Snowflakes and Bloodstains (25 Days of Christmas: Bikers & Mobsters)

Chapter 1

Sofia

New York City — First Snow Forecasted popped up as a notification on my phone, but I dismissed it.

In my other hand, I held the little stick. I’d stared at the pregnancy test so long I was pretty sure the little plus sign actually burned into my retinas. There were no simple “two pink lines.” I’d opted for the one that spelled it out for me. Pregnant. Not Pregnant. No ambiguity. No mercy.

And boy, had it shown none whatsoever.

My stomach rolled—not nausea this time. Nerves. Terror. Awe.

I kept telling myself to breathe. It’s not like I was dying. I wasn’t being hunted in a dark alley. I was pregnant. With a Bratva enforcer’s child. Had he ever specifically told me what he did? No. But I wasn’t dumb, and I could put two and two together.

Okay. So maybe dying was still on the table. Shit.

Telling myself to simply breathe, I paced the length of my tiny living room for the fiftieth time. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Every sound outside made me jump. A car door. A neighbor’s music thumping through the wall. Distant sirens.

I was wired so tight my teeth and jaw ached. My shoulders seemed to be up by my ears, and I could hear my pulse pounding in my head.

My phone buzzed.

Maksim: Parking.

My hammering heart tried to exit my body in one violent leap. I typed back with what felt like ten thumbs.

Me: I’ll come down and open the door.

He didn’t reply. Of course he didn’t. He didn’t text like normal people—he texted like each of the messages cost him freaking money. I rolled my eyes.

After a deep, fortifying breath, I went to head downstairs, nerves sparking like crappy wiring. I turned my knob and swung it open—

—and yelped.

Maksim stood inches away, broad shoulders filling the hallway like he’d materialized out of thin air. A dark coat, darker eyes, snowflakes melting on his hair.

Trying to force my lungs to work again, I slapped a hand over my chest. “Oh my God, are you trying to kill me?”

His arm went around my waist instantly, gently pulling me aside as he moved inside. “What scared you?”

“What?”

“You… squeaked. You sounded scared.” He flicked a lethal look around the apartment, already checking windows, corners, closet, bathroom. Then his body followed the same path his gaze had. He moved like a man expecting to find an enemy in every shadow.

When he finished his sweep in under ten seconds, he came back, cupping my face, eyes narrowed. “Who scared you?”

“You did!” I hissed. “You weren’t supposed to be right there!”

“Not what I meant. You never call me to come over.” His tone was quiet. Deadly observant. “Something is wrong.”

Christ, I swore he could read me like a printed file someone had casually dropped in his lap. Shit, I needed a little time. A single goddamn breath. A second to figure out how not to faint dead away before I could spit it out.

So I blurted out the first thing that popped to my mind.

“How do you even get into my building?” I demanded as I narrowed my eyes into suspicious slits. You needed a key to get in the main entrance.

His mouth curved—not a smile. It didn’t come from happiness. Instead, it was a deadly weapon to my heart. “I have my ways.”

“That’s not an answer.” Arms akimbo, I scowled.

“You didn’t answer my question either.” He brushed past me, hanging his coat on one of my barstools like he owned it. “Tell me, Sofia.”

My tongue stuck to the roof of my dry mouth. Every bone in my body vibrated. Sweat trickled down my spine.

Still, he waited, arms folded, stock-still. A predator with unlimited patience, quietly circling.

“I, um…” My voice suddenly failed. Swallowing hard, I tried again. “Well, I have something to tell you.”

Immediately, his entire posture sharpened. “Is someone threatening you? Did something happen?”

My eyes bugged at first. Threatening me? That meant a threat to the tiny little bean I had growing inside me, and it changed my perspective. My spine stiffened to the point it cracked.

“No,” I snapped.

“Did someone follow you?”

“No,” I replied, a bit calmer.

His jaw ticked. “Is something wrong at the bar?”

“No. Maksim—”

“What is it then?” His voice softened, but his eyes didn’t. “Sofia, talk to me.”

A stuttering breath shook me. Then another. The words reluctantly crawled up my throat as I choked out, “I’m pregnant.”

Silence hit harder than a bullet piercing a watermelon. Though he was always conservative with his movement, he stilled completely. Like the world froze mid-breath.

For a second, he wasn’t the Bratva’s nightmare. He was but a man, processing the earth violently shifting under him.

Then he inhaled once. Deep. Controlled.

“You’re sure.” Not really a question—more of an observation.

“Yes.”

Another long pause ensued. Then the mask cracked—not anger, nor fear. Something raw. Something protective and feral and terrifying in a completely new way.

His hand settled protectively on my lower stomach. “You carry my child.”

A sharp inhale sucked breath almost painfully into my chest. “Maksim—”

“You are moving in with me.” It was spoken with finality, and I reared back in surprise.

“What? No. I live here. I work close to here—” I sputtered.

“This building is not secure. Your door lock is weak. Your windows are old. You have no security cameras. It is not safe. You will not stay here.” The finality in his voice brooked no argument. It rolled over me like cold steel and certainty. “Pack your things.”

Mouth flopping open and shut like a goldfish, I gaped. Finally, I blurted out, “You can’t just… decide where I live!”

“I am not negotiating.” His eyes softened in a way I’d never seen, strangely gentle against the authority in his voice. “You are carrying my child. That changes everything.”

“But—my job—my space—”

“You will still work, if that’s what pleases you,” he said, surprising me until he followed it up with, “Until I say otherwise.” Then softer, thumb brushing my jaw, voice low and almost reverent, “But if you continue to work, you will be protected.”

Tears pricked before I could stop them, and I desperately tried to blink them away. “Maksim… I don’t want to disappear into your life and lose mine.”

He framed my face with both hands. With both thumbs, he swept away the tears I’d tried so hard to keep at bay. “You are not losing your life, kиса. You are gaining a future.”

“And if I don’t want your future?” I whispered.

His gaze darkened, possessive and aching all at once. “Then I will build one you do want.” He kissed my forehead. Reverent. Claiming. “You are my priority. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

I wasn’t sure if that comforted me or terrified me to my bones. But I knew one thing for certain—my life wasn’t mine anymore. Not fully. Not ever again.

And snow—delicate, inevitable—began to tap against the window glass.

Winter had officially arrived.

So had the Bratva’s claim.