Chapter 23 Rowan
ROWAN
“We’re not going home,” Lila declares the moment the hospital doors slide closed behind us.
The evening air is colder than it looks, dry and sharp in my lungs.
I instinctively pull my coat tighter around me, and beside me, Lila does the same, her shoulders lifting against the chill.
A thin dusting of snow clings to the edges of the sidewalk and the tops of parked cars, softening everything just enough to make it look quieter than it is.
I turn toward her, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. “We both have early shifts,” I remind her, though my voice lacks conviction.
“I don’t care,” she insists, stepping in front of me so I can’t simply walk past her. Her eyes are still glassy from earlier, rimmed pink, but the softness has been replaced by resolve. “You just told me you’re pregnant. We’re not treating that like it’s routine.”
A cold gust lifts a few strands of her hair and sends a fine scatter of the powdery snow skimming across the sidewalk. She pushes her hair back, tucking it behind her ear as she pulls her coat tighter around herself.
She gestures toward the street. “There’s a diner four blocks over. The one with the neon sign that never turns off. We can sit for twenty minutes. Fries. Pie. Milkshakes. I don’t even care what. We are acknowledging this.”
I hesitate, but not because I object to celebrating.
My thoughts are already miles ahead, picturing Kiren’s face when I tell him.
I want to hold onto that moment, keep it unshared for just a little longer.
But twenty minutes won’t change that. And for the first time in weeks, I feel lighter, as though something inside me has opened rather than tightened.
“Fine,” I concede, lifting my hands in surrender. “Twenty minutes.”
“That’s my girl,” she replies, looping her arm briefly through mine as we step toward the curb.
Leo brings the SUV to a smooth stop directly in front of us, as seamless as ever. The engine idles low and even, the headlights washing pale light across the pavement. He steps out immediately, scanning the street with the constant vigilance that never leaves him, even in seemingly quiet moments.
Karp exits from the front passenger side at the same time. He doesn’t speak. He never does unless it’s necessary. His presence is broad and immovable, his shoulders squared beneath his jacket as his eyes sweep the sidewalk, the parking lot, and the street beyond.
“Evening, Doc,” Leo greets calmly as he opens the rear passenger door.
“Evening, Leo,” I reply, then add, “Change of plans. We’re heading to the diner on Westbrook.”
Leo inclines his head once. “Understood.”
Lila glances past us toward the parking lot, where her car sits under a light dusting of snow. For a second, it looks like she’s calculating the distance.
“I’ll just leave it,” she says. “I can grab it after dinner.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know.” She pulls her coat tighter and gives me a look that ends the argument before it starts. “I’m riding with you.”
Leo holds open the back door, and she slides in beside me. The door shuts with a firm click, sealing us inside.
The quiet inside the SUV feels worlds apart from the city's hum outside. Karp sits forward in his seat, his posture attentive, one forearm resting against the center console as he watches through the windshield.
Leo merges into traffic smoothly.
Lila exhales, leaning back. “I can’t believe this,” she whispers, turning toward me. “You’re going to be a mother.”
The word resonates differently now.
Mother.
I let it sink in, my hand drifting to my abdomen again before I think about it. My coat lifts and falls with each breath. Nothing looks different. And yet everything is.
Twenty minutes. That’s all this detour is supposed to be before I go home and stand in front of Kiren and tell him, watching the exact moment his world changes to make room for this.
The city moves past the tinted windows, ordinary and unaware. Two blocks from the hospital, the light ahead turns yellow, washing the intersection in a dull yellow color. Leo slows, the SUV coasting forward like it’s done this a hundred times before.
Then Karp changes. It’s subtle at first. He leans forward a fraction, his attention locking onto something along the cross street.
“Van,” he mutters.
Before Leo can respond, headlights streak across the intersection. A white van surges through the yellow light and cuts sharply in front of us, angling sideways until it blocks the lane entirely.
Leo hits the brakes, and the SUV lurches to a stop.
Karp is already reaching into his jacket as the van's rear doors fly open in perfect unison. Four men step out, spreading with purpose. There’s no shouting, no pause. Just coordinated movement.
“Stay inside,” Leo barks, the calm stripped from his voice.
The first gunshot slams into the windshield before either man fully clears their weapons. The impact detonates through the cabin with a violent crack that rattles my teeth. The glass doesn’t shatter. It fractures outward in a spreading web of white lines, opaque but intact.
Another round hits. Then another.
Lila’s screams, her hand clamping onto my arm.
Leo repositions to back the SUV out, trying to angle us out of the block.
Karp’s door flies open. Cold air rushes in as he steps out in one fluid motion, weapon already raised. He stays tight to the reinforced passenger-side frame, using the engine block and door as cover while firing toward the van. The attackers scatter, dropping behind its open doors.
A shot cracks through the air. The round slices through the open passenger-side doorway before Karp can fully block it.
Leo jerks hard. A sharp breath tears from him as blood spreads across his shoulder. He keeps his hand on the wheel.
Karp pivots instantly, adjusting his stance to seal the opening, firing toward the new muzzle flash while dragging the passenger door wider to shield the cabin.
Another round slams into the spiderwebbed windshield. The glass holds. Boots pound against pavement. Muzzle flashes strobe in the dark.
Inside the SUV, the air fills with the acrid sting of gunfire and ruptured powder. Everything compresses into noise and motion.
Karp pivots again, angling himself to cover Leo while returning fire in controlled bursts. One attacker drops hard behind the van door. But they aren’t retreating. They’re advancing.
A second attacker breaks from cover and sprints low along the SUV's blind side. The rear passenger door on my side is violently yanked open. Hands reach in.
I move on instinct, slamming my elbow toward the nearest throat. My forearm connects solidly. A grunt. A stagger. I surge toward the opening. An arm snakes around my waist from behind and wrenches me backward. My spine slams against the seat.
Lila screams, raw and panicked.
I twist, bracing my heel against the door frame to anchor myself. I throw my head back and feel it connect. A curse explodes against my ear.
Outside, Karp shouts something in Russian and fires again. Another shot answers. He stumbles, just slightly, but stays upright.
Leo, bleeding heavily now, forces himself upright in the driver’s seat and fires one-handed out the driver’s side window toward the van.
A hand clamps around my wrist and twists until pain forces my fingers open. Another arm locks across my chest and hauls upward. My feet leave the floor. I swing at the nearest face, knuckles cracking against bone hard enough to sting. The man barely reacts.
They reposition smoothly around me, anticipating resistance. They drag me toward the van. My shoes scrape against the asphalt. The night air tears into my lungs in ragged pulls. I get one last glimpse of Karp slamming one of the men to the ground, driving him into the pavement violently.
Leo collapses against the hood of the SUV, still trying to aim. He’s alive. Karp is still fighting.
Relief flashes through me even as I’m hauled toward the van.
Then I’m thrown inside, my shoulder striking the cold metal as the doors slam shut behind me.
Before I can orient myself, Lila is shoved in after me.
Her body collides with mine, her shoulder striking my side hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.
The impact forces me forward onto my hands again.
The van doors slam shut with a heavy clang that reverberates through the enclosed space. The engine roars. We lurch forward instantly, momentum throwing me sideways as the vehicle accelerates into traffic.
I scramble upright despite the hands already reaching for me. My wrists are seized and yanked behind my back with bruising force. My knees slide against the metal floor as I twist to look at Lila.
“Are you hurt?” I demand, my voice tight.
Lila shakes her head rapidly, tears streaking down her cheeks in uneven tracks. Her breathing comes in broken gasps, her shoulders trembling as she tries to sit upright while someone restrains her arms.
“I’m okay,” she chokes out, though the fear in her eyes is unmistakable.
That’s when the fear really hits. Not the sharp kind I felt in the SUV. Something deeper. But not for me. For the small, fragile truth I’ve barely said out loud. For the life inside me that Kiren doesn’t even know about yet.
If this ends here and I disappear into whatever plan has been set in motion, he’ll never know that there was more. He’ll tear the city apart looking for me. I have no doubt about that. But he won’t know what he’s really fighting for.
A hand clamps around my jaw before I can fully process it.
A cloth presses against my mouth and nose.
The smell is acrid and chemical, burning the inside of my nostrils.
I jerk my head away, twisting my neck with enough force to strain the muscles.
My teeth snap down reflexively, but I catch only fabric.
“Hold her,” a voice mutters near my ear, low and irritated.
Fingers dig into my cheeks, forcing my face upward. A sudden sting bites into the side of my neck. It’s quick. Cold spreads outward from the puncture, radiating in widening pulses.
I thrash against the arms holding me, driving my shoulder backward and attempting to kick with what leverage I have. My muscles respond at first, tightening, fighting the intrusion with instinctive resistance.
The van swerves, the tires skidding briefly over the thin layer of snow as we take the turn too fast.
Lila is crying. I know she is. I can hear it, thin and shaking, but it already sounds far away. The cold is worse now. It creeps through my coat and into my bones. My hands feel numb, and my feet feel distant.
The van jolts again, and my vision blurs at the edges. The overhead light smears when I try to focus on it.
Stay awake.
I force my eyes wider, searching for something solid to lock onto. The seam in the metal wall. The hinge on the rear doors. Anything that doesn’t move. But my head feels heavy.
Kiren’s face rises in my mind easily. Not the controlled version he shows the world. The way he looks at me when he forgets to guard it.
He doesn’t know.
It’s the only thing that feels clear.
He doesn’t know.
My fingers won’t move the way I tell them to. My body feels too heavy, like it’s sinking into the floor beneath me. Lila says my name, but it stretches and warps, like it’s being pulled underwater.
The hum of the engine grows louder. Or maybe everything else is fading. I try to hold onto one clear thing.
He doesn’t know.
Darkness rushes in before I can stop it. And then the world goes silent.
A message from Kat Steele:
Welcome, amazing readers, to another Bratva series! I tried something a little bit different with this one, so let me know if you like it. But if you’re itching to know what happens next, you know what to do…
Yes, I want to read His To Protect: Book 2 of the Sovarin Bratva series!