Chapter 21
21
Mak
"I won't raise them to think this is normal. No matter what I feel for you, I have to protect them first."
Wil's declaration destroys me more thoroughly than any business rival ever could. The words echo in my mind during the silent drive back to the estate, each syllable cutting deeper than any blade. My empire, my power, and my reputation are all suddenly meaningless against the prospect of losing her and the five lives she carries.
I watch her from the corner of my eye, her face turned toward the window, tears still tracking through the blood spatter on her cheeks. Her hands haven't left her belly since the attack, as if physically shielding our children from the violence they've already witnessed. The sight burns like acid in my chest.
Back at the estate, I insist on having Dr. Phillips examine her immediately. Wil doesn't protest, her nurse's training overriding her desire to escape me as she acknowledges the medical necessity after such trauma. I pace outside the medical suite while the examination takes place, ignoring Leonid's attempts to brief me on the aftermath of the attack.
Dr. Phillips emerges after twenty minutes, her expression professionally neutral. "Physically, she's unharmed. All five fetuses show normal heartbeats and activity, but she's experiencing acute stress reaction. The psychological impact shouldn't be underestimated."
I nod, relief at their physical safety tempered by the awareness that the damage runs deeper than flesh. "Thank you, Doctor."
When I enter the examination room, Wil has already changed from her blood-soaked dress into scrubs provided by Dr. Phillips. She sits on the edge of the table, staring at the ultrasound image in her hands—the one from the specialist in the city, now stained with her attacker's blood.
"They're all okay?" I approach cautiously, like she's a wounded animal, who might bolt at any sudden movement.
She nods without looking at me. "Physically."
The implication hangs between us, heavy with accusation. Something fundamental has broken between us, trust shattered by bullets and blood. Without another word, she slides from the examination table and walks past me, her body language clearly communicating her desire for distance.
I follow her through the corridors of the estate, maintaining space between us until she reaches her suite—not mine, where she's spent every night for the past week, but the rooms originally assigned to her upon arrival. She immediately begins pulling clothes from drawers with shaking hands, tossing them haphazardly into an open suitcase on the bed.
I stand in the doorway, watching her frantic movements with growing desperation, trying to formulate arguments that might convince her to stay. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" She doesn't pause in her task and doesn't even look at me. "I can't stay here."
I step into the room despite her unmistakable anger radiating toward me. "The world outside this estate is more dangerous for you now. Those men weren't random criminals. They were sent by enemies who know exactly who you are and what you mean to me."
She continues gathering clothes, her movements increasingly agitated. "They'll keep coming, won't they? No matter where I go, no matter what I do, they'll keep trying because I'm connected to you."
My voice rises as fear fuels my words. "Which is exactly why I am the only one who can keep you safe!"
Wil finally stops, turning to face me with tears streaming down her face. "Safe? You call what happened today safe? People were shot in the street, Mak. Innocent bystanders caught in crossfire. A woman was bleeding on the sidewalk while you hustled me away."
"Because you are everything to me now." I step closer, desperate to make her understand. "You and those babies… I can't lose you."
"And that's the problem." Her voice drops to almost a whisper. "Your love is as destructive as your hate. You only know one way to solve problems."
"That's not true." The accusation stings precisely because part of me fears it might be accurate.
"I don't want them growing up numb to violence the way you have." She gestures toward her belly, tears flowing freely as she continues packing. "I don't want them thinking it's normal to solve problems with bullets, or to have bodyguards instead of friends, or to be afraid of their own shadows."
Years of my carefully constructed control crumble in the face of losing everything that has suddenly become precious to me. Our argument spirals as emotions overwhelm reason. We shout at one another, but more out of love and fear than anger, moving closer with each heated exchange until we're standing toe to toe in the center of the room.
"You think I don't know what I am?" I demand, my voice breaking with the strain of containing emotions I've suppressed for decades. "You think I want this life for them? For you?" I grasp her shoulders with gentle urgency, revealing the torment beneath my composed exterior. "I would burn it all down if I knew how to be something different."
Wil's expression shifts, anger giving way to something more complex. "I love you." The words emerge through her tears, a confession that clearly costs her. "God help me, I do, but sometimes, love isn't enough when set against violence that's become as natural as breathing to you."
The confession—both her love and its insufficiency—shatters the last barrier between us. Grief and desire collide as I pull her into a desperate kiss that she returns with equal fervor. Her lips part beneath mine, allowing me to taste the salt of her tears and something uniquely Wil beneath it all.
I expect her to push me away, to return to her packing and her plans to leave. Instead, her arms wind around my neck, pulling me closer as the kiss deepens into something primal and needy. Her body presses against mine with unexpected urgency, communicating a desperation that matches my own.
I slip my hands beneath her scrub top, finding the warm skin of her back, and tracing the delicate curve of her spine. She moans into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me and igniting a fire that threatens to consume us both. I walk her backward until her legs hit the edge of the bed, our lips never separating.
"I need you," she whispers against my mouth, her fingers already working at the buttons of my shirt. "One last time."
The words cut like a blade, but I push aside the pain, focusing instead on the gift she's offering, this final connection before separation. I tug her top over her head, revealing her breasts, fuller now with pregnancy, nipples darker and more sensitive than when we first came together. The sight makes my cock harden painfully against my tailored slacks.
"You're so beautiful." I cup her breasts reverently, thumbs circling nipples that pebble instantly under my touch. "Every inch of you."
Her head falls back as I lower my mouth to one sensitive peak, teeth grazing lightly before my tongue soothes the sting. The sound she makes, a half-gasp and half-moan, drives me to the edge of control. I suck harder while kneading her other breast with careful pressure, learning her changing body as if memorizing territory soon to be lost.
Wil tugs impatiently at my remaining clothes, her usual patience abandoned in the face of our impending separation. I help her, shedding fabric until nothing remains between us. The slight curve of her belly where our children grow makes my throat tighten with emotions I still struggle to name, but my attention is quickly reclaimed by her hand wrapping around my cock, already thick and leaking at the tip.
"I need to taste you," she murmurs, sinking to her knees before I can respond.
The sight of her like this, naked and pregnant, drives me crazy. When her lips close around the head of my cock, I groan deeply, tangling one hand in her hair while the other braces against the wall for support.
Her mouth is hot and wet as she swirls her tongue over the sensitive ridge beneath the head before she takes me deeper. I watch, mesmerized, as my shaft disappears between her lips, her cheeks hollowing with suction that sends sparks of pleasure racing up my spine.
"Wil, fuck…" I fight the urge to thrust, to take control, allowing her to set the pace. "That feels incredible."
She hums around me, the vibration adding another layer of sensation. Her hands aren't idle, one fondling my balls with gentle pressure while the other works the base of my shaft in rhythm with her mouth. The dual stimulation builds pressure at the base of my spine with alarming speed.
I tug gently at her hair, a warning. "I'm close."
She releases me with a final, lingering lick, looking up with eyes darkened by desire. "I want you inside me."
I lift her easily, laying her on the bed among half-packed clothes that scatter across the sheets, forgotten in our need. I take a moment to remove her remaining clothes, revealing the body that's become more precious to me than any possession or territory. She spreads her thighs in invitation, and I catch my breath at the sight of her pussy, glistening with arousal that speaks of her need.
"Let me taste you too." I lower myself between her legs. The first broad stroke of my tongue through her folds draws a sharp cry from her lips, and she bucks her hips involuntarily. I hold her thighs open with gentle but firm hands, focusing my attention on the sensitive bud above her entrance.
"Mak, please…" She tangles her fingers in my hair, alternately pulling me closer and pushing me away as sensation threatens to overwhelm her. "Oh, right there…"
I circle her clit with the tip of my tongue, knowing from her previous reactions the perfect pressure and pace. When I slide a finger inside her, her channel tightens around me, inner walls fluttering with approaching release. I stroke her insides, working it in rhythm with my tongue until she shatters, tearing a scream from her throat as her body arches off the bed.
Before she can fully recover, I move up her body, positioning myself at her entrance. We love gazes, and her pupils are blown wide with pleasure and something deeper—a connection transcending the physical that I never expected to find in this life. I push forward slowly, giving her time to adjust to my cock, watching her face for any sign of discomfort.
The feeling of being inside her is unequalled. Her tight, wet pussy envelopes my cock inch by inch until I'm fully seated within her. I remain still for a moment, forearms braced on either side of her head, our breaths mingling in the small space between us.
"I love you." The words escape before I can stop them, raw and honest in a way I've never allowed myself to be. "I never thought I would say that to anyone."
Tears fill her eyes anew, but she pulls me down for a kiss that speaks volumes. "Show me."
I begin to move, establishing a rhythm that starts slowly and deliberately. Each thrust communicates what words can’t—my desperation, my devotion, and my silent plea for her to reconsider. Her hips rise to meet mine, taking me deeper, her inner muscles clenching around me in a way that threatens my control, but I never get the sense my unspoken plea is swaying her.
"Harder," she demands, digging her nails into my shoulders. "I need to feel you."
The last threads of my restraint snap at her command. I drive into her with increasing force, still mindful of her condition but unable to deny the primal need to claim her completely. The headboard knocks against the wall with our movements, the sound punctuating our shared breaths and moans.
"You're mine." I practically growl the words against her neck, biting down gently on the sensitive junction of shoulder and throat. "No matter where you go, no matter what happens next. These children are ours. This connection is ours."
She doesn't contradict me. Her only response is a keening cry as I change the angle, hitting the spot inside her that makes her walls clench around me. I reach between us, finding her clit and circling in time with my increasingly erratic thrusts.
"Come for me again, Wil." My voice is unrecognizable, rough with emotion and arousal. "Let me feel you one more time."
Her orgasm hits with stunning intensity, her entire body tensing beneath me as she cries out my name. The feeling of her pussy pulsing around my cock, and the sight of her coming undone because of me, triggers my own release. I drive into her one final time, emptying myself deeply inside her with a guttural groan, shuddering with the force of it.
For several moments afterward, we remain joined, our breathing gradually slowing in the aftermath. I rest my forehead against hers, unwilling to separate just yet, to acknowledge what must come next. When I finally withdraw and move to lie beside her, she surprises me by turning into my embrace rather than away.
I hold her close, spreading my hand protectively over her belly, where our children grow. The silence between us feels both peaceful and ominous, the calm before an inevitable storm. Eventually, I break it, unable to contain the emotions threatening to choke me.
I slide down the bed until my face is level with her slightly rounded belly. Pressing my lips gently against the taut skin, I whisper apologies to our unborn babies and promises to fix everything, to burn it all down if I have to in order to be the father they deserve rather than the monster I was raised to be. The words flow from some place inside me I didn't know existed, a wellspring of emotion that both terrifies and exhilarates me.
Wil doesn't respond verbally, but she strokes my hair in a gesture that might be comfort or farewell. Exhaustion and emotional turmoil finally claim her, and her breathing evens out in sleep while tears still dampen her cheeks. I brush them away with gentle fingers, allowing myself one tender gesture she won't remember.
I remain awake through the night, watching over her sleeping form. My mind races with possibilities, discarding and reformulating plans that might save my newfound family. The path forward remains unclear, obscured by years of violence and power that can't simply be abandoned overnight. My enemies would interpret any sign of withdrawal as weakness, attacking with renewed vigor at the first opportunity. The Vorobev empire wasn't built to allow resignation. The only way out has always been death.
Unless I create another option. A third path that neither my father nor any Bratva leader before me ever considered. As dawn approaches, I carefully extricate myself from Wil's sleeping form, moving silently to avoid waking her. I dress quickly in the half-light, my decision crystallizing with each passing moment. What happens next will either save my newfound family or destroy everything I've ever built. Either way, nothing will remain the same.