Zakhar
Lily is curled up on the couch with a book she said she's been meaning to read for months. She looks peaceful for the first time since I've known her, hair still damp from the shower, wearing soft clothes, her body finally relaxed.
She needs this. Needs to remember what it feels like to just exist without the constant weight of survival crushing her.
I settle at her small kitchen table with her laptop, the one she had open on one of the tables downstairs that first night.
All those red numbers glaring into the dim light of the closed bakery.
She didn't protest when I asked to look at her finances.
Just nodded, exhausted and trusting in a way that made my chest tight.
The numbers are worse than I thought.
Three months behind on rent for the building. Suppliers demanding payment before they'll deliver. Utilities threatening disconnection. Insurance lapsed. She's been juggling debts like a circus act, and the whole thing is about to crash.
She never had a chance.
I pull up a separate window and start making notes. Property value. Business assets. Debts that can be negotiated versus ones that need to be paid immediately. It's a mess, but it's fixable.
Everything is fixable with enough money and the right connections.
My phone buzzes. Iosif.
I glance at Lily. She's absorbed in her book, legs tucked under her, completely unaware. I step into the bedroom and close the door.
"Talk to me," I say.
"The situation's handled," Iosif replies without preamble. "The crew that jumped you? They won't be a problem anymore."
"Dead?"
"Two of them. The third ran to New Jersey. He knows better than to come back."
"Good."
"You owe me for cleaning up your mess,” he grumbles.
"Put it on my tab."
He snorts. "Your tab is getting expensive. The Pakhan is asking questions, Zakhar. He wants to know where you've been, what you're doing."
I let out a frustrated sigh and push my hand through my hair. "Tell him I'm securing my heir situation."
Silence. Then: "You're serious about this woman. After a week."
"Deadly."
More silence. I can practically hear him thinking, trying to figure out if I've lost my mind.
"Does she know what she's getting into?" he asks finally.
"She's learning. I need a favor."
He sighs. "Of course you do."
"I need you to contact Vitali. Have him draw up a prenuptial agreement."
The silence this time is stunned. "A what?"
"Prenup. Full financial protection for Lily in case of divorce or my death. Assets, property, income, everything. I want her set up so she never has to worry again."
"Bratva marriages don't ever end in divorce, Zakhar."
"I know that. She doesn't. She's not Bratva, Iosif. She's anxious, terrified of losing the last shred of what she has left. This will help."
"The Pakhan won't like it."
"The Pakhan doesn't have to like it. This is between me and my future wife."
"Your future—" He stops. Starts again. "You're really doing this."
"Yes. Can you handle it?"
Iosif sighs again, longer this time. "I'll call him. But he's going to argue with you about this. Bratva don't do prenups. It's—"
"I don't care what Bratva traditionally do. I care about making my wife feel safe. Get it done."
“Fine,” he huffs. "I'll call Vitali. Expect pushback. I hope she’s worth it."
I think about the way Lily looked at me this morning, terrified and trusting at the same time. The way she let me hold her while she cried. The way she's fighting so hard to believe this could be real.
"She is," I say. "She's worth everything."
We end the call, and I return to the laptop, making more notes. The bakery can be saved. Not just saved, made profitable. It'll take money and connections, but I have both.
The question is whether Lily wants to keep it.
I return to the living room. She's still reading, completely absorbed. Her coffee mug sits forgotten on the side table, probably cold by now.
I make a fresh cup, exactly how she likes it, and bring it to her.
"Thanks," she says softly, not looking up from her book.
I settle beside her, close but not crowding. Just present.
After a few minutes, she sets the book down and turns to me.
"What were you doing in there?" she asks. "I heard you on the phone."
"Talking to my brother. Sorting some things out."
She's quiet for a moment. "What kind of things?"
"Legal protection. Making sure you're taken care of. The bakery finances."
"Oh—"
"Have you made your decision?" I ask, cutting off whatever protest she was about to make. "About the bakery. About us."
She draws in a shaky breath. "That's not fair. You said I had time."
"You do. I'm just asking if you've started thinking about it."
"I haven't stopped thinking about it."
"And?"
She looks down at her hands, fingers twisting together. "The bakery... I don't know. Part of me wants to keep fighting for it. It was my aunt's dream, and giving up feels like failure."
"It's not failure."
"Maybe not. But it feels like it." She looks up, meeting my eyes. "What do you think I should do?"
"I think you should do whatever makes you happy. If you want to keep the bakery, we can make it work. If you want to let it go, we let it go. Either way, you're taken care of."
"And us?" Her voice drops to almost a whisper. "What about us?"
"What about us?"
"You said you'd walk away from the Bratva for me. Did you mean it?"
"Yes." I reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Because something in you woke up a part of me I didn't know existed.
I've spent my whole life being a soldier for my family.
Following orders. Doing the work no one else wants to do.
I never questioned it. Never wanted anything different. "
"And now?"
"Now I want everything. A home. A wife. Children.
A future that doesn't involve constant violence and blood.
I want mornings like this. Quiet, peaceful, just us.
I want to watch you bake, see you smile without exhaustion weighing you down.
I want to give you everything you've never had time or energy to want for yourself. "
Her eyes are shining with unshed tears. "That's a lot of pressure to put on one person."
"I'm not asking you to be perfect. I'm asking you to be mine."
"What if I can't give you what you need?"
"You already have."
"A baby—"
"Will happen when it happens. Yes, the Pakhan wants an heir. Yes, I'd like children with you. But that's not why I want you, Lily. That's not what this is about."
"Then what is it about?"
I pull her closer, until she's tucked against my side. "It's about finding something worth keeping. Something worth fighting for. Something worth building a life with."
"You make it sound so simple."
"It is simple. The execution might be complicated, but the choice is simple. Do you want this? Want me? Want a future where you're not alone anymore?"
She's quiet for a long time. I can feel her breathing; feel the way her body is tense against mine.
"Yes," she finally whispers. "God help me, yes."
Relief floods through me, so strong it's almost painful. "Say it again."
"Yes. I want this. I want you. I want..." She trails off, face heating.
"Say it."
"I want you to put a baby in me." The words come out rushed, embarrassed. "Is that crazy? After a week?"
"No. It's perfect." I kiss her then, deep and claiming. She melts into me, all that tension finally releasing.
"So, we're doing this?" she asks when we break apart. "Really doing this?"
"Really doing this. But on one condition."
"What?"
"You let me take care of you. No more struggling alone. No more pretending you're fine when you're drowning. You trust me to handle things."
"Okay,” she says, her voice still small, but gaining confidence. “What happens now?"
"Now? We deal with the practical things. The bakery, the finances, the family. I introduce you to my world properly. We figure out what our life looks like."
She's quiet again, processing. Then: "The prenup thing. You were serious about that?"
"Completely. My cousin Vitali is drafting it now. Full financial protection for you. In case of divorce or my death. You'll never have to worry about money again."
"That’s not—"
"It's not negotiable, Lily. You need to feel safe. This helps."
"But I thought trad—"
"Traditions are important and Bratva marriages are for life? I know. And ours will be. But you don't quite believe that yet. Until you believe it, until you trust it completely, you get the prenup. Your safety net."
Tears spill over, tracking down her cheeks. "You're nothing like I expected."
"Don’t be fooled. I'm violent and dangerous and completely obsessed with you. But I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret saying yes."
She kisses me again, soft and sweet and full of promise.