Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
I inhale sharply. “That’s not fair.”
“Maybe. But it’s true,” she says.
Her voice isn’t angry or hostile in any way. Worse than that, it’s flat and resigned. She’s come to an indisputable conclusion about me, and there’s nothing I can do to change her mind.
She wipes her cheek with the back of her wrist and sits up straighter. “You have to choose,” she says suddenly, her tone crisp. “Your business or our baby.”
My entire body goes still.
It feels like every molecule of air in the room disappears in an instant. My heart thuds once, hard, and then my ears ring with the sudden silence. I take a deep breath, then another.
“I can’t give up the Bratva,” I say slowly.
Her face cracks. Just slightly. Enough to show that she hoped, somewhere deep down, that I would say something else.
“You’re just scared right now,” I say, forcing the words out gently. “You read some old news stories and now you’re panicked.”
Her eyes widen with disbelief. “Panicked,” she repeats quietly.
“Yes,” I say, nodding. “You’re overwhelmed by everything. The baby, the trauma of your attack, the last few weeks. The idea of danger feels bigger and scarier than it actually is, but it’s manageable. I can handle it.”
“You can’t guarantee that,” she says.
“I’ll protect you,” I say forcefully, irritation mounting.
“You can try,” she corrects. “But there will always be someone out there who wants what you have. There will always be someone who wants you dead. And I will not be used to get to you. I won’t let our child be used to get to you.”
I feel a hot, sharp flare of anger at the idea that she believes I would ever let anything happen to her. How can I make her understand when she’s being impossible?
“I will do anything to keep you safe,” I repeat firmly. “Anything except abandon my men. I will not walk away from the brotherhood. It is a way of life. It’s the only thing that has ever been stable for me.”
Her voice breaks. “And what about us? What about our child?”
I stand up so fast the coffee table rattles.
“Don’t do this,” I warn. “Don’t make me choose.”
“But you already have,” she says, barely audible.
My hands curl into fists at my sides. Everything in me is fighting to stay calm, to speak logically, to not let rage or desperation drive the conversation. She looks at me with this crushed, hollow expression that hits me harder than any bullet ever could.
“You said you always wanted a family,” she whispers. “You said you wanted to do better than the people you came from. You told me you wanted to be a father who showed up. A father who cared.”
“I do.”
“Then why is everything else more important than us?”
“Because without the Bratva, I am nothing,” I snap, my anger finally getting the best of me.
Her eyes fill with tears, but she just nods and stares at me blankly. “If you truly believe that, then I can’t stay,” she says, more to herself than to me.
The words hit me with a cold finality.
“Molly,” I plead, my voice breaking at the sound of her name.
She stands slowly, wrapping her arms around herself.
“I won’t raise my baby in this world.”
“Molly—”
“I will raise this child alone far away from here if I have to,” she interrupts. “I will not be part of this.”
My chest tightens until it hurts to breathe. “Please don’t leave,” I say. It comes out raw and quiet.
In response, she picks up her tablet, holds it to her chest like a shield, and walks past me with her head bowed.
I don’t follow.
22
MOLLY
Ispend the next morning trying to pretend my heart isn’t shattered into a million pieces. I keep replaying our argument from last night. He didn’t even consider what I’d said. I gave him an ultimatum, and he didn’t choose us. He didn’t choose our family.
It’s pathetic, honestly. I walk through the living room with a folded blanket in my hands, like I can hold myself together if I just grip something tight enough. Samuil left early this morning, which isn’t a surprise after the way things ended last night. I didn’t even hear him leave, and he certainly didn’t say goodbye.
So this is my reality now. I told him I would raise this child alone, and I meant it. I don’t know what that means for my life right now. If I leave, it makes everything too final. Knowing him, leaving would be difficult. We may be done romantically, but I doubt it’s as easy as me just walking out the door.
So I do what I always do when life feels out of control. I keep myself busy. I plan lessons for Anya. I make food. I use Samuil’s gym and work out for over an hour.
Anya arrives with Davýd in the afternoon. She walks through the door holding her book bag to her chest, her eyes as cautious as ever. As soon as she spots me on the rug, she hurries over and sits so close her shoulder touches my arm. The ache inside me softens for a moment. Davýd just nods at me and says he’ll be back in a few hours. I wonder if he knows.