11. Ruslan
11
RUSLAN
"I might be pregnant."
Three words. Five syllables. And suddenly my entire world stops.
Pregnant?
My mind races through calculations. The day of our wedding. The sex we had when she tried to run from having her identity revealed. That had been five weeks ago. It's possible. Very possible.
My heart hammers against my rib cage. A child. My child. Our child . Inside her. That child was growing when that monster Kristofer had his hands on her. When he threatened her.
When he hurt her.
I feel myself sway slightly, rage and terror and something else—something bright and fierce—all swirling together inside me.
"Are you sure?" My voice comes out rough, barely controlled.
Aurora's hazel eyes look up at me, wide with uncertainty. "I don't know for certain. But I'm late, and I'm never late. And the nausea..."
I cross to her side in quick strides, and kneel beside her chair. Taking her slender fingers in mine, I notice they're trembling. Or maybe my hands are the ones trembling.
" Zarechka ," I whisper. "How soon can we find out?"
"Hannah is talking to Daria about getting a pregnancy test." She squeezes my fingers. "It could be nothing. Maybe it's just stress. Everything that's happened…"
"Or it could be something." I can't help but stroke her cheek, just below where that bastard's handprint is still fading.
I'm trying to keep my expression neutral, but inside, I'm drowning in contradictions. Elation that she might carry my child. Terror that this will put her in even more danger. Guilt that I wasn't there to protect her from Kristofer.
Underneath it all, a fierce, primal possessiveness that makes me want to hide her away from the world where nothing can ever hurt her or our potential child again.
The door swings open and Hannah rushes in, slightly out of breath. In her hand is a small pink box.
"Got one," she announces, holding up what must be the pregnancy test. She glances between Aurora and me, her expression softening. "One of the staff is trying right now so she let me have this one."
I watch Aurora rise from her chair, steadying herself slightly against the table. Her face is pale, but there's determination in her eyes as she takes Hannah's hand. My heart squeezes painfully in my chest.
"I'll be right back," Aurora says, leaning down to press her lips against mine.
The kiss is brief, tentative, like she's afraid of what I might be thinking. I cup her cheek gently, mindful of the bruise that's still healing there.
"I'll be waiting," I promise.
As she walks away with Hannah, I remain frozen in spot, watching her retreating form.
I've never imagined myself as a father. Not after what happened with Leslie. Not after seeing what being Vitaly's son did to Lev and me.
The bratva and fatherhood seem incompatible.
One demands cruelty, and the other tenderness.
But now, as I picture Aurora with our baby, something breaks open inside me. I want this. I want her carrying my child. I want to shield them both from every danger this world contains.
And that's when the fear crashes over me.
What kind of father would I be? A pakhan who demands obedience? A man who couldn't protect the woman he loved from a monster who stalked her across the country? Or something different entirely?
My fingers clench into fists. If she's pregnant, every threat becomes magnified. Semyon. Tamara. Kristofer. They wouldn't just be coming for Aurora or me.
They'd be coming for our child too.
I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. The fear is choking me, but beneath it lies something else. Something deeper. Something that makes me want to tear down mountains and drain oceans if that's what it takes to keep her safe.
It's not just concern or duty or obligation driving these feelings.
It's love.
Pure, devastating love that I've been afraid to name until this moment. I love her in a way I never thought possible after Leslie. I love her strength, her resilience, her fierce determination. I love how she faced down Potyomkin and won. I love how she comforted Mikayla when I couldn't.
I love her, and it terrifies me more than any gun pointed at my head ever could.
I feel a hand on my shoulder, pulling me from the tornado of thoughts about fatherhood. Turning, I find Vera with her knowing gaze fixed on me.
"I recognize that look on your face," she says softly. "My Slava had the same expression when I told him I was pregnant."
"Did he?"
She nods, her delicate fingers still resting on my shoulder. "First shock, then panic, then that look in your eyes. Like you're mentally building fortresses."
"Will I be a good father?" The question escapes before I can stop it. It sounds childish coming from the pakhan of the Dragunov bratva, but in this moment, I'm just a man terrified of repeating history.
Vera considers me, her eyes kind but not pitying. "I don't know you well enough to answer that. But the fact you're even asking the question." She smiles gently. "That's a good sign. Poor fathers rarely ask that."
"There are so many things I need to prepare," I mutter, my mind already racing. "Security protocols, a better doctor than a bratva medic, maybe a full OBGYN suite, books about how to raise kids, a nursery?—"
"Ruslan," Vera interrupts with surprising firmness. "Breathe. She needs your presence more than she needs your preparations."
I notice Vera's hand trembling slightly against my shoulder.
That's when I realize. This must be difficult for her as well. Forced to be far away from her own husband while carrying his child.
"You miss him."
Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, but her voice remains steady. "Every moment. But I know what's at stake. For all of us."
Despite everything she's enduring, she's here comforting me. I cover her hand with mine, a silent acknowledgment of her sacrifice.
"Thank you," I tell her, meaning it more than she could know.
She nods, understanding passing between us as we wait.
A moment later, the sound of footsteps causes me to look up.
Aurora approaches with Hannah, their fingers intertwined in silent support. My eyes fix on Aurora's face, searching for any clue before she speaks.
She looks up at me, those hazel eyes wide and luminous. Her lips tremble slightly, then curve into a tentative smile.
"I'm pregnant," she whispers.
Everything narrows to this one moment, this single confession floating in the air between us.
Pregnant.
She's pregnant.
"You're certain?" My voice comes out strange, half-strangled with emotion.
She nods, lifting the small white stick in her hand. "Two lines. Both very clear."
I cross the distance between us in two strides and gather her into my arms, careful to be gentle with her still-bruised body. I bury my face in her hair, breathing in the faint scent of coconut.
"A baby," I murmur against her temple. "Our baby."
She pulls back slightly, searching my face. "You're happy about this?"
"Happy?" I repeat, almost laughing at the inadequacy of the word. " Zarechka , I'm." I struggle to find the right words, emotions overwhelming me. "I never thought I'd have this. A family of my own."
I place my hand gently on her still-flat stomach, stunned by the miracle growing beneath my palm. Something fierce and protective surges through me, making my chest tight and my eyes burn.
Aurora's tears start falling, happiness radiating from her smile despite the wetness on her cheeks. I find myself matching her expression, my chest so full I can barely breathe.
Then her smile falters as a shadow crosses her face.
"What is it, zarechka ?" I brush a tear from her cheek with my thumb, careful to avoid the bruising.
"I just..." Her voice catches. "I wish my parents were alive to see this. To meet you. To know that they're going to be grandparents."
My heart twists painfully in my chest. I take her hands in mine, feeling their delicate strength.
"I know," I whisper, because what else can I say? No words will bring her family back.
"But that's why it's so important we do this documentary," she continues, squeezing my fingers. "I need to show the world what Kristofer took from me. What he stole from our child."
I nod, pulling her closer. "And I'll be here to do it with you."
"We should tell the girls," she says, her expression brightening slightly. "Tell them they're going to have a little cousin of their own."
The thought lightens my heart too. Mikayla, Sofia, and Stella will be thrilled—especially the younger ones. I can already picture them fighting over who gets to hold the baby first.
But beneath this momentary joy, a darker thought intrudes.
Tamara.
This pregnancy is one more thing for her to hate Aurora for. Not only has Aurora taken me—the man Tamara has obsessed over for decades—but now she carries what Tamara always wanted: my child. A family with me.
The thought of Tamara's rage only intensifies the protective fire burning inside me. I place my hand gently on Aurora's stomach again, making a silent vow to our unborn child.
I will protect you both from all our enemies.
From Semyon's greed. From Kristofer's obsession. From Tamara's jealousy.
And this time, I swear to myself, I won't fail.
I can't.