Chapter 52

Chapter 49

Sophia

"I CAME here for Yulia," I snap, though my voice quivers, betraying the lie. "Not to…to…"

Fuck you. God knows I am so horny right now.

I've got no business in Luka's private gym, I know it, but I can't help myself. Word around the house is that he's been cooped up here for days. Yulia's been asking for her big brother, her face going all teary-eyed at night.

Or maybe I'm just trying to fool myself. Maybe it's me who can't stand his absence anymore.

Yes, I fucking miss him.

The truth is, I want him. I want all of him.

And here he is. Fresh out of the shower, muscles rippling, water dripping down his goddamn perfect body. His hard cock pressing against me.

His hands are on me, pulling at the buttons of my uniform, stripping it away with no niceties. His fingertips trace the edge of my bra, then it's gone, and I'm standing there topless, my nipples hardening under his intense gaze. Heat pools in my lower belly, my pussy clenching in anticipation.

"You—"

He silences me with a rough kiss, his hand tangling in my hair as he pulls my head back to look at him. His eyes are ablaze, a mix of lust and something else, something darker.

"Do you like pain, krasotka?" he repeats, his voice a low growl.

I swallow hard, unsure of how to respond. It's an intimate question, and it feels raw and exposed to discuss it here, in his private sanctuary, with his naked body pressing against mine.

"I…I don't know," I finally confess, feeling a blush heat my cheeks.

He lets out a chuckle, low and wicked. "Well, krasotka, I think it's high time we find out."

He bites my lower lip, the sting of it sending another jolt of pleasure through my body. "Does it hurt?" he growls in my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

"Fuck yes," I breathe out. It hurts alright, the pleasurable kind of pain, the one that blurs the line between ecstasy and agony.

Without warning, he spins me around, slamming me face-forward against the cold, hard wall. My tits press against the cool surface, my nipples hardening instantly. The throbbing in my pussy intensifies, matching the erratic beat of my heart. His muscular body molds against my back, his thick cock grinding into my ass, promising sheer, unfiltered pleasure. His hands are rough, one manhandling my wrists above my head while the other roams my body, trailing down to my dripping wet pussy.

"Asshole!" I spit out, the word tumbling out of my lips before I can stop it. The venom in my voice would've shocked me if I wasn't so damn angry.

"What- what did you say?" His voice is a low growl in my ear, thunderous and ominous. I can practically feel his anger vibrating against my back.

"I said, you are an asshole, jerk!" It's the purest form of my anger, breaking through the surface after simmering beneath for so long. It feels liberating, like releasing a scream after a long silence.

"You want to be a wildcat?" Luka hisses at me, his voice filled with challenge. The anger in his tone is unmistakable, and I can tell it's been building for a while. It's unnerving, and I'm not sure how to respond. His intensity is palpable, and it's clear he's not playing games.

His hand lands with a sharp smack on my ass, the stinging sensation jolting through me. I can't help but yelp, the sting morphing into a pulse of pleasure that rolls up my spine, turning my moan raunchier.

"Fuck you!" Annoyance bubbles in my chest. I want to tell this prick about Aleks's scheme and Anya's double-dealing shit, but even if I was brave enough, he's not going to let me get a word in. Just as I try to spin around to yell in his stubborn face, he shoves me up against the wall with a growl.

His body is like a frigging iron statue, trapping me against the cold, unsympathetic tiles. His cock, hard as steel, presses into my ass, rubbing against my soaked pussy.

Ignoring the anger gnawing at me, I grind my hips back into his dick. The pleasure that zaps through me is like lightning, lighting up my nerves, drowning out the noisy thoughts in my head. My body heats up, my breath comes out in quick pants, and suddenly, all my complaints seem less important than the primal lust coursing through my veins.

"You're fucking mine," he rasps in my ear, his voice laced with crude possession. His grip tightens on my thigh, hoisting me up and grinding me against the cold wall. My heart hammers in my chest, each beat echoing his crude declaration.

Then he thrusts. His cock is relentless, burying deep into my soaked pussy. His hand dives between my thighs, his rough fingers grazing my swollen clit. His movements are savage, every thrust an assertion of his dominance.

Each plunge of his cock drags a guttural groan from my lips, the sensation base and primal. My pussy clenches around him, matching the rhythm of his brutal thrusts. The friction of my hard nipples against the wall sends jolts of pleasure down to my core.

He pulls out abruptly, leaving me gasping at the emptiness. But before I can voice my protest, his cock is back, filling me up again, slamming into me with a force that has me seeing stars. Pleasure spikes through me, mad and untamed, spiraling me towards the edge.

"Fuck!" My screams echo off the walls, drowned only by the sound of our bodies colliding.

His release follows shortly after, his cum filling me up, trickling down my thighs as a primal reminder of the rough fucking we just shared. I collapse under his weight, gasping for breath, the gritty reality of the encounter seeping in.

And then, without a word, he leaves. The door slams shut behind him, echoing through the silent room like a gavel declaring a verdict.

I'm left alone, naked and used in the empty shower. It feels like a thousand knives are slicing my heart apart.

Picking myself up, I turn on the shower. The hot water washes over me, attempting to cleanse away the grimy aftermath of our rough encounter. My hand reaches down between my legs, rinsing off the traces of him that he's left behind. His cum trickles down my thighs with the water, each contraction of my spent pussy sending a fresh wave from me.

But nothing can wash away the taste of betrayal that lingers in my mouth. As I scrub angrily at my skin, silent tears mingle with the water. All I can think about is how I let myself be used. The raw reality of the situation is a harsh pill to swallow. I wrap my arms around myself, shaking quietly under the cascade of water.

I start sobbing.

The hot water pummeling my body is the only thing grounding me. My body is wracked with violent shudders, each one ripping through me like a shockwave.

My chest tightens. But my lungs are contracting inwards. It hurts.

The hurt and betrayal constrict around my heart like a vise. It feels like it's going to explode, to burst out of my chest, and all the pain and betrayal and guilt will spill out in a messy, ugly wave.

It's too much. It's all too fucking much.

The weight of the deception, the shame, the guilt – it's suffocating me. I sink to my knees, the cold tiles a sharp contrast to the warm water washing over me. The pain is overwhelming, the silence deafening.

I try to scream, but all that comes out is a choked sob.

Chapter 50

Luka

EMERGING FROM the gym, my muscles hot and my mind still a jumble of fresh release and my frustration, I barely notice Svetlana reprimanding one of the maids. My focus is elsewhere. I need to find Yulia.

"Svetlana, where's Yulia?"

The maid scurries away, and Svetlana turns her steely gaze to me. "Miss Ivankov is in the garden, sir."

"Good. Spasibo." I'm already moving, but Svetlana isn't finished.

"Mr. Ivankov, if I may, the arrangements for the party on Saturday need your attention. There are some decisions that require your approval."

I stop, glancing back at her, irritation flaring. "Can't it wait, Svetlana? I will go over it with you later."

She nods, her face betraying nothing. "Very well, sir. I will have everything ready for your review."

I don't bother with a reply, already striding toward the garden. My mind's filled with Yulia, my little sister, all alone out there. The garden's filled with our muscle-bound soldiers, always on guard, but it doesn't change the ache in my chest at the sight of her. She looks so damned lonely.

Sophia should've been there. She's supposed to glue herself to Yulia.

But no, she went off hunting for me.

That thought chews at me, gets my blood boiling. Is that why I was a dick to her earlier?

Because I was so goddamn pissed?

Guilt floods me, but I swallow it back into my gut.

Sophia doesn't get it. She can't know the shitstorm I'm in. Something's up. I can sense it. It's like the day my old man got whacked. Right outside our damn home…by that prick Aleks. I should've been there. But I was out, wheeling and dealing, and that cost me big time.

I start to lumber toward Yulia, her hushed whispers hitting my ears.

"Do you think Luka's forgotten us?" she says to Max, her voice choked with longing. Max whips his head up, his tail wagging like a crazy windmill as he makes a beeline for me. Yulia's face lights up at the sight of me, then it crumbles into a tear-streaked mess.

"I missed you, Luka!" she blurts, tears choking her words.

I pull Yulia into a tight hug, lifting her as if she's as light as a feather. I brush a gentle kiss against her tear-soaked cheeks.

"Maly?ka, I've been caught up in a whole lot of grown-up stuff. You know how it is."

Her little body quakes against mine as a sob breaks free. "Sophia and I…we've been scared, Luka."

"Well, Sophia doesn't need to worry. I'm here, am I not?" I rumble, my heart constricting at the sight of her so broken. "Did Sophia say anything else?"

A small nod from her. "She said…said you loved me. That you'd give me the biggest hug when you saw me." She sniffs, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"Well, she's not wrong," I grin, squeezing her tighter for good measure.

She lets out a shaky giggle, burying her face into my shirt. "She also said she was going to find you. That's why she left."

Fuck!

A jolt of guilt hits me harder. I let out a sigh, tousling her hair. "Well, look at that. She was right again. I'm here, aren't I?"

Her head bobs in understanding, like a tiny sparrow pecking at the ground. In an instant, she's clinging onto me, her arms wrapped around me so tight it's as if she's afraid I'll disappear again.

"Hey, maly?ka," I murmur, ruffling her soft hair, "How about we head out for some shopping right now? Got some birthday presents to snag, don't we?"

"Shopping?" Yulia gasps, her hands gripping onto my shirt tightly. "Right now?"

"You bet." I chuckle, feeling Yulia's excitement as she squirms in my arms. Her eyes widen, and the solemn mood that had settled over her earlier lifts instantly. "Anything you want, maly?ka. It's all yours today."

Damn, I really screwed things up this time. Hiding like a damn coward while Yulia faces the shitstorm alone? Pathetic. Now I'm here, trying to paste a happy smile on her with a pathetic shopping spree, as if new toys could just erase the nightmare she's been thrown into because of me.

"Really?" she asks, her voice small but hopeful. "Can I get the huge dollhouse? The one with the elevator?"

I glance down at her, and the spark in her eyes pulls at something in my chest.

How could I say no?

"If you want the dollhouse, you'll get the dollhouse," I confirm, her squeal of joy music to my ears.

The sound of paws scrabbling against the pavement makes us all turn. Max has spotted Sophia and is making a beeline toward her.

"Hey buddy," Sophia murmurs, bending to pet the bouncy bundle of fur. "Yulia, didn't I tell you I'll find Luka?"

"Yes! And we're going shopping now!"

I drag in a rough breath. There's something about her eyes – darting, avoiding my gaze. And shit, they're red, haunted with shadows that were never there before. Goddamn, she's been crying.

Blyat!

"Are we now?" Sophia finally mutters, her eyes flicking up to meet mine. The contact lasts a fraction of a second before she looks away. Can't say I blame her.

I did this. I'm the fucking reason she's upset.

"Yes, and you will be coming with us," I respond, trying to make it sound like a casual invite.

"Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir," she retorts, her voice dripping with frost. The chill in her tone cuts me, and not for the first time, I realize just how royally I've fucked up.

"Why the hell do I have to go, too?" Dimitri groans from the passenger seat as I bring the Rolls to life. A soft purr hums from the engine, echoing Dimitri's begrudging tone.

Behind us, Grisha, Boris, and Ivan are tailing close in two black SUVs, their stern faces hidden behind tinted windows.

"Well, someone's gotta carry the bags, D." I chuckle, pulling out into the bustling Chicago streets. In the rearview mirror, I can see Sophia, her eyes flicking over to Yulia, who's safely strapped into her car seat.

"Just because you're in charge doesn't mean you get to play dictator," Dimitri fires back, crossing his arms over his chest in a huff.

"Cheer up, D. We're heading to Patrick's. Who knows, you might find yourself a nice teddy bear." I grin at him.

Dimitri, as usual, is on high alert, his eyes scanning the street like he's expecting an ambush any second. It's one of the reasons he's so damn good at his job. And why I tolerate his constant whining.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Sophia sits quietly next to Yulia. She's gorgeous, those plump lips of hers still carrying the mark of my teeth. The sight stirs a familiar heat within me.

Meanwhile, Yulia is safe and sound in the back seat, the soft light of her iPad illuminating her focused face. She's plugged into her little world, bobbing her head and singing some song from her favorite YouTube channel. She's in her own universe, oblivious to Dimitri's complaining.

Returning my focus to Dimitri, I switch gears.

"Got anything new on Aleks's hangout?" I toss the question at Dimitri, eyes locked on the road ahead.

"Just the usual. His men scattered around, looking busy. We're getting there, Luka," Dimitri's gaze remains fixed on the cityscape sliding past. "Just a matter of time."

"Time we don't have," I grumble, gripping the steering wheel tighter. Aleks has been a step ahead for too long.

From the backseat, Yulia's bubbly voice punctures our grave conversation. "Luka, can we have ice cream after shopping?" Her enthusiasm is infectious.

"We sure can, maly?ka," I manage a chuckle, easing up on the tense atmosphere. "The biggest one you can find."

Her giggles fill the car, temporarily diffusing the underlying tension. She retreats back into her iPad world, humming along with her tunes.

I catch a glimpse of Sophia's face in the mirror, her complexion pale and her eyes darting from one side to another; she looks like she is about to puke.

What the hell is going on with her?

"Sophia," I snap, irritation and concern mingling in my voice. "You okay?" I growl, waiting for an answer.

She doesn't respond, just worries her lower lip, her gaze fixed firmly on the window.

She's angry.

Of course she is. You're a dickhead.

"We're here," Dimitri announces as I pull the Rolls up to the front of the Toy Extravaganza store. The vibrant window displays scream fun and joy, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in our car.

No sooner do I kill the engine than the doors of the vehicles behind us swing open. Grisha, Boris, and Ivan step out, eyes scanning the surroundings. Even on a routine shopping trip, they're wired for danger.

Ivan approaches our car, giving me a nod as I hand him the keys. He'll take care of parking while we head in. Bodyguard and valet – Ivan wears many hats.

From the backseat, Yulia's excitement is almost tangible. "Sophia!" she exclaims, her voice high with enthusiasm. "You've never been to Patrick's store, have you? It's the best!"

Sophia looks down at Yulia. She smiles widely at the child's excitement.

"No, Yulia," she answers. "This is my first time. Can you show me around?"

Yulia practically bounces in her seat, clapping with joy. "Oh yes, yes, yes! I'll show you everything. Especially the teddy bear aisle. You'll love it!"

Yulia's delight somehow spreads through the tension-filled vehicle like a ray of sunshine. As we step out of the car, Yulia grabs Sophia's hand, tugging her along toward the entrance of the store.

Yulia's face lights up the moment she spots the teddy bear aisle, scampering toward the towering stacks. Dimitri, the man who loves her like a brother, follows closely, keeping a protective eye on her.

"Mr. Ivankov," Patrick greets, a formal nod punctuating his words. His large hands are clasped together in front of him as if he's praying. His face is weathered, age and stress carving deep lines into his skin.

"Patrick." I nod in return, the corners of my mouth lifting in a half-hearted attempt at a smile. "Your father would have been proud. You have kept this place running smoothly."

His face softens at the mention of his father, a nostalgic glimmer in his eyes.

"Well, we try to keep up the tradition, just like your father did with you, Mr. Ivankov."

"Yeah, tradition," I grunt, a sour note in my voice as memories flood back. I glance around the old toy shop, each shelf and corner a reminder of a past I can't escape. When I was a kid, this place was a haven, a rare escape from the harsh realities of our world.

"One toy, Luka, and not more than that," my mother would tell me, her soft eyes filled with a love and kindness I've long since abandoned. "One is enough. We mustn't be greedy. There are others who have less than we do."

Greedy.

The word stings even now. She was always teaching me about compassion, about understanding, about not being the very thing I've become. How she'd hate the man standing here now. A ruthless, cold-hearted bastard who's long forgotten her gentle lessons.

"So, Yulia's turning eight." Patrick's words pull me back.

"Yeah," I reply, my voice as cold as my thoughts.

Eight.

The word hangs in the air, heavy with meaning. It seems so long. And Patrick has seen the change, the hardening, the shift from that wide-eyed boy to the monster I've become.

I don't try to hide it. It's who I am now.

Chapter 51

Sophia

I DON'T feel well.

My heart's pounding like a drum in my chest. The toy shop around me seems to blur, the edges of my vision getting fuzzy.

What's happening to me?

This can't be happening now. Not here, not with Yulia.

Think, Sophia, think. What's Aleks planning?

My mind returns to Anya, her evil smirk, and her cold, deadly eyes.

Should I come clean with Luka?

No! He'll kill me. Bloody Aleks!

He's left me in the dark. I have no idea if Nilo or Wren are alive.

Oh God, breathe, just breathe.

"Look, Sophia!" Yulia's voice rings through the haze, and I turn to see her eyes shining with excitement. She's pointing at the dollhouses lined up on a shelf, each one more elaborate than the next. "See this one?" she chirps, pulling me closer. "It's got a little garden and a swing. And this one here's got tiny rooms, and you can even see the little dishes in the kitchen!"

"Yeah, Yulia, they're beautiful," I manage to say, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears. I try to focus on the details she's showing me, but my head's spinning, and I can't quite catch my breath.

Was it because I skipped breakfast?

My eyes dart to Luka, who's in conversation with Patrick, the owner, but everything's getting more and more blurry.

"Sophia, are you listening?" Yulia asks, tugging at my arm, her voice filled with concern. "Sophia!" I hear Yulia's shouting.

My eyes close, and I'm falling. But before I can hit the ground, I feel a strong arm grab me. There's an energy I can't place.

Then everything goes black.

"I think she's coming to."

Voices, distant and muffled, slowly reach me. My eyes feel heavy, and it takes all my strength to pry them open.

"Can someone call her husband?" a voice says, worry clear in its tone.

Husband? Whose husband?

I try to respond, but the words won't come. I try to sit up, but a wave of nausea hits me, and I fall back onto the bed.

What on earth is going on here?

The smell is what hits me first, something familiar that I can't quite place. It's sterile but not harsh, mixed with a comforting hint of essential oils.

Nana's favorite lavender, maybe?

A pang of longing hits me, and I miss her suddenly, achingly.

As my eyes start to clear and I slowly sit up, the surroundings begin to make sense. Fresh flowers rest on the nightstand next to unfamiliar medical equipment. Pleasant prints of rolling meadow landscapes line the walls, and soothing nature scenes play on a TV in the corner. The bronze light fixtures and the well-crafted furniture add a touch of elegance.

"Where am I?" I croak, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.

"Stay still," an unfamiliar voice commands, firm but gentle. "You're at Riverdale Private Hospital."

I'm in a hospital.

But why? What happened?

I rub my eyes, trying to make sense of it all. The memory is fuzzy, and everything feels like a jumbled mess.

"You're okay. Just hold on a moment. I'll get your husband."

There's that word again. Husband. What is she talking about?

"Wait!" I call out, my voice catching in my throat. "I- I don't have a husband. What's going on?"

The nurse pauses, looking back at me, confusion in her eyes. "I- Sorry, a man carried you in earlier. We thought he was your…husband because he…" She trails off, biting her lip, clearly unsure how to put it into words.

"Because he what?" I'm on edge now, frustration mixing with confusion. "What did he do?" Who is this "he" she's talking about?

"He was…furious," she finally says, her voice quivering slightly. "Demanding the best doctors, yelling at everyone, acting like he owned the place. Honestly, he seemed like he was about to start a war in the hospital. He told us you're his wife—"

"Who are you talking about?"

"He said his name is Lu-Luka Ivankov?" she stammers, looking at me as though she's expecting a reaction. "He said he is your husband. And from the way he was acting… I mean, he was so concerned, so intense. I've never seen anyone act like that. Not for someone they didn't care deeply about."

Luka did what?

Memories come rushing back. The toy shop. The dollhouses. Yulia. I try to make sense of it all.

"Where is he?" I manage to choke out.

"He's arranging some paperwork," the nurse replies, still looking a bit bewildered by the whole situation. "Nurse Lisa has gone to get him."

My mind is racing. I need some time to myself. Some space to think.

"How- how long was I out?" I finally ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Four hours," she replies, her voice flat. "Straight out for four hours."

Four fucking hours?

I can hardly believe it.

The nurse looks at me, her eyes wide. "Mr. Ivankov…he was here with you the whole time. Didn't move an inch. He was calling your name, kissing your hands, and everything."

"Luka did what?" I blurt out, my mind reeling. "No way. Luka wouldn't do that, he…" I stop, realizing I don't know what to say.

The image of Luka sitting by my side, holding my hand, just doesn't fit with the guy I know. It's all too weird.

My stomach suddenly tightens, a wave of nausea hitting me hard. "Must be the stress," I mumble, clutching my belly.

"You don't look too good…let me get you some water," the nurse says, her voice laced with concern.

But I'm already on my feet, dashing into the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet before I'm vomiting, tears streaming down my face.

Why is this happening to me?

There's a gentle knock on the door, followed by the nurse's soothing voice. "May I come in?"

I don't answer, too focused on the taste of bile in my mouth.

She walks in anyway. "Here, this should help. When you're pregnant, it's pretty normal to have morning sickness during your first trimester." She's holding a towel soaked in peppermint essential oil.

I freeze, the towel halfway to my face. "Pregnant? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, congratulations. The test results came back half an hour ago. Your blood sugar's low, you're over-exhausted, and…pregnant."

The room starts to spin, and I clutch the sink for support. Pregnant? It can't be. There must be a mistake.

The nurse's voice fades into the background, but her last words echo in my head, growing louder and louder until they're all I can hear.

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

Pregnant?

Chapter 52

Luka

A few hours before

I'M STANDING with Patrick, but my eyes betray me, drifting over to Sophia. Damn it all to hell, she looks off. Pale.

Is she okay?

"Sophia!" Yulia's shriek makes me snap to attention. My head whips around. Yulia's face is a twisted mask of terror as she clings to Sophia, but it's no use. Sophia's falling, her face pale, and her eyes shut.

I'm moving before I know it, muscles working on autopilot. My arms reach out, and I catch Sophia just before she hits the ground. Yulia's crying like her heart's breaking. Dimitri's there, picking her up.

"It's okay, Yulia," I grunt, feeling something twist in my gut. "Sophia's gonna be fine. I am going to take her to the doctor."

Yulia nods without question, her blind faith in me setting the guilt surging again.

Dimitri's reaching for Sophia, concern etched on his face. "Hand her over, Luka."

"No." The word is harsh, and it's out before I can stop it. "I've got her."

Dimitri's eyes narrow, and there's a moment where I think he's going to argue. But he backs down.

"I'll handle Yulia," Dimitri says. I nod. I am glad he seems to always know what I'm thinking.

I glance at Yulia, and she's watching us, her face still streaked with tears. I smile at her, giving her the only comfort I can. I've got Sophia, and I'll take care of her.

Because I have to.

Because I want to.

Because for some fucked-up reason, she's too important to me.

I haul ass out of the toy shop with Sophia's limp body cradled in my arms.

Sitting In the doctor's office now, that damn piece of paper clutched in my hand, everything grinds to a halt. Breathing, talking, thinking – it all stops. All I can see is that one word, printed so neatly, like it's some sort of polite invitation: POSITIVE. It's screaming at me, but all I can do is stare.

"Congratulations, Mr. Ivankov," the doctor beams, her eyes crinkling at the corners as I catch a glimpse of her name tag – Dr. Sarah Johnson. She's got those damn laugh lines like she's spent a lifetime celebrating things like this.

"Your wife is pregnant. It's wonderful news!"

I just stare at her, still unable to process it.

Wonderful news? Since when?

I'm in a fucking war right now!

"Your wife really needs to rest…and eat! Her blood sugar is low. That is why she fainted."

She's not my wife. That damn word stings. But it was easier this way; fewer questions, less judgment.

"Are you sure?" I finally manage to croak out. "I mean, this has to be a mistake. Sophia…she can't be pregnant."

"Yes," she replies, nodding, her eyes wide with sincerity. "The HCG level confirms it. She's with child, perhaps two weeks along."

"But she can't get pregnant," I hear myself saying again, my voice breaking. "An accident damaged her fallopian tubes. She told me herself."

Dr. Johnson's smile fades, replaced by a look of concern. She leans forward, her eyes probing mine.

"It's not uncommon for women to believe they can't conceive after such trauma, especially if they were told so in the past," she says, her voice soft, comforting in a way that only irritates me more. "But medical science advances. Perhaps the damage wasn't as extensive as thought, or her body healed in a way that allowed for conception. It's rare, but it happens."

Rare, but happens. Like a damn fairy tale.

Only this isn't a story.

This is real life, and it's screwing with me in ways I can't even begin to understand.

"Mr. Ivankov, this is a miracle," she says.

Miracle?

"It's a mistake," I hear myself say.

The doctor is not smiling anymore, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looks at me. "Mr. Ivankov, I assure you the tests are accurate. Perhaps this is unexpected, but it's certainly not a mistake."

Unexpected? That's a fucking understatement.

I shake my head, trying to clear it.

This is not happening. But it is.

And there's no going back. Damn it all to hell.

Sophia's pregnant.

A father. Me, Luka Ivankov, about to become a father.

A knock on the door interrupts my spiraling thoughts. A nurse pops her head in, her face as cheerful as the doctor's. "Mr. Ivankov, your wife is awake now."

My wife.

My heart does a strange thing, a beat too hard, too fast. Sophia's pale face appears in my mind, the way she collapsed suddenly, her body limp. We head toward her room, the pit in my stomach growing with every step.

Pull yourself together!

I halt outside her door, hearing her voice even before I step in.

"But…I can't be pregnant. I just can't."

I pause, my hand frozen on the door handle, every muscle in my body tight.

She knows. And she doesn't believe it, just like me.

Pushing the door open, I step inside. Her eyes find mine immediately, wide and filled with uncertainty, confusion. I can't help but notice how vulnerable she looks lying there, the hospital gown swallowing her frame.

"Luka," she whispers, her voice breaking.

"Seems we're in for a surprise," I start, trying to mask the chaos in my mind with a casual tone.

She looks at me, her eyes narrowing, "A surprise? Is that what you're calling it?" She shakes her head, tears brimming in her eyes. "It's not possible. You know it's not possible. After the accident, they told me I couldn't—"

"I know what they told you," I cut her off, anger and frustration building in me. "But it's happened. It's a damn miracle or something. You're pregnant, and we have to deal with it."

Her eyes flash, anger replacing the vulnerability. "Deal with it? Deal with it how, Luka? How do you expect me to deal with this?"

I grasp at the anger because it's easier than dealing with the fear.

A baby in my world?

Anger, violence, and hate. Those are things I can fight, things I can challenge. But the fear in her eyes, the uncertainty in her voice; those are things I can't push aside.

Sophia's attention snaps to the doctor, her eyes wide and desperate. "Are you sure? You must be wrong. Check again! I can't be pregnant!"

The doctor's face softens, and she places a reassuring hand on Sophia's shoulder. "I understand your shock, my dear, but the tests are conclusive. The accident was a long time ago, and the human body has a way of healing. Sometimes, when we least expect it, life has a way of surprising us."

"I didn't think I could get pregnant, Luka," she says finally, her voice low and husky. "After the accident, after what they told me, I didn't think it was possible."

I ignore her feelings, and the asshole in me snorts. "Yeah, well, apparently, life's full of fucking surprises."

Her eyes flare with anger, hurt.

Blyat!

The doctor interjects; her face says it all: this isn't the joyful surprise announcement she's used to making. "Mr. Ivankov, Sophia, I understand this is shocking news. It might be considered miraculous, given your medical history. But if this is not welcome news, you should be aware of your…options."

"Options?"

She hesitates, her voice dropping as she chooses her words carefully. "Perhaps…the situation warrants you both to consider…whether or not you want to keep the baby?"

I nearly snarl, my voice dripping with contempt. "No one's getting rid of my kid. There are no fucking options."

Sophia's eyes widen, and the doctor takes a step back, clearly startled by my outburst.

The room falls into a silence so sudden it's almost violent. The soft chirping of birds from the TV seems to mock the storm brewing inside me.

"Excuse me," the doctor says, her voice neutral but professional. "I'll give you two some time to talk." She gathers her papers and quietly exits the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

"I want to keep the baby, Luka." Sophia looks at me, her voice muted after the doctor leaves. "But…you don't have to be involved." She looks so fucking lost.

"Did you not hear me earlier?" I choke on my words. "I do not abandon my responsibilities, Sophia, and I sure as hell won't start now. Not with this."

"But…what do we do now?" She looks up at me, worry in her eyes, and I feel a sudden urge to kiss those worries away.

"You really have to ask?" I say, a cold edge to my voice in spite of it. "We are keeping the baby. And you and me? We're getting married."

Her face goes white, shock written all over it. There's guilt there, too, in the way she avoids my eyes.

"Married?" she finally husks out.

"Yes, married. You think I'm gonna let my kid grow up without a father?"

She finally meets my eyes, and the shock's replaced by something else, something I can't quite place.

"Luka…" she starts, then hesitates, "I have something to confess."

Chapter 53

Sophia

TODAY'S THE day I'll die.

With my baby.

My baby!

I still can't believe it…

I'm lying in a big, uncomfortable bed, not like the one I'm lying in now…and the room smells like medicine. A man in a white coat is talking to Nana, and he's using words I don't understand.

"I'm sorry to inform you that Sophia will not be able to conceive as the impact of the accident had caused significant damage to her fallopian tubes," he says. His voice is all serious and grown-up, and I can't make sense of what he's talking about. But it must be something bad because Nana starts crying really hard. She's making noises like she's in pain.

I remember the screech of tires, the loud crash, and then everything went dark.

Mommy and Daddy were with me, but now they're not. I'm scared, and I just want to go home.

I turn around to see Nilo's face is a blank slate, frozen in shock. He's just standing there, unable to speak, unable to move, unable to cry.

Later, I found out that our parents were gone. Forever.

That guilt settled in Nilo's bones that day, and he's carried it ever since. Because we were supposed to pick him up from a ball game. But we didn't, and now it's too late, and nothing will ever be the same again.

I was too young to understand what it meant then. It was only when I was older, when Nana reminded me about the situation, that it hit me. I'd never have children. I'd never hold my own baby in my arms, never experience the joy of motherhood.

But now, all this is just way too much.

The walls of my life are closing in.

There is a baby in me.

Our baby.

The realization hits me hard, and I feel a sharp pain in my gut as I understand that I've been living a lie. Spying for Aleks, feeding him information, putting Yulia at risk – all the while telling myself that I was doing it for the right reasons. That I had no choice.

But now, facing the truth, I'm torn apart by guilt and shame. I've betrayed those who trusted me, those who cared for me. And for what? Aleks's promises? His manipulation?

I thought I was strong, that I was doing what I had to do to survive. But I see now that I was weak, that I allowed myself to be used, to be a pawn in Aleks's twisted game.

I don't care anymore if Luka is going to kill me today.

The thought sits heavy in my chest, a cold, hard reality. There's no way around it, no way to avoid the inevitable. I know what I've done, and I know the price I have to pay.

Because I am going to tell him the truth.

I will confess my betrayal, lay bare my lies, expose the ugly truth of who I really am.

And he will kill me.

Chapter 54

Luka

THERE ARE a few things that I am not.

I am not a good guy.

I am not a forgiving guy.

I am not a sentimental sucker for romantic movies.

I am not someone who enjoys a surprise, especially the kind involving diapers.

But most definitely, I enjoy torturing and killing people who betray me.

Now, I'm sitting across from Sophia as she spills out her deepest secret.

"I was sent to spy on you…by Aleks," she chokes out, her voice breaking. "He has Nilo and Wren, and I don't know… Luka, I don't know if they're still alive."

My world shifts.

The room spins, and I feel like the floor is falling out from under me. My vision narrows, focusing only on her.

"I-I am sorry," she sobs, clutching her belly as if to protect the secret inside.

Sorry.

I've heard that word many times. From the spineless fuckers who betrayed the Ivankov Bratva, who caused the death of my father, who stole my freedom.

Sorry.

It doesn't mean anything.

I breathe in, then breathe out. Slowly. My mind races. I'm processing. Contemplating. Should I kill her? She betrayed me, and in my world, that's a death sentence.

Sorry.

It doesn't change the fact she lied to me.

Sorry.

It doesn't bring back the trust I thought we had.

I'm quiet at first, the words not processing. Then, with a jolt, I stand up, knocking the chair over. I start to pace, then stop and sit down again, only to leap back up. The truth, the damn truth, is like a punch to the gut. Sophia watches me, tears in her eyes, her body trembling in fear.

"Luka, please," she whispers. "I had no choice. He threatened to kill them."

"Choice?" I snap, my voice dripping with venom. "You chose to lie. You chose to betray me."

"I had to," she cries, desperation in her voice. "I had to protect them. I had to do what he wanted. Or he'd kill Nilo and Wren. Please, you have to understand."

Understand?

The warning Dimitri gave me echoes in my mind, haunting me. He knew. He saw this coming. And now it's here, crashing down on me.

Fuck. No one betrays Luka Ivankov.

I look at Sophia, really look at her.

The fear in her eyes, the despair. She's not lying now.

This is the truth, and it's ugly and painful. But it's real.

Slowly, I walk over to her, my heart pounding in my chest. I sit beside her, my hand reaching out to touch her cheek. She flinches, but I don't pull away.

"You should have told me," I say softly, my voice cracking. "You should have trusted me to help you."

"I was scared," she whispers. "I was so scared, Luka."

Sophia's sobs grow louder, and I pull her closer, my embrace becoming more tense. It's hard, almost desperate, a clash of emotions that I can't put into words. My arms are like steel bands around her, and I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, as fast and frantic as my own.

Slowly, her body starts to relax, her sobs turn into whimpers, and I feel her melt into me. It's as if she finally realizes that in all the chaos, in all the betrayal and hurt, this is what she needs.

She's beautiful, even now, with her eyes red from crying, her body trembling. Blyat, she's gorgeous, and I can't help but appreciate that. A natural beauty, no frills, no artificial shit, just pure, unfiltered Sophia. My heart's pounding, and I've got a feeling in the pit of my stomach that's a strange mix of desire and anger.

Her eyes, wide and filled with tears, look up at me. "So, are you going to kill me now?" she asks.

"Kill you?" I bark out a laugh. I lean in so close that I can feel her breath on my skin. My voice is low, a growl, a promise, a damn possession. "Krasotka, from now on, you belong to me," I say. Her eyes widen, and she swallows hard, but she doesn't look away. She knows I mean it, every fucking word. "And I'll kill anyone who dares to hurt you. That's my promise to you," I say, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead before moving down to her tear-streaked cheek.

"But why?" She whispers.

"Because despite this fucked-up world I"m in," my voice breaks, "you"ve become my anchor, Sophia. "You're the one thing I didn't know I needed."

A tear rolls down her cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb. "I'm terrified, Luka. Of this world, of the pain, of losing myself."

"Promise me Krasotka, no more lies or hiding anything from me, understand?" As I gently touches her cheeks, tracing my thumb over her lips, I can feel myself growing hard.

I want her- bad.

"I- I promise.." Her words stop abruptly as my lips crash against hers. Her hands quickly move to my chest, gripping my shirt tightly.

"You make me lose control," I murmur, feeling her lips quiver against mine. "Damn, I"ve been dying for this," I say, the desire in my voice as clear as day.

She pulls back slightly, gasping for air. "I... I can feel that." Her eyes locked onto mine.

Fuck. I am rubbing my cock in my pants.

Running my fingers along the cotton neckline of her dress, feeling the cool fabric and the curves of her body underneath. With a gentle tug, I loosen the belt at her waist and let it fall open. Her full, soft tits were now on display, eager for my touch.

Her tits are perfect, perfect size, perfect shape, perfect swelling, perfect areolas, perfect looking.

Perfect. oh fuck, perfect.

I greedily grasped them with my hands, squeezing her nipples with my finger.

"Luka!" she whimpers timidly. "We shouldn"t..."

"Shouldn't what?" Ignoring her protests, my rough hands trail lower, tugging her dress up to reveal her glistening pussy, ready for me.

"Ah.." Her eyes flutters close and a soft moan escape her lips.

I press two fingers inside her, drawing a throaty moan from her delicate lips.

"Fuck.." she begs urgently, her beautiful body trembling slightly as I thrust my fingers deeper.

"Oh.. what if someone… comes back in?" She glances nervously towards the door, but her eyes widening in desire.

I reach down and unzip my pants. The leather folds back and my cock springs from under the fabric, like a jack-in-the-box.

I growl, "No chance of that."

I don"t wait for an argument.

I plunge into her warmth and we both moan. I grip her hips, savoring the candy of her lips as I fuck her slow and deep.

We've just checked out of the hospital.

My black Lamborghini Urus is waiting where Grisha had dropped it off earlier, and I unlock it, holding open the passenger door for Sophia.

I look at her fumbling with the seatbelt, her fingers trembling. It gives me the excuse I need.

"Need help there, krasotka?" I ask, leaning over. Her eyes lock onto mine, surprised. I can't resist; I kiss her, quick and demanding.

She kisses me back, her hand reaching down, and everything inside me is on fire. She is teasing me, tracing the outline of my cock. It hardens instantly, and I groan, lost in the sensation, the tantalizing promise of what could be. I pull her close, her body warm and inviting, her touch driving me insane.

"You're playing with fire," I breathe, pulling back, but not before she manages a final, wicked stroke that has me gasping. She smirks, and the look in her eye promises so much more.

"I've never wanted anyone like this," I confess, my voice rough with desire. She looks at me with eyes like emeralds. "The fact that I don't want to kill you, despite everything…it feels good, krasotka. Too good."

She takes my hand and kisses it.

"I want you too," she whispers, her voice a husky promise filled with all the dark, twisted longing that mirrors mine.

I smile.

"What we just did," I murmur, the raw edge in my voice is unmistakable, "I crave more of it."

"What? The quick romp before we get busted in a hospital bed?" she retorts, a teasing smirk on her face.

"No, this...connection. The unity," I clarify, but I'm wading through uncharted emotions here.

"But why?" I find myself admitting the confusion swirling within me.

"Maybe…you love me?" She slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. "Why did I even say that? What the hell! I-I mean…" Her face flushes a deep red.

Love?

Is this what love feels like?

"I don't know what this is, krasotka," I say, my voice low and rough. Her hand trembles in mine, and I grip it, willing my strength into her. "But I do know that we're at war now."

For a moment, she's silent, her beautiful green eyes wide and filled with something I can't quite name. Fear, yes, but something more. Something raw and visceral that cuts to the very core.

Finally, she breaks, her voice cracking as she chokes out the words. "Luka, please tell me you think Nilo and Wren are alive." Her eyes are desperate and pleading.

I pull her close, my arms wrapping around her as I try to shield her from the brutal truth. "I don't fucking know," I admit, my voice a ragged whisper. "But I promise you, I'll find them. I'll bring them back. No matter what it takes."

I don't tell Sophia that I know what Aleks is capable of, that fucking piece of shit. To him, Nilo and Wren are nothing but trash, human garbage he'll toss aside without a second thought the moment they stop serving his sick needs.

She places her hand on her belly, a gesture so tender that it's almost as if she's whispering to the tiny life growing inside her. The thought of our child, still unseen yet already loved, fills me with an emotion I've never felt before.

"Glazah ba-yat-sa, a ruki dye-layut," I murmur, my voice catching as I lay my hand next to hers.

She looks up, her eyes wet but curious. "What does that mean?"

"It means ‘Feel the fear and do it, anyway.'" My grin's a little shaky as I pull her close. "My father used to say it to me. Now I'm telling it to you and my son."

"Your son?" She arches an eyebrow, her lips quirking in a playful smile. "I think it's my daughter."

"Daughter, son, doesn't matter. Our child."

"Our child." She repeats the words, and her smile grows. It's a concept we're both still getting used to, but it feels right.

"Your dad must have been a wise man," she says, her voice thoughtful.

But he wasn't wise enough.

My father trusted Aleks, trusted him like a brother, and what did it get him? A bullet in the skull, that's what. All that talk about loyalty, family, sticking together – it's all a load of crap. He believed in it, and now he's six feet under.

Instead, I hear myself saying, "He was." A pang of loss hits me, but I push it aside. "He knew what it was to face fear. He knew that family mattered, that sticking together, being a pack, that's what got you through."

"I wish I'd met him."

"Me too, krasotka. Me too."

She reaches up, her fingers gentle on my face. "We'll get through this, won't we?"

"We will." The words are a vow. "We're a pack now. You, me, our son. We'll face the fear. We'll do it, anyway."

As I say the words, I feel that old, familiar ache, the same foolish trust that doomed my father. I look into Sophia's eyes, and I think of the love she has for Yulia, the fear of what might happen. I know she betrayed me once, but there's something there, something real. It gnaws at me, pulling at something deep inside.

And as much as I hate to admit it, I recognize that pull. It's the same damn thing that got my father killed.

Trust, love?

The need to protect those close to you, even when you know you shouldn't.

I'm a fool, just like my old man.

I want to keep her close, want to protect her, even though I know she betrayed me. It's that nasty, rotten trust again, rearing its ugly head.

I should have learned from my father's mistakes, should have seen the betrayal coming, but here I am, looking into her eyes, and I know I'm going to do it, anyway.

Because I am my father's son.

I have trust for this woman. That very trust might be my downfall, but I can't help it. I can't help but hope that my instinct is right. About her. Even when I know it's a risk and it might be the death of me.

She pulls me to her lips; we seal the promise with a kiss, one that's not about lust or need but something deeper.

Trust. Commitment. Love. Whatever the fuck it is.

I finally start the engine of the Lambo, its purr a growl of anticipation. Pushing my phone out at the same time, I hit the number "1" on the keypad, and Dimitri's number pops up. It rings twice, then I hear his voice, always ready, always on alert.

"D," I say, no need for pleasantries. "It's time."

I can hear him straighten on the other end, the shuffling of papers, the intake of breath. He knows what my words mean. He knows what must be done.

"What do you need from me, Luka?" he asks, voice steady, loyal to the end.

"We'll need to strike tonight," I say, my words heavy with unspoken fury and determination.

"No delays, no second thoughts. Aleks won't see us coming."

There's a pause, a heartbeat of time when the world hangs in the balance. Then Dimitri's voice comes back, resolute and unyielding.

"We'll be ready."