Chapter 23 - Anja
I am curled up in the oversized armchair in my bedroom suite, a thick paperback open on my lap, when Alexey’s call comes through.
The suite feels like a sanctuary tonight with its soft cream walls warmed by the glow of a single reading lamp, heavy silk drapes drawn against the night, and the faint scent of lavender from the fresh flowers on the nightstand.
My growing belly makes it harder to find a comfortable position, but I have managed to wedge a pillow behind my back and another under my knees. The baby is active tonight, with small twitches and kicks, constantly reminding me that our world is expanding in ways I still can’t fully grasp.
When my phone lights up with Alexey’s name, I answer immediately.
“It’s done.” His voice is low and steady, the way it always is after a long night of work.
“Tell me.” I sit up a little straighter, heart picking up speed.
He gives me the broad strokes about the warehouse ambush Fadir attempted, the false intel they fed him to let him believe he’d won for a few critical hours, then the surgical takedown.
Accounts frozen. Remaining allies flipped or removed.
His name dragged through every circle that once feared him until it became synonymous with failure and weakness.
Alexey and Tikhon effectively killed Fadir’s way of life and businesses, not with bullets, but with precision that left nothing behind but ruins.
When he finishes, there is a quiet pause on the line.
“He’s a ghost now,” Alexey says finally. “No longer a threat worth mentioning.”
“It’s really over,” I exhale slowly, the relief hitting me like a wave.
“Almost,” he replies, that careful edge still in his voice. “ But yes… It’s over.”
We speak for a few more minutes with soft reassurances, his promise to be home soon, then my quiet “be safe” before we hang up. I set the phone down on the side table and stare at the book in my lap without seeing the words.
News spreads quietly through the Sokolov circles that Fadir’s empire has fully collapsed—his remaining allies have scattered, and he is no longer a threat worth mentioning.
The relief should feel like victory.
Instead, it leaves an unexpected emptiness in its wake.
For the first time in months, the constant thoughts of revenge lift, and I’m forced to face what comes next: a future that no longer has a clear enemy to focus on.
I close the book and set it aside, one hand automatically moving to rest over the curve of my belly.
The baby kicks softly, as if sensing the shift in my mood.
The pregnancy has made everything feel bigger...
emotions, fears, hopes. Tonight, with the war against Fadir truly ending, the weight of everything I’ve survived settles over me differently.
My phone buzzes with incoming texts.
Katya: Just heard. It’s over. Breathe, Anja. You did it.
Arina: Fucking finally. Come over tomorrow if you want. We’ll celebrate properly—no men allowed. You okay?
I smile despite the strange hollowness in my chest and type back quickly.
Me: I’m okay. Relieved. It feels… weird. Like I’ve been running toward something for so long, and now I don’t know what to do with my hands.
Katya: That feeling is normal. The first time the threat is really gone, the silence can be loud. Call me anytime.
Arina: You survived him. You helped destroy him. Now you get to live. We’ll help you figure out what that looks like.
Their words bring a lump to my throat. These women, completely fierce yet warm and unshakeable, have become more than allies.
They’ve become family in a way I never expected.
I breathe through the emotion, pregnancy hormones making the relief and the emptiness swirl together until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
The constant image of revenge has lifted.
Now I can face the future without it.
I think about the months that led us here.
The warehouse rescue. The deal was struck in fury.
Late-night sessions where Alexey’s quiet competence slowly chipped away at my walls.
Public appearances where his hand at the small of my back felt safer than it should have.
The night the tension finally snapped, and we crossed every line we drew.
The pregnancy test. The move to the compound.
The way Alexey has kept choosing me, even as Fadir’s lies and desperate moves tried to tear everything apart, made me realize I have found what the future holds for me.
My old black-and-white view of the world, where Bratva equals evil, all of them monsters like Fadir.
Those men are loud. They enjoyed the fear.
Alexey is none of those things.
He is patient and fiercely protective in a way that still sometimes terrifies me because it feels too good to be true. He gives me space when I need it. He holds me when the old fears rise up and never once makes me feel weak for them.
The war with Fadir is truly over.
But the real battle, learning to trust this life, learning to believe I deserve the safety and love Alexey keeps offering without conditions, is only beginning.
I lie back against the pillows, one hand still resting over my belly where our child moves restlessly. The future stretches out in front of me without a clear enemy to fight, and the emptiness feels strangely freeing and terrifying at the same time.
I don’t know what comes next.
But for the first time, I think I might be ready to find out.
My phone buzzes again—a simple message from Alexey.
Alexey: Heading home soon. Need anything?
I smile softly and type back.
Me: Just you.
The reply comes almost immediately.
Alexey: On my way.
I set the phone down and close my eyes, letting the quiet of the suite wrap around me. The relief is real. The victory is real.
But so is the new chapter waiting for us once the last memories of Fadir disappear completely.
And I’m starting to believe we might actually be ready to write it together.
***
The pregnancy is now well into the third trimester, and my body feels both heavy and fragile.
That evening, I sit on the sofa with Alexey in the quiet living room of our wing at the family compound. One hand rests over my rounded belly where our child kicks strongly, as if sensing the storm of emotions swirling inside me.
The hormones amplify everything, and the fear that I might not be strong enough for this life, the heavier emotions that rise without warning, and the persistent worry that I’m bringing a baby into a world of jeopardy I once swore I’d never touch.
The fire is low in the hearth, casting a warm, flickering glow across the room. Alexey sits beside me, his arm draped along the back of the sofa, fingers occasionally brushing my shoulder in that quiet, steady way of his.
He doesn’t push. He never does. He simply waits, patient as always, giving me the space to find my words.
I stare at the flames for a long moment before the confession slips out.
“I still feel like I'm destined to be temporary in anyone’s life,” I whisper, voice thick with the weight of it all. “Even now, with everything Fadir took from me gone… I still doubt whether I can truly be a Bratva wife and mother without losing myself.”
The words hang between us, raw and honest in a way I rarely allow. But so has the silence left behind now that the constant threat of revenge has lifted. For months, fighting Fadir gave me purpose. Now that he’s reduced to a ghost, I’m left facing the future without that clear enemy to focus on.
Alexey listens without interruption. His quiet patience has slowly become my anchor, though neither of us realized it was happening.
He shifts closer, gently pulling me against his side.
His large hand covers mine where it rests over the baby, warm and steady.
The child kicks again, stronger this time, as if responding to his father’s touch.
“I know that fear,” he says quietly, his voice a low rumble against my hair. “I’ve carried my own version of it for years.”
I tilt my head to look at him, surprised.
Alexey rarely shares his vulnerabilities so openly.
He is the patient brother, the methodical enforcer, and the one who waits for the perfect strike rather than rushing in with rage.
Hearing him admit to cracks in his own armor cracks something deep inside me.
His thumb keeps drawing circles on the back of my hand.
“I’ve always been the one who plans. The one who waits.
Tikhon charges forward. I calculate. But that patience…
it comes with a cost. There’s a fear that my methodical nature might make me too distant as a father.
That I’ll be so focused on keeping everyone safe that I forget to simply be present.
That our child will look at me one day and see only the enforcer, not the man who loves them. ”
This kind of honesty steals my breath. For the first time, I let myself lean fully into him without the excuse of strategy or revenge.
No deal hanging over us. No public performance for cameras.
Just us, two people who have survived their own versions of hell and somehow found each other in the middle of it.
The war is really over.
But still there's this heaviness of everything I’ve survived, and the future I’m carrying still sits heavily on my chest.
“I’m closer to trusting this life than ever before,” I admit softly, tears pricking at my eyes.
The pregnancy hormones make the emotion swell until it feels overwhelming.
“But the doubt still lingers. Can I really handle raising our child in this world? I ran all that when I was eighteen because I was terrified of becoming another casualty in someone else’s problems. I swore I’d never bring a child into a distressed life like that.
Now here I am… married to a Sokolov, pregnant with your baby, living in this beautiful compound surrounded by protection I never thought I’d have. What if I can’t do it without repeating the cycle of fear I ran from?”
Alexey’s arm tightens around me. He doesn’t rush to reassure me with empty promises. Instead, he rests his chin on top of my head and speaks with that same quiet honesty.
“You won’t repeat the cycle,” he says. “Because you’re not your parents.
You’re not running anymore. You’re choosing to stay and build something better.
And you won’t do it alone. I won’t be the distant father I fear becoming.
I’ll be here…every night, every appointment, every moment you need me.
The Sokolovs protect their own. That includes you.
That includes our child. The code isn’t about power or fear.
It’s about loyalty. About making sure the people we love never have to hide in closets or wonder if they’re disposable. ”
His words settle over me like a warm blanket, easing some of the tightness in my chest. I turn slightly in his arms so I can look up at him. The firelight catches the sharp line of his jaw, the faint scar I once traced with trembling fingers. His brown eyes have become my safest harbor.
“I’m scared I’ll disappear in this world,” I whisper.
“You won’t,” he replies, without hesitation. “Because I see you, Anja. The woman who survived back home. The woman who helped destroy the man who tried to break her. The woman who will be an incredible mother. You’re not temporary. You’re not forgettable. You’re the center of everything now.”
Tears slip down my cheeks. I don’t try to stop them. Instead, I let myself cry in his arms—not from fear this time, but from the overwhelming relief of being truly seen. The walls I built around my heart have been cracking for months. Tonight, they crumble a little more.
The war with Fadir is truly over.
But the real work—learning to trust this life, learning to believe I deserve the love and safety Alexey keeps offering without conditions—is only beginning.
I nestle closer, my rounded belly pressed between us, our child kicking softly as if agreeing with the changes happening in the room. Alexey’s hand stays protectively over mine, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles.
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” I admit quietly.
“You don’t have to be ready all at once,” he murmurs, his lips brushing across mine. “We’ll figure it out together. One day at a time.”
For the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t feel like a battlefield I have to survive alone. It feels like something I might actually want to build—if I can let myself believe it’s possible.
The doubt still lingers in my chest, quiet but present.
But so does hope.
As I sit here on the sofa with Alexey, his steady heartbeat under my cheek and his hand warm over our child, I realize I’m closer to trusting this life, and this man, than I’ve ever been. All the old darkness I ran from, all that illegal mess is fading into the past.
Maybe it's time to step into the light. Maybe I'm finally ready.