Chapter 57
Lev
Ican't breathe.
The study is suffocating despite the open window. Air circulates, but doesn't reach my lungs. I pour vodka with hands that shake, drain the glass, pour again.
It’s confirmed: Valerie is pregnant. She is carrying my child.
I should be happy. Overjoyed. This is everything I lost coming back. A second chance. New life. Family. Hope.
Instead, I'm drowning in this crippling fear because of my past failure.
I failed to protect my first family, and I doubt I deserve a second. Failed to see Patrick's move coming a second time.
The motherfucker seems to always be two steps ahead.
I have failed in the most fundamental way a man can fail.
What if I fail again?
The thought is paralyzing. Valerie's pregnancy means vulnerability. Means nine months of her body changing, becoming slower, more fragile. Means a newborn after that, completely helpless, dependent on me not to fuck up.
And Patrick is still out there.
Wounded now. Vengeful. Rebuilding his forces. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
If he finds out Valerie is pregnant, she becomes the primary target. The baby becomes leverage. Everything becomes exponentially more dangerous.
How do I protect them? How do I ensure I don't fail like I did before?
I don't have answers. Just terror and the crushing weight of responsibility I'm not sure I should be carrying.
I keep drinking until the bottle is empty. Then, I pull out another one and continue drinking.
God, I want this second chance so badly that the desire is physically painful.
Want to see Valerie pregnant with my child. Want to feel the baby move under my hand. Want all the moments I took for granted with Katya.
Want to hold an infant again. Change diapers and lose sleep. Deal with midnight feedings and first smiles.
Want Mila to have a sibling.
Want to believe we can survive this. That love doesn't always end in blood and screaming.
But the fear is stronger.
Because wanting something means it can be taken away. Loving someone means they can die. Hope is just another word for potential devastation.
I learned that lesson brutally five years ago.
And now I'm supposed to forget it? Supposed to embrace vulnerability? Supposed to risk everything again?
I can't.
Except I already have. The baby exists whether I'm ready or not. Valerie is pregnant. The choice has been made.
Now I just have to figure out how not to fail them.
Dawn breaks. Light streams through the window, harsh and unforgiving.
I'm still at my desk. Still drinking. Still drowning in memories and fear.
The door opens without knocking. Mikhail. He takes one look at me and his expression shifts from professional to concerned.
"How long have you been here?"
"All night." My voice is rough. Raw. "Valerie told me she's pregnant."
He goes completely still. "Pregnant."
"Yes."
A pause. Then carefully: "Congratulations, Boss."
"Is it? Congratulations?" I gesture at the empty bottles. "Or is it a death sentence? Another vulnerability for Patrick to exploit? Another chance for me to fail spectacularly?"
"It's a baby." He moves closer. Sits in the chair across from me. "Your baby. With a woman you love. That should be good news."
"Should be. Isn't." I drain the current glass. "All I can think about is Dmitri. How small he was in that crib. How the bullets looked too big for his tiny body. How I failed to protect him."
"That wasn't your fault."
"Wasn't it? I made enemies. I brought danger into their lives. I wasn't there when they needed me most." The words taste like ash. "And now I'm supposed to do it all again? Risk another child? Pretend I'm capable of protecting them when I've already proven I'm not?"
Mikhail is quiet for a moment. Then: "We need to eliminate Patrick before the baby comes. Can't have this threat hanging over a newborn."
The practical observation cuts through the spiral. "No. We can't."
"So we accelerate the timeline. Hunt him down. End this before Valerie starts showing."
"He's been careful. Strategic. We've been searching for weeks with nothing concrete."
"Then we make him come to us." Mikhail leans forward. "Use what he wants against him. Draw him out. Finish this so your child is born into safety instead of war."
It makes sense. Cold, brutal sense.
But the thought of using Valerie as bait while she's pregnant makes my stomach turn.
"I'll think about it." I stand on legs that aren't quite steady. "Right now I need to see her. Need to stop being a coward hiding in my study while she's probably terrified I'm going to reject her."
"Are you? Going to reject her?"
The question stops me at the door. "No. I'm terrified. Paralyzed, actually. But no. She's carrying my child. That makes her untouchable. Sacred. Mine to protect no matter what it costs."
"Good answer."
I leave him there and head upstairs.
Our bedroom door is still closed. I open it quietly, half-expecting her to be gone. Run away rather than face rejection.
But she's there. Curled on the bed in yesterday's clothes, face swollen from crying, eyes red and raw.
She looks up when I enter. Fear flashes across her features before she can hide it.
"Lev—"
I cross to the bed. Sit beside her. Don't speak for a long moment, just look at her. This woman who betrayed me. Who saved me. Who's become everything despite every reason she shouldn't be.
"I'm scared," I say finally. "Absolutely terrified."
Her breath catches. "Me too."
"I failed them. Katya and Dmitri. I wasn't there when they needed me. And the thought of failing again, of losing you or this baby because I'm not fast enough or smart enough or prepared enough..." I have to stop. Breathe. "It's paralyzing."
"I know." She reaches for my hand. "I know, Lev. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry the timing is terrible. I'm sorry this triggers your trauma. I'm sorry for all of it."
"Don't apologize for being pregnant with my child.
" The words come out rougher than intended.
"This isn't your fault. It's just... complicated.
With Patrick still out there. With everything so fragile between us.
With my track record of catastrophic failure when it comes to protecting the people I love. "
"You didn't fail." She says it fiercely. "Patrick killed them. Not you. Patrick pulled those triggers. Patrick made those choices. You were handling business that needed handling. You couldn't have known."
"I should have."
"You're not psychic. You're just a man doing his best in an impossible situation." She shifts closer. "And you've kept Mila safe for five years. You've protected her. Loved her. Given her everything she needed despite your own pain. That's not failure, Lev. That's success."
I want to believe her. Want to accept that maybe I'm not doomed to repeat history.
But the fear won't let go.
"If anything happens to you—" I can't finish the sentence. "If Patrick gets to you or the baby, I won't survive it. Can't. Won't. It'll destroy me completely."
"Then we make sure he doesn't get to us." She takes my hand and places it on her stomach. Flat still. No sign of the life growing there. "We're here. We're real. We need you to be strong enough to protect us."
I feel nothing under my palm. Too early for movement. Too early for evidence beyond test results and morning sickness.
But it's there. Our child. Growing. Becoming.
"I don't know if I can do this," I admit. Brutal honesty. "Don't know if I'm strong enough. Brave enough. Good enough."
"You are." She covers my hand with hers. "You're Lev Volkov. You survive impossible things. You build empires from blood. You protect what's yours with everything you have. And we're yours now. Me and Mila and this baby. Your family. Your responsibility. Your reason to win."
The words settle over me like a vow.
My family. My responsibility. My reason.
I look at her. Really look. See the fear in her eyes that matches my own. See the hope underneath. See the woman who chose me over her own safety, who protected my daughter with her life, who's carrying our child despite knowing how dangerous this world is.
"Okay." The word comes out quiet but firm. "We'll do this. Together."
Relief crashes across her face. "Really?"
"Really." I pull her closer. "But first, we end Patrick. Permanently. I will not bring a child into this world while that man breathes. Will not risk you or the baby while he's out there planning revenge."
"How?"
"I don't know yet. But Mikhail's right. We accelerate the timeline. Hunt him down. Make him come to us if we have to. Whatever it takes." I tilt her face up and kiss her.
She kisses me back. Desperate and relieved, and still terrified, but hopeful, too.
I kiss her back with the same intensity. Pouring everything I can't say into the contact. The fear, hope, and love tangled together.
When we break apart, I rest my forehead against hers. "I'm still scared. Probably will be scared every day until you're holding a healthy baby and Patrick is dead and buried."
"I'm scared too. But we'll figure it out together."
"Together." I stroke her hair. "You and me and Mila and this baby. Our family. Broken and rebuilt wrong, but still ours."
"Still ours." She echoes.
We lie down together. Fully clothed. Just holding each other while dawn light fills the room.
I think about the future. About Valerie pregnant. About a baby in my arms. About Mila as a big sister. About building something good from all the wreckage.
And for the first time since she told me, I let myself feel something other than terror.
Hope. Happiness.
Fragile. Tentative. Easily destroyed.
But there.
"We're going to survive this," Valerie whispers.
"Yes." I pull her closer. "We are. Because failure isn't an option anymore. Not with you. Not with the baby. Not with everything I have to lose."
She falls asleep against my chest. Exhausted from crying and fear and relief.
I stay awake. Planning. Calculating. Preparing for the war that's coming.
Because Patrick O'Rourke made one critical mistake.
He helped the bastard who murdered my family all those years ago, left me alive, and then made the mistake of sending a spy into my home now.
A spy who is now in my bed, with my baby in her belly.
I'll hunt him to the ends of the earth. Burn his entire organization to ash. Make him suffer in ways that become legend.
And when he's finally dead, when his blood has paid for Katya and Dmitri and every sleepless night Mila has endured, then I'll be free.
Free to be a father again. Free to love without paralyzing fear. Free to build the family Patrick stole.
But first, he dies.
And I'm going to enjoy every second of it.