Chapter 21

Lana

We”re in the war room, and it”s all hands on deck. Julia, my rock, my anchor since I was just a four-year-old terror tearing through the neighborhood, is in trouble. The world of the bratva was my entire universe, vast and terrifying, ruled by my father”s iron fist. He was the head of the syndicate, a man whose presence filled every room with fear and respect.

Julia”s entrance into my life was as unexpected as it was life-changing. Her father, Mikhail, was one of my dad”s most loyal men, a true believer in the cause, and he”d brought his family into the fold.

This one time, oh, it was a classic Lana stunt. Managed to get my hands on a box of permanent markers. Thought it”d be brilliant to give the mansion”s white walls a bit of a makeover. Artistic genius, I called it. Dad? Not so much.

He was livid, shouting like he was trying to make his voice echo across all of Russia, pointing at the ”masterpiece” I”d created. Honestly, thought steam might start coming out of his ears. I was in for it, no two ways about it. Then, in swoops Julia, like some kind of guardian angel in sneakers. She was a bit older, always seemed like she knew all the secrets of the universe. Or, at the very least, how to handle my dad when he was in one of his moods.

”I did it,” she declared, standing firm, chin up, even as my dad rounded on her. The courage of her! I was awed, still am when I think about it. Julia, taking the fall for my creative spree, saying she thought it”d cheer up the place. She had this way about her, even then, making you believe she could talk her way out of or into anything.

My dad, he was taken aback. Julia”s dad was his right hand, after all. Couldn”t very well go off on her the same way he would with me. So, he just grumbled something about ”kids these days” and stalked off, leaving us alone.

I remember looking up at her, eyes probably as big as saucers. ”Why”d you do that?” I asked, voice small. I was in awe, completely and utterly in the Julia fan club from that moment on.

She just shrugged, ruffled my hair (which I usually would”ve swatted anyone else for), and said, ”What are friends for, right?”

And just like that, we were thick as thieves. Julia, with her fearless heart and wicked smarts, and me, well, the Bratva princess with a knack for finding trouble. She”s had my back since day one, stepping into my messes, standing by me through the worst of it.

So now, plotting how to get her back, it”s not just duty. It”s personal. They”ve taken my Julia, the one who stood up for me when all I had to offer was my friendship and a shared penchant for mischief. I”d burn the world to ashes to get her back.

If getting Roman out of the picture is what it takes, so be it. The sting of betrayal from Roman cuts deep, but Julia... Julia”s loyalty is unshakeable. For her, I”d go through hell and back, and it looks like hell”s gates are just ahead.

We are mobilizing in preparation for an assault on Perez”s warehouse. It”s a fortress, but every fortress has its weaknesses. And tonight, we exploit every single one.

Sliding into the car, my movements are slower, more deliberate. The pregnancy is a living, breathing, kicking reminder of stakes higher than ever. As I settle in, a sharp pain seizes me, a cruel twist right where my heart and fears lie.

”Ugh,” escapes me before I can help it, my hand instinctively clutching at my belly, trying to shield, to protect.

Grigori”s at my side in an instant. He steadies me, his hands gentle but firm on my belly, his gaze locking with mine. ”Are you okay?”

I nod, drawing a shaky breath, leaning into his arm for support. ”Y-yeah. I”m fine.” But the lie tastes bitter. I”m scared, not for me, but for what”s to come, for the life I”m fiercely determined to bring into a world that”s anything but gentle.

”You sure you”re okay?” Grigori presses, the lines of worry etching deeper into his face.

”Grigori, for the last time, I”m fine,” I snap, more harshly than intended. The mix of adrenaline and fear makes me short-tempered. ”We have bigger problems than my discomfort.”

He doesn”t back down, his stance firm. ”Lana, you leading from the front isn”t just a risk; it”s madness. You”re pregnant.”

”And?” I shoot back, irked. ”You think because I”m pregnant, I can”t handle this? I”ve been dodging bullets and making deals before I could walk properly, Grigori.”

”It”s not about what you can handle,” he argues, his voice softening, trying a different tack. ”It”s about minimizing risks, for you and the baby.”

I hate it, hate that he”s making sense, hate that my condition means concessions. ”And let Julia rot in there because I decided to sit this one out?” I retort, the very thought tightening my chest.

”No, but there are other ways to lead than being on the front line,” he insists, the unyielding protector. ”Let us handle the heavy lifting. You can direct from a safer distance.”

The concern in his eyes, the unspoken fear, chips away at my resolve. He”s not just thinking about me, but about the future, our future. A future that involves a child who didn”t ask to be born into a war zone.

I let out a frustrated breath, the fight going out of me. ”Fine,” I concede, the word tasting like vinegar on my tongue. ”But I”m not hiding. I”ll be right there with you, just... not on the front line.”

Grigori nods. ”That”s all I”m asking, Lana. We need you, all of you, safe.”

I can”t help the smirk that curls my lips. ”You just want to avoid doing paperwork if I get shot.”

He cracks a smile. ”Guilty as charged. You know I hate paperwork more than bullets.”

The banter, familiar and comforting, steadies me.

”Alright, then. I”ll be your eyes and ears from here,” I declare, adjusting the intercom Luca rigged for me. It”s a small comfort, knowing I can still lead, still protect Julia and my team, even from inside the car.

One by one, they gear up. The back of our sturdy SUV, not exactly a minivan but far from your standard vehicle, flips open. Luca, ever the strategist, steps out first, his movements precise and deliberate. The others follow. Weapons, sleek and deadly, are lifted from their cases, checked and loaded with the ease of long practice.

Last to leave is Grigori. But then, when I”m alone, surrounded by the quiet hum of the vehicle and the distant sounds of a night that”s about to explode into violence, I find myself reaching for a cigarette pack. Old habits, right? But then, remembering the life growing inside me, I hesitate and put it away. It”s one of the easier choices I”ve had to make recently.

And then, as if he sensed my moment of weakness, Grigori”s back. He slips into the car again, a shadow returning to the light. Before I can say anything, before I can ask him why he”s back, he presses a kiss to my lips. Then, without a word, he”s gone again, stepping out into the night to face whatever comes our way.

Left alone, I clutch at the lingering warmth of his kiss, letting it fortify me. Taking a deep breath, I steady myself. It”s time to do my part, to be the leader they need from afar.

With my hand on my belly, a silent vow made to the unborn life I carry, I”m ready.

”Grigori, can you hear me?” My voice is steady over the intercom.

”Loud and clear,” comes his response, a hint of something warm in his tone despite the coldness of the situation.

I can”t help the small smile that dances on my lips, even in the midst of tension. ”So, what was that kiss for? Trying to distract me from the mission?” I tease, my heart beating a tad faster, waiting for his reply.

”Just ensuring you have something to fight for,” Grigori counters smoothly, his voice a low thrum over the line that somehow brings a flush to my cheeks.

”Oh, as if I needed more reasons,” I quip back, the banter lightening the heavy air. ”But I”ll accept it as motivation.”

”Good. Because when this is over, I might just demand a rematch.”

”Promises, promises, Grigori. Let”s make sure we all come back in one piece first,” I remind him, the seriousness of the situation reasserting itself.

”We will,” he assures me, and I believe him. ”Just make sure to keep that smile ready for me.”

”I”ll consider it,” I reply, the intercom crackling with our shared laughter before we switch back to the task at hand, our fleeting moment of connection bolstering my resolve. ”What do you see?”

Grigori”s voice is all business now, the soldier taking precedence. ”Perimeter”s quiet. Too quiet. We”re approaching from the east wing, using the cover of the old warehouse for a blind spot. Perez”s men seem lax, not expecting us.”

”Stay sharp. They might be playing it cool,” I advise, scanning the digital map spread out on my lap. The warehouse layout is etched in my mind, every entry and exit point, every possible ambush site.

”We”re in position,” Grigori updates after a tense minute that stretches on. ”Luca”s team is on the west side, ready to create a diversion on your mark.”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. ”On my count, then. Three... two... one... mark.”

The silence that follows is deafening, a held breath in the night. Then, distantly, the muffled sounds of chaos erupt.