heart. Can you help her, please?”
Dr. Rivers gives a small smile. “I’ll try my very best.” Then he gestures for Queenie’s vet to lead the way. Viktor trails behind them without even being asked, leaving Sofia and me in the waiting room.
She sits back down beside me, and I try to distract her the best I can. Asking her questions, listening to her answers, making conversation, but it’s almost useless. Sofia’s too tense because things have become too much too fast.
It’s late by the time the surgery is complete, but I’ve let Sofia stay with us at the clinic.
Viktor comes to tell us what Dr. Rivers said to him.
Grigory has been pacing up and down, while Matvey has been tapping on his laptop nonstop, researching other possible treatments, surgeons, and options.
Nikolai has taken to chain-smoking outside the clinic, coming in every five minutes to check if there’s an update yet.
Sofia jumps up as soon as she hears Viktor’s footsteps and dashes over to him.
“She’s stable,” he says to us all. “Dr. Rivers needs a few hours to monitor her response. They’re talking about treatment plans to put in place now. And she’ll need long-term follow-up care to monitor her heart function.”
“She’s not dying?” Sofia asks, and I can tell she’s on the verge of tears.
Viktor crouches down in front of her. “Not today. The vet seems hopeful that the surgery will be a success and that Queenie will have a near-normal lifespan.”
And those words mean the world to us all but especially to Sofia. And the little girl throws herself into his arms and gives him the biggest hug.
When the house is still and Sofia and Leon are tucked in bed, I find Viktor on the patio, sitting with his elbows on his knees, staring into the darkness of the sky.
Wrapping a blanket around my shoulders, I step outside.
He doesn’t look at me, but he knows I’m here.
“Sofia is finally asleep,” I say softly.
“Good.”
I drop down beside him, letting the silence stretch. It’s comfortable like it always has been between us. “You’re really moving heaven and earth for Sofia and Queenie,” I start.
He exhales, rubbing a hand down his face. “I don’t know what else to do.” His voice is rough, strained. I can only imagine how hard this is on him as well.
My hand moves, palm up, waiting for him to take it if he needs it.
His head turns, and he looks at me. Really looks, like he’s afraid I’m going to vanish if he blinks. It’s a look he’s given me countless times, and yet each time, it makes my stomach turn into a swarm of butterflies. And each time, it makes my whole body feel warm and so right.
“I don’t know how to be this person—the one you deserve or need—without destroying everything else,” he murmurs.
“We don’t need you to be anyone but you.”
“I’m not enough. I’m different, and—”
“You’re always enough for me,” I say, cutting him off. I need him to know that. How he is completely enough. From the way he is and thinks to the actions he takes. He’s enough. Always. “You are not something broken to fix, Viktor. You are you, and I love that.”
I rest my hand against his shoulder. He doesn’t move away. And in the darkness, as the house behind us glows with faint lights, I feel something shift. The air has always been electric between us, but it’s more.
Something…soothing.
Something real.
Something lasting.
Without a word, we make our way back into the house, his fingers laced tightly around mine. Like he’s worried that we’re going to fall apart if he lets go of me. The rowdy poker game is still going strong, but neither of us even looks that direction.
We head upstairs. His free hand taps steadily against his thigh. His movements are subtle, but I know what they mean. His brain is cycling through something. Some pattern, some loop. Trying to solve a problem that won’t sit still within his mind.
He sits down on the bed.
“Viktor?”
He nods. It’s not cold, but it’s distracted.
I sit beside him. Not crowding him, but just close enough that he knows I’m here.
He leans forward. “I thought I understood control. That if…I kept everything calculated and structured, then I’d never feel helpless.
Or weak.” He speaks without looking up. “But today, watching Sofia cry, watching you worry... I could plan every exit strategy, secure every route, kill every threat, and it still wouldn’t have done anything.
You’d still be hurting, Sofia would still be hurting…
and I’d be hurting too. I can’t save the people I love from pain, especially when I can’t really understand it or predict it myself. ”
The word love hangs between us. He doesn’t take it back, and part of me thinks he’s not even aware he’s said it.
But I don’t flinch. This isn’t just about Queenie. It’s also about him and us. And everything he doesn’t know how to say out loud.
My heart thunders against my ribs as it clicks. I reach for his hand, my fingers sliding over his.
He tenses for a second, like always, before slowly threading them with mine.
“None of us is in control,” I say gently. “Not really. But you tried. The fact that you do try, regardless of things not making sense to you, means everything.”
He turns toward me. “Why?” His question is curious. Him trying to understand how to be, as he calls it, normal.
“Because you stayed when it was easier to leave. You showed up when you could have just walked away. That’s what is important.”
He draws in a slow breath. My chest aches at what he’s going through in his mind right now.
“I don’t understand it still, but I want to.” He pauses. “I used to think I was broken and incapable of all this. But with you—and even with the children—it’s like I feel too much all the time.”
I squeeze his hand. “That’s being human.”
He leans back a little, finally exhaling like he hasn’t breathed all day. “I would’ve burned down whole cities for you all today,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against the back of my hand, his gaze fixed on it. “And I wouldn’t have even stopped to question it.”
I smile. And we sit like that for a while before we both lie back, tangled in each other’s arms. Just being.
And the thought of how far we’ve come hits me. From curious glances and wary apprehension to…this. Something steady. Something that feels right in all the fragile, broken ways I’m scared to acknowledge.
This dangerous man is still ruthless. Still frightening in every way. But he’s also gentle when he thinks the world isn’t watching. So loyal to us and his brothers that I don’t know what to make of it. And that’s the big difference.
“Do you think Queenie will really be okay?” I ask softly, breaking the silence as we lie there.
“I’ll do everything I can to make sure she is.”
I nod, resting my head against his shoulder as I curl into him. His lips press to my temple, and I know without a doubt that this man will protect us. Always.
But he’s not just protecting us.
He’s choosing us.
And I’m not afraid to choose him back.
To be the quiet when he needs it. The calm in the storm.
He wants me not because I tend to his needs. He wants me because he finds solace in me—just by me being me.
And I love this feeling of being wanted by him.