Chapter 42

Victor

AS Isteer the car onto the quieter road leading back to our place, my hands grip the steering wheel tightly, my eyes scanning the passing cars with a newfound sense of caution.

It’s early, but some idiots always rush like they’re racing the devil.

I drive slowly, almost hesitantly, hyper-aware of every potential danger on the road.

Shit!

A car zips by too close, too fast.

Instinctively, I mutter a curse under my breath. “Blyad!” The sudden rush of adrenaline isn’t just about the car; it’s about protecting what’s mine—Laura and the new life we’re about to bring into this world.

My heart races, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Don’t fuck with my family.

I glareat the retreating taillights.

The word echoes in my mind, and I glance over at Laura. She’s staring at the picture of our unborn baby, one hand resting gently on her stomach. Her expression is soft, almost reverent, and I feel another surge of protectiveness wash over me.

Blyad, this woman has completely rewired my priorities.

I shake my head in disbelief. I’m actually thinking about having a child with her, about building a life together.

It’s a terrifying thought but also strangely exhilarating. The idea of keeping her by my side, of watching our child grow and thrive, makes my gut twist with a fierce, primal need. It’s like every instinct in my body is screaming at me to hold on to her, to never let her go.

“You okay?” I reach over, taking her hand in mine. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and questioning.

She freezes for a moment, then carefully slides the photo back into her purse like it’s a precious treasure. She turns to me, her expression serious.

“Just… processing, I guess. It’s a lot to take in,” she says, biting down on her lip. “Victor,” she tilts her head, catching my eye before I refocus on the road ahead.” I’m hungry.”

I nearly choke on my own spit.

Hungry? Now?

I glance over at her, and sure enough, she’s dead serious.

I shake my head and scoff out a laugh. “Okay, what do you have in mind?” I ask, trying to keep a straight face.

“A burrito. No, wait, a quesadilla. With extra guac and sour cream. Oh, and maybe some chips and salsa on the side.” Her eyes light up as she describes her craving.

“Did you not eat breakfast?” I ask, incredulous.

“Well, that was almost three hours ago,” she says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I chuckle, marveling at the way her mind works. One minute, we’re having a serious conversation about our future, and the next, she’s fixated on Mexican food.

“All right, kiska, let’s get you fed,” I say, flicking on the turn signal and scanning the street for a suitable restaurant. “Can’t have you starving on my watch.”

I see Laura grin, and it’s like someone just flipped on a damn spotlight in my dark world.

I’m totally, irrevocably fucked.

I watch Laura as she devours her third scoop of cookies-and-cream ice cream, barely pausing to breathe between bites. It’s hard to believe that just an hour ago, she polished off a massive plate of quesadillas loaded with extra guac and sour cream.

She attacks it like it’s her last meal, moaning in delight as the creamy sweetness hits her tongue.

The sight is too much.

As she licks the dripping sides of her cone, I can’t help but imagine her lips wrapped around my throbbing cock, teasing and taunting me with every lick. I shift in my seat, trying to ignore the way my cock hardens at the sight of her tongue swirling around the dripping cone.

I cough out a dry laugh, internally trying to rein in my desire.

Not the time or place, Morozov.

I force my gaze away from her mouth.

Across the small shop, a family catches my eye. A young boy, no more than five or six, is happily scooping up his own ice cream, his parents watching with fond smiles. It’s a scene of simple, uncomplicated joy, so far removed from the dark, dangerous world I’m living in.

Laura takes another long, slow lick of her cone, then sighs. “Are you going to ask me to get rid of the baby?” she asks suddenly, her voice quiet but steady.

I turn to face her, my heart clenching at the fear and uncertainty in her eyes.

Hell, how does she do this?

Her honesty just flips a switch in me, and I’m wrestling with feelings I didn’t even want to admit I had.

There’s a smudge of chocolate at the corner of her mouth, and I have to resist the urge to lean in and lick it away.

Taking a deep breath, I run a hand over my jaw, feeling the rasp of stubble against my palm. I’ve been thinking about this moment for hours, trying to find the right words to express the mess of emotions I’m feeling.

“Kiska…” I begin, my voice low and serious. I see her holding her breath, her body tensing like she’s bracing for a blow.

“I won’t get rid of our baby, Victor. It’s my baby.”

Her words hit me hard. I suck in a deep breath and hear myself thinking: It’s our baby.

“What I do… it’s dangerous. The life I lead, the enemies I’ve made… it’s not something I ever wanted to bring a child into.”

She nods, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I know,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I know, Victor. But this baby… it’s a part of us, fucked up as it may be.”

I hesitate before reaching out, taking her hand in mine. “I’m not asking you to get rid of it,” I say firmly, my thumb stroking over her knuckles. “I would never ask that of you, kiska.”

I grit my teeth and tighten my grip on her hand. “But I need you to understand the risks, the danger that comes with being a part of my world.”

She meets my gaze, her eyes fierce and determined. “I understand,” she says, her voice growing stronger. “And I’m not running away, Victor. Not from you, not from our baby, not from any of it.”

There’s a rush of pride and confusion and fear, all tangled up together in my chest.

These emotions are foreign to me, a man trained to show no weakness, no vulnerability. Fear, sadness, love—

Love?

The word echoes in my mind, and I feel a sudden, sharp pang.

Is that what this is?

This fierce, protective urge to shield Laura and our unborn child from harm, to hold them close and never let go?

“Victor,” Laura says softly, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“Yes, kiska?” I reply, my voice rougher than I planned.

She smiles, her eyes shining with a strange, knowing light. “I think you’re going to be a great papa.”

Something inside me snaps, like a rubber band stretched too far. I feel a sudden, overwhelming rush of emotion, so intense it nearly takes my breath away.

I lean in, pressing a fierce, desperate kiss to her lips. She tastes like chocolate and hope and everything I never knew I wanted, and I feel a surge of determination wash over me.

I don’t deserve this.

But even as the thought hits me, I know she’s different. This thing between us, it’s not just about getting my dick wet. Somewhere along the line, she’s gotten under my skin, past all the walls I’ve built up over the years.

I fucking want this.

And that scares the shit out of me… more than staring down the barrel of a gun ever has. Because for the first time in my goddamn life, I’ve got something to lose.

Something I’m starting to realize I’d burn the whole fucking world to ash to keep safe.