Chapter 16 – Kirill
It had been a week since the hospital.
A week since I’d walked out of that sterile room with the doctor’s words echoing in my head and my entire world tilting on its axis.
A week since I’d driven back to my penthouse in a daze, sat in front of my monitors, and stared at code I couldn’t process because all I could think about was the woman lying in a hospital bed, carrying my child.
A week since I’d done the one thing I swore I’d never do: called Vladimir.
The conversation still played on repeat in my mind, his words carved into my consciousness like code I couldn’t delete.
“You need to tell me what’s going on, Kirill.” His voice had been calm and measured, but underneath, there was concern. The kind only Vladimir could hide so well. “You haven’t checked in. You missed our scheduled call. That’s not like you.”
I’d told him everything I knew. Barbara.
Sebastian. The blackmail I didn’t understand the details of.
The attack that had nearly killed her. The pregnancy that had blindsided us both.
The fact that she wouldn’t tell me more—wouldn’t explain what Sebastian had on her or what had happened in that building beyond the physical attack.
The line had gone quiet for so long I’d thought he’d hung up.
Then: “Secrets or not, she is carrying your child, and you don’t get to walk away.”
The words had hit like a physical blow. Because walking away had been exactly what I’d been considering. Not permanently, but giving her space. Letting her recover. Figuring out my own head before I tried to navigate hers.
“You protect what is yours,” Vladimir had continued, his voice taking on that edge that meant he wasn’t making a suggestion.
He was giving an order. “That includes her. And the Bratva….” A pause.
“The Bratva owns your bloodline now, Kirill. Your child will be born into this world. Into our world. You understand what that means?”
I’d understood perfectly. It meant no walking away. No half-measures. No pretending this was temporary or casual or something I could compartmentalize. Barbara Davis was carrying Bratva blood now, whether she knew it or not. And that made her family.
That made her mine to protect.
The conversation had shifted after that.
Vladimir asking questions I didn’t have many answers to.
About Sebastian’s connections. About the blackmail I still didn’t understand.
About what had happened in that building that Barbara refused to talk about.
About whether I’d broken my promise and killed anyone.
“Not yet,” I’d told him honestly. “But I’m going to.”
“No.” The word had been absolute. “You find him. You bring him to us. We handle it the Bratva way. Clean. Efficient. But your hands stay clean, Kirill. Do you understand?”
I’d understood. Hadn’t agreed, but understood.
Now, a week later, I stood outside the ornate front doors of the Davis estate, my heart pounding harder than it had when I’d faced down armed men. Harder than when I’d found Barbara bleeding out in that abandoned building.
Because this was different. This was walking back into her life when I’d abandoned her in the hospital. When I’d let panic and confusion drive me away instead of staying when she needed me most.
I took a deep breath. Then another. Ran a hand down my face, feeling the week’s worth of inadequate sleep and too much caffeine in the tremor of my fingers.
Today I wasn’t going to sneak in. Wasn’t going to use her security codes or slip through gaps in coverage. Today I was going to walk through the front door like I had every right to be there.
Because I did. She was carrying my child. That gave me rights, responsibilities, and obligations that went beyond whatever complicated mess existed between us.
I pressed the doorbell, the sound echoing somewhere deep in the mansion. Footsteps approached—one of the staff, probably. The door swung open to reveal Marcus, the head of security, whose system I’d replaced. His expression shifted from professional courtesy to recognition to something harder.
“Mr. Petrov.” His tone made it clear I wasn’t welcome. “Ms. Davis isn’t expecting anyone.”
“She’ll see me.” I kept my voice level, controlled. “Tell her Kirill’s here.”
“I don’t think—”
“Tell her.” Not a request this time.
Marcus’s jaw tightened, but he stepped aside. “Wait here.”
He disappeared into the house, leaving me standing in the foyer with its marble floors and crystal chandelier and the kind of wealth that should’ve made me feel out of place. But I’d spent too many years in Vladimir’s world to be intimidated by money anymore.
Minutes ticked by. I counted them by my heartbeat, each one louder than the last.
Then footsteps. Lighter than Marcus’s. Her footsteps.
Barbara appeared at the top of the staircase, and the sight of her stole whatever breath I’d been holding.
She’d lost weight, too much weight for just a week.
Her face was pale, with dark circles under her honey-brown eyes that makeup couldn’t quite hide.
She wore loose clothing that disguised her frame, and her hair was pulled back in a way that looked more practical than stylish.
She looked exhausted. Fragile. And absolutely furious.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice carried down the staircase, sharp with an anger that was entirely justified.
“I need to talk to you.”
“We have nothing to talk about.” She started down the stairs, each step deliberate, controlled. “You made that clear when you walked out of the hospital.”
The accusation hit its mark. “I know. I—”
“Get lost, Kirill.” She reached the bottom of the staircase, stopping several feet away like proximity might burn her. “I don’t need you here. I don’t need your guilt or your confusion or whatever brought you to my door. Just leave.”
I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Because leaving was the one thing I absolutely couldn’t do.
“I’m sorry.” The words came out rougher than intended. “I’m sorry for walking away when you needed me most. For letting panic override everything else. For being a coward.”
“You think an apology fixes it?” Her laugh was bitter. “You think showing up a week later makes it okay?”
“No.” I took a step toward her, watching as she stiffened. “I don’t think it fixes anything. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“I don’t want you here.”
“I know.” Another step. “But you’re stuck with me anyway. Because you’re carrying my child, Barbara. Our child. And I don’t walk away from that. I don’t walk away from you.”
“You already did walk away,” she said quietly.
“And I’m sorry.” I meant it. Meant it with every fiber of my being. “I got panicked about the baby. About what you’ve been through. About the secrets you’re still hiding from me. I didn’t know how to process any of it, so I—”
“Ran.” She finished the sentence for me. “Like everyone else.”
“I’m not everyone else.” I moved closer, and this time she didn’t back away. “And I’m not running anymore. I’m here. I’m staying. Whether you want me to or not.”
She studied my face like she was looking for the lie. Looking for the escape clause I’d use when things got too complicated. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’m Bratva.” The words came out before I could stop them. “Because we don’t abandon what’s ours. And like it or not, you and that baby—” I gestured toward her still-flat stomach, “—are mine now.”
Her expression shifted, something between outrage and disbelief. “I’m not property, Kirill.”
“I didn’t say you were.” I held my ground. “I said you’re mine to protect. There’s a difference.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then seemed to deflate slightly. The anger was still there, but exhaustion was winning. She moved to the sitting room off the foyer, sinking onto a velvet sofa like her legs couldn’t hold her anymore.
I followed, but instead of sitting beside her—invading her space in a way she clearly wasn’t ready for—I dropped onto the ottoman across from her.
She flinched.
The small movement cut deeper than any words could have. She was afraid. Not of me specifically, maybe, but of men in general. Of people getting too close. Of trusting someone who might hurt her.
Sebastian had done that to her. Years of terror had taught her that proximity meant danger.
“Hey.” I kept my voice gentle, non-threatening. “Look at me, Barbara.”
She did, reluctantly, her honey-brown eyes meeting mine.
“You don’t need to be afraid of anything or anyone when I’m around.” I let the truth of that statement settle between us. “I’m not Sebastian. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to use you. I’m here to protect you. Both of you.”
“You don’t even know me,” she whispered.
“I know enough.” I leaned forward slightly, elbows on my knees, trying to make myself smaller.
Less threatening. “I know you’ve survived five years of blackmail and terror.
I know you’re stronger than you think you are.
I know you called me when you were dying, which means some part of you trusts me even if you’re not ready to admit it. ”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. “You said you’re not going anywhere. What does that mean?”
“It means I’m in this. All of it.” I paused, choosing my next words carefully. “I don’t care what Sebastian has on you. Whatever secret he’s using to blackmail you—I’ll wait for you to trust me with it. I’m not going to force you to share something you’re not ready to tell.”
“But?” She heard the unspoken word.
“But I do care about the child you’re carrying.
Our child.” I watched her expression carefully.
“That baby changes everything, Barbara. You understand that, right? This isn’t just about you and me anymore.
There’s a third person involved now. Someone who didn’t ask to be part of this mess but who deserves protection anyway. ”
She looked down at her hands, fingers twisting together in her lap. “I know.”
“Good.” I sat back slightly. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to let me help you. You’re going to let me deal with Sebastian. You’re going to let me make sure you and the baby are safe.”
“And if I don’t want your help?”
“Too bad.” No point in lying about it. “You’re getting it anyway. Because the alternative is you trying to handle this alone, and we both know how that’s working out.”
She flinched again, and I immediately regretted the harsh words.
“That was—” I stopped, running a hand through my hair. “I’m not good at this. At talking about feelings or being gentle or whatever it is people do in these situations. But I meant what I said. I’m here. I’m staying. And I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
“Even if it means breaking your promise to Vladimir?” The question was quiet but pointed. She’d been paying attention. Had pieced together more than I’d realized.
“Even then.” The admission felt like stepping off a cliff.
A ghost of a smile crossed her face. Then it vanished as quickly as it appeared, her expression closing off.
“What?” I asked, watching the shift.
“You mentioned his name.” Her voice had gone flat. “Sebastian. It’s—” She stopped, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
But I’d seen it. The way her whole demeanor changed at the mention of her stepbrother. The way fear and rage and something deeper—trauma—flickered across her face.
“Barbara—”
“I’m tired.” She stood abruptly, and I rose with her. “I appreciate you coming here. I appreciate the apology. But I need time to process everything. The pregnancy. Sebastian. You. All of it.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to insist we figure this out now, wanted to push until I had answers and plans and some semblance of control over this situation that felt increasingly chaotic.
But pushing wouldn’t help. Wouldn’t make her trust me faster. Would only drive her further away.
“Okay.” I nodded slowly. “Take the time you need. But I’m not disappearing again, Barbara. Even if you don’t see me, I’m watching. I’m making sure you’re safe. I’m….”
“Stalking me?” She raised an eyebrow, and there was a hint of humor beneath the exhaustion.
“Protecting you,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“Debatable.” But some of the tension had eased from her shoulders.
I moved toward the door, then stopped. Turned back. “One more thing.”
“What?”
“I meant it about Sebastian. Whatever he has on you, whatever secret you’re carrying, it doesn’t change anything. Not for me. Not for us. Not for that baby.” I held her gaze, willing her to believe me. “When you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen. And whatever it is, we’ll handle it together.”
She didn’t respond. Just stood there looking small and tired and more alone than anyone should ever look in a house this big.
I let myself out, hearing the door close behind me. Every instinct screamed at me to go back. To stay. To camp out in her foyer until she accepted that I wasn’t leaving.
But instinct wasn’t always right. Sometimes the best way to protect someone was to give them space. To let them come to you instead of forcing proximity they weren’t ready for.
I climbed into my car, hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough to make my knuckles white.
A few weeks ago, I’d been focused on finding Douglas. On revenge and promises and keeping my life compartmentalized. Now everything had exploded into chaos. Barbara. The baby. Sebastian. A web of complications I didn’t know how to untangle.
Vladimir was right. She was mine to protect now.
And I’d die before I let Sebastian Davis touch her again.