8. Egor
EGOR
The warehouse reeks of sweat and rust, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood.
My knuckles ache, my fingers still curled into fists from the last time they connected with flesh.
The man slumped in the chair before me wheezes, his breath coming in wet, ragged gasps.
His face is a mess of bruises and split skin, his left eye swollen shut. Doesn't matter. He'll talk.
I lean down, my shadow swallowing him whole. "Last chance," I growl, my voice low, dangerous. "Tell me how your leader keeps finding out about the shipment schedule, then I'll let you go."
The man spits blood onto the concrete floor, his lips curling into a broken grin. "You think I'm stupid, Vetrov? I know how this ends."
I straighten, my jaw tightening. My fingers twitch at my side, itching to wrap around his throat. But I don't. Not yet. "You're already dead," I say, my tone flat, final. "The only question is how much pain you want before you go."
He laughs, the sound wet and gurgling. "You're so fucking predictable." His good eye flickers to the side, toward the door where Pavel stands, arms crossed, watching.
"Do you think she's still working for them?" Pavel asks.
I glare at Pavel before turning back to the man. "Tell the woman who gave you the schedule a month ago to stop before I regret letting her go."
"What woman?"
My spine stiffens. "The one you sent to work for me."
The man's grin widens, his teeth stained red. "impossible. We don't do that to our women."
His words hit me like a bullet to the chest. My breath stills, my pulse roaring in my ears.
My vision tunnels, my hands clenching into fists. "You're lying."
The man coughs, a wet, rattling sound. "Am I?" He tilts his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Let me go, and we can ask everyone back at our headquarters."
I don't move. Don't breathe. The warehouse fades around me, the world narrowing to the man in front of me and the weight of his words.
It can't be.
My fingers flex, my nails biting into my palms. "Pavel."
Pavel steps forward, his expression unreadable. "Pakhan?"
"Find her," I say, my voice deadly calm. "Now."
Pavel nods, already pulling out his phone. The man in the chair watches us, his laughter low and mocking. "Who? Need my help?"
He laughs, but I don't mind him. All I can think about is her.
Emilia. My karamelka. The way I treated her… fuck. The accusations. The humiliation. The way I quickly believed she was guilty. The way I believed it without question.
My vision blurs, my breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. I remember the way she looked at me when I accused her.
Her eyes wide, her lips parted in shock, like I'd just stabbed her in the chest. And I had. I'd taken her trust and shattered it into a thousand pieces.
I turn away from the man in the chair, my hands shaking. Fuck. I need to find her. Need to fix this. Need to make her understand?—
"Pakhan." Pavel's voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp and urgent. He holds out his phone, the screen glowing with a single message.
Found her.
I snatch the phone from his hand, my pulse hammering in my throat. The address is a shithole neighborhood with some rundown apartment building with peeling paint and broken windows. My fingers tighten around the phone, my jaw clenching. She's been living there. Alone. Scraping by. While I?—
I don't finish the thought. I can't.
I shove the phone back at Pavel, my voice a growl. "Get the car. Now."
The car rolls to a stop across from a squat brick building, its neon OB-GYN sign flickering like a dying heartbeat. My fingers dig into the leather seat, my pulse a drumbeat in my throat.
"What are we doing here? Aren't we going to her apartment?"
"Pakhan, our men have tracked her since she left to go here."
So she's here. My eyes lock on the clinic doors, my breath shallow. Then movement. A flash of cognac hair, the curve of a shoulder I know better than my own.
Emilia.
She steps out, her head down, her fingers clutching something tight against her chest.
My door is open before I realize I've moved.
The sidewalk is cold beneath my boots, the late afternoon air sharp with salt and exhaust. She doesn't see me. Doesn't hear me. Her focus is on whatever's in her hand, her lips parted, her brow furrowed. The wind tugs at her hair, whipping strands across her face, but she doesn't brush them away.
I cross the street in three strides, my shadow falling over her but she doesn't look up.
She just keeps on staring at a piece of paper that is in her hand.
My hand closes around it. And it's a photo.
A fucking ultrasound.
Then I see her name.
My chest seizes. My vision tunnels, the world narrowing to that single image, the grainy black and white, the tiny curled shape, the life inside her. My throat tightens, my breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
Emilia snatches the photo back, her fingers trembling. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
I don't answer. Can't. My voice is gone, swallowed by the roar in my ears. I reach for her, my hand cupping her face, my thumb brushing her cheek. She flinches, but I don't let her pull away.
"Karamelka." My voice is rough, raw. "You're?—"
"Don't." Her voice cracks, her eyes glistening. "Don't act like you care."
The words hit me like a blade. I deserve this. Fuck, I deserve worse. But the sight of her…pregnant, carrying my child, it undoes me. My knees nearly buckle, my free hand gripping her hip to steady myself.
"It's mine." The words tear from my throat, a growl, a prayer. "Tell me it's mine."
Her jaw tightens, her chin lifting. "What makes you think it is?"
My grip on her tightens, my fingers digging into her skin.
"Because I know." My voice drops, a dark promise.
"I know exactly when it happened. I know how many times I fucked you.
I know how hard I came inside you." My thumb presses against her bottom lip, my breath hot against her face.
"And I know you weren't with anyone else. "
Her breath hitches, her pupils dilating. She wants to deny it. I see it in the way her lips part, in the way her body leans into mine despite herself. But she doesn't. She can't.
Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. My heart hammers against my ribs, my entire world narrowing to the woman in front of me… the woman carrying my child.
I drop to my knees.
Emilia gasps, her free hand flying to my shoulder. "Egor, what the hell?—"
I press my face against her stomach, my arms wrapping around her waist. She stiffens, her fingers tangling in my hair, but I don't care. I need this. Need to feel her. Need to know this is real.
"Karamelka." My voice breaks. "Forgive me."
The concrete is cold beneath my knees, but I don't feel it. All I feel is the warmth of her body, the way her fingers tremble in my hair, the way her breath shudders above me.
Her hand tightens, nails digging into my scalp. "Get up."
I don't move. Can't. My throat burns, my chest too tight. "Emilia?—"
"No." Her voice is steel, but her body betrays her… her thighs trembling, her stomach fluttering beneath my cheek. "You don't get to do this. Not after everything."
I press my lips to the fabric of her shirt, right over where our child grows. Her breath hitches. "I was wrong."
"You threw me out." Her voice cracks, and it's a knife to my gut. "You let them humiliate me. You didn't even listen?—"
"I know." My hands slide up her back, pulling her closer. She resists, but only for a second. Then she's leaning into me, her body softening just enough to give me hope.
Fuck. I'm on my feet in an instant, my hands cupping her face, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes are wet, her lips parted, and I want to kiss her so badly it hurts. "I was stupid. I didn't think to ask about your side because I was scared."
She flinches. "Scared?"
"Of this." My thumb brushes her cheekbone. "Of you. Of how much I wanted you. Of how much I needed you to be real." My voice drops, rough with shame. "I've never needed anything in my life. And then you—" I swallow hard. "You made me weak."
Her breath shudders. "And now?"
"Now I'm begging."
"Why come back now? After a month? Did you find out it isn't me?"
"Karamelka, yes, I found out you weren't involved." My fingers tighten against her skin, my pulse hammering in my throat.
Her eyes flash, dark and wounded. "I see. How could you not trust me before that?"
The question carves into me. I deserve it. Every ounce of her anger, her hurt… I deserve it. My jaw clenches, my teeth grinding. "Because I was a fool." The words scrape out of me, raw. "Because I let my past blind me. Because I was so fucking scared of needing you that I pushed you away instead."
Her breath hitches, her chest rising and falling too fast. She doesn't pull away, though. Doesn't slap me. Just stares at me with those caramel eyes, waiting.
I exhale, my forehead pressing against hers. "I'm sorry." The words are a whisper, a vow. "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. To both of you." My hand drifts down, my palm flattening against her stomach.
"It's no use." Her hands push against my chest, but I don't let go. I can't. Not when she's carrying my child. Not when she's the only thing that's ever made me feel human.
"Emilia—"
"Leave." Her voice is a whisper, but it cuts deeper than any blade. "Or I swear to God, Egor, I will disappear. I'll leave Brighton Beach. You'll never see me again. You'll never see him…" She presses her hand to her stomach, her fingers splaying wide. "…or her ever again."
The threat hits me like a bullet. My hands drop, my body going cold. She steps back, her chin trembling, her eyes burning with a fire I've never seen before.
She means it.
I should fight. Should grab her, throw her over my shoulder, lock her away where she can't run. But the look in her eyes… fuck. It's the same look she gave me when I accused her of betrayal. The same look that gutted me.
So I let her go.
My hands clench at my sides, my jaw so tight it aches. "This isn't over."
She doesn't answer. Just turns and walks away, her back straight, her steps steady. Like she's not carrying my entire world inside her.
I watch her go.
And for the first time in my life, I let someone walk away.