Chapter 28
Kazimir
The quarter glides over my knuckles in a smooth, practiced way. It catches the low light of the study lamp each time it turns, flashing silver like a blade.
Index to middle, middle to ring, ring to pinky, then back again.
It is an old habit, older than most of the men who work for me now.
I picked it up on the streets of Prague when I was as thin as a wire and as mean as a stray dog.
Back then the trick served a purpose, because loose hands meant quick hands, and quick hands meant survival.
If I could keep my fingers busy, I could keep my eyes sharp, and if I looked relaxed, people underestimated me long enough to make a mistake.
Many years later, I’m doing it wearing a tailored shirt that costs more than a month’s rent did back then, and it’s turned into nothing more than a nervous tic.
The study is quiet except for the faint tick of the antique clock on the far wall.
Dark wood shelves line the room from floor to ceiling, filled with leather-bound volumes I have never had time to read.
The wide windows look out over the estate like a painting too perfect to be real.
Gravel paths curve through trimmed hedges, the fountain murmurs steadily, and beyond the gates the world carries on.
Most people are completely unaware that half of Savannah’s bloodier decisions get made in this historic home.
I stare through the glass without really seeing any of it.
The quarter keeps moving.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Nika stands near the door with his shoulder against the frame, scrolling through messages on his phone, pretending not to watch me. He has learned over the years when to speak and when to let me think myself into knots.
“You’re going to wear a groove into your knuckles,” he says after a while, his voice light.
“I’ll survive,” I reply.
“Mmm. Funny that survival is on your mind at a time like this.”
The corner of my mouth twitches, but it doesn’t turn into a smile.
“I’m telling him today,” I say, finally breaking the silence that has been sitting between us like a loaded gun.
Nika’s eyes lift. “Yeah? Telling him what exactly?” It’s a careful question, but I’ve known Nika long enough to know that he’s figured out something is happening.
Something more than it was ever supposed to.
“I’m done stalling. No more excuses.”
The coin slips cleanly over my thumb and returns to its circuit, steady as a metronome. “I’m not lying to him. Not about this.”
He pockets his phone. “Probably for the best.”
“I touched her,” I say, the words tasting heavier than they should. “More than that. I broke the agreement, and now she’s pregnant.”
Even in the quiet room, the word feels loud.
Pregnant.
It doesn’t fit in my mouth yet. It feels unreal and terrifying, and dangerously precious all at once. How am I going to tell Liev if I can barely wrap my mind around it myself?
The quarter falters for half a second before I catch it and keep going.
“And…” I start, then stop.
Nika studies me with open curiosity. “And?”
“Nothing.”
He snorts softly. “You should probably also tell him you’re in love with her.”
My head turns slowly toward him, and the look I give him would make most men step back.
“Careful,” I warn.
He raises both hands, unbothered. “Just saying. Seems like important information.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I hold his gaze until he looks away first.
Love is a word I’ve avoided my entire life. Love makes men soft, and softness gets you buried. Love is leverage in someone else’s hands, a weakness that can be exploited. I have spent years cutting every tie that could be used against me.
And now Aly has walked straight through my defenses like they were never there.
It’s never been anything more than obsession, I reassure myself. That’s all it is even now: obsession. Even if she’s carrying my child.
If I ever say those words out loud, it won’t be to Liev first.
It’ll be to her.
“I’ll tell him what he needs to know,” I say evenly. “The facts. That’s enough.”
Nika nods, then adds with dry amusement, “Good thing you waited until you’re mostly healed.”
I glance at him. “Why’s that?”
“If he tries to kill you, at least you won’t bleed out immediately.”
A rough laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
It isn’t entirely a joke.
Liev has killed for less. If he thinks I’ve dishonored his daughter or put her at risk, our friendship won’t mean much. He knows how our world wrecks people. He wouldn’t let Alyona be put in the way of our bloody business.
I just hope he’ll believe the same of me.
A knock sounds at the door. One of the guards leans in and says, “He’s here.”
My shoulders tighten instinctively.
Nika straightens and cracks his neck. “I’ll bring him up.”
When the door shuts behind him, the study feels larger and emptier than before, despite it being a curated space meant to feel close and safe.
The quarter keeps rolling over my knuckles as I roll my shoulders, testing the pull of healing muscle and the ache beneath my ribs.
I have taken bullets and knives without hesitation, but this feels worse than any wound.
This conversation could change everything.
A soft knock sounds again.
“I said bring him—”
The door opens before I finish speaking.
Aly stands there.
She’s wearing leggings and one of my shirts, the fabric swallowing her curvy frame, her hair loose and messy from sleep. She looks warm and soft and completely out of place in a room built for war and strategy. Somehow, she makes it feel less suffocating just by stepping inside.
“What are you doing out of bed?” I ask immediately.
She rolls her eyes. “Good morning to you too.”
“You should be resting.”
“Kazimir,” she says patiently, “I’m barely pregnant, not made of glass. And I slept close to ten hours.”
“You’re still—”
“Perfectly fine,” she finishes, but there’s no accusation in it. Only affection. “You’re being overprotective again, Kaz.”
The past two days, after having everything confirmed, have been a whirlwind of trying to find a balance between control and care.
She walks toward me slowly, like she can sense the tension vibrating through me. When she reaches me, she slips her hand into mine without hesitation. Her fingers are warm, steady, grounding in a way nothing else has ever been.
“You’re going to talk to him,” she says softly.
I nod.
“I want to be there. When you tell my dad.”
My instinct is to refuse. To shield her from the fallout. To handle it alone like I handle everything else.
“This is my problem,” I tell her.
She squeezes my hand. “It’s ours.”
The word settles deep in my chest, heavy and certain.
I look down at our joined hands, at how naturally they fit together, and something in me shifts. Not weakness. Not surrender.
Something stronger.
Something that makes me want to burn the world down before I let anyone touch her.
She isn’t fragile. She’s choosing to stand beside me.
And as I pull her a little closer, feeling the quiet strength in her posture, I realize that whatever Liev says when he walks through that door, whatever it costs me, I already know the truth.
If it ever comes down to it, I would choose her.
The study door swings open without ceremony, and Liev strides in.
He does not slam the door or raise his voice, yet the air tightens around him all the same.
It’s as though the walls recognize the shift in power and brace for impact.
Nika follows a step behind, silent and alert, his shoulders squared and his gaze already tracking exits and angles the way a soldier does when he expects blood.
If my uncle hadn’t been the Pakhan, if Liev and I had come to power on the same level instead of having a blood tie into the business, I’m not sure who would’ve come out on top. But now I’m the Pakhan, and that’s what I remind myself as I face my best friend.
Liev’s eyes sweep the room once, landing on me, then sliding to Aly.
He stills.
It is subtle, that pause, but I know him too well not to see it. He’s read enough battlefields in his life to recognize when something is wrong before a word is spoken.
“Why is she here?” He asks, his tone low and controlled in a way that is far more dangerous than shouting.
Before I consciously decide to move, my body does it for me. I shift half a step forward, placing myself slightly between him and Aly. I’m not shielding her like a child, but creating a barrier all the same. The gesture is instinctive, territorial, and unmistakable.
Liev notices immediately.
His gaze sharpens.
“What’s going on?” he presses.
Aly’s fingers curl into mine, warm and steady, and I feel the faint tremor she is trying to hide.
Liev’s gaze flickers to our hands, and his lip curls.
She doesn’t retreat behind me. Instead, she squares her shoulders as though preparing to face a storm head-on.
She’s stubborn and brave in a way that makes my chest ache.
“We need to talk,” I say. “All of us.”
“Then talk.”
There is no softness in the invitation.
I glance at Aly, silently asking if she is ready for this. She gives me a small nod, her chin lifting in defiance.
“She’s pregnant,” I tell him.
The word settles heavily between us.
For a long moment, Liev does not react. He simply stares, as though his mind has refused to accept what it has heard. His gaze drops to our joined hands, then to the way I am standing slightly in front of her, and finally back to my face.
Understanding dawns slowly, then all at once.
The agreement we made. The rules. The promise I gave him.
Don’t touch her.
His expression fractures, and what replaces it is not disappointment but fury, raw and unfiltered.
“You said you wouldn’t,” he growls, the words dragging out of him like they hurt.
“I know.”
“You swore to me.”
“I know.”
The repetition does nothing to soothe him. It only confirms the betrayal.
He moves without warning, launching toward me with the same speed he used to have when we were kids fighting for scraps in Prague alleyways. I brace for the impact, ready to meet him head-on, ready to take whatever damage he wants to inflict—
But Aly steps between us before either of us can reach the other.
“Stop,” she shouts, planting herself squarely in her father’s path.
He jerks sideways at the last second to avoid slamming into her, momentum twisting his balance just enough for Nika to grab him around the shoulders and haul him back.
“What are you doing?” I snap, grabbing Aly by the waist and pulling her behind me. My heart is hammering now, anger and fear tangling together. “Don’t ever put yourself between us like that.”
“So he can kill you?” she fires back, breathless and furious. “No. I’m not letting that happen.”
Liev tears himself free from Nika and points at me like he wants to put a bullet through my skull.
“You touched her,” he says, his voice shaking with restrained violence. “You broke your word.”
“She isn’t some mistake,” I reply evenly.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then don’t talk like she’s collateral damage, some convenient one-night-stand I’m keeping in my home. You should know better.”
He turns to Aly instead, desperation creeping into his anger. “You’re leaving. Today. You’re done here. You’re not seeing him again.”
“No,” she says.
He blinks, stunned.
“I’m not leaving,” she repeats, louder now. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“I’m your father.”
“Were you?” she asks quietly.
He looks like he’s been punched. Aly steps forward, facing him fully, and I feel a strange mix of pride and dread watching her stand her ground.
“Seventeen years, Liev,” she says. “Seventeen years with Mom while you were gone. You only called when you had to. You only brought me here when it became your legal responsibility. You don’t get to show up now and pretend you’ve always protected me.”
His jaw tightens. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Maybe,” she says. It’s clear she doesn’t believe that; doesn’t know the whole story. Someday I’ll find a way to reconcile the hurt between them, but for now my only concern is keeping her safe. And keeping her with me. Aly continues, “If you hurt him, you lose me. Completely. I won’t come back.”
The room falls into a heavy silence.
She has chosen.
She has chosen me.
The realization settles deep in my chest, warm and dangerous and undeniable. I have spent my life taking what I want and calling it strength, but this feels different, softer and far more terrifying.
Liev steps close enough that our shoulders nearly touch. His voice drops to a whisper that carries more threat than a shout ever could.
“If anything happens to her,” he murmurs, “I will make you suffer before I kill you.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” I answer.
We hold each other’s gaze for a long, loaded moment. Two men who once would have died for one another are now standing on opposite sides of the same woman.
Then he turns and walks out, the door closing behind him with heavy finality.
The study goes quiet.
Aly’s hand slips into mine again, and this time I tighten my grip, unwilling to let go.