Page 182 of Betrayal and Vows

Her body tenses slightly. "Anton?—"

"I need to know."

She's quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest around the bandages.

"They took me. Popov's men. Put me in a van." Her jaw tightens. "One of them thought he could have some fun before delivering me to the Pakhan."

Rage flares hot in my chest despite the pain medication. "Did he touch you?"

"He tried." A smile ghosts across her lips. "I broke his nose. And his kneecap. Beat the shit out of him, actually."

Pride swells through me, mixing with the fury. "That's my girl."

"Dmitri found me before they could get far. Killed them all." She shifts slightly, getting more comfortable. "Mama had a concussion and some bruises, but she's alive. She's at the estate now, but she wants out of Russia as soon as possible."

"And the Orlov Bratva?" I need to know what kind of world we're bringing our child into.

"Chaos," she says simply. "With Vadim and Mikhail both dead, everyone's scrambling to figure out what comes next. But Dmitri says there's no active hit on any of us right now. Everyone's too busy trying to claim territory."

"For now," I say grimly.

"For now," she agrees. "But we're safe, Anton. Dmitri made sure of that."

The mention of my best friend reminds me of something important. "I want guards on you. Round the clock. I'll make sure Dmitri?—"

Lena laughs. "It's already done. Dmitri is practically my shadow. I can't go to the bathroom without him checking the stalls first."

Of course he is. Dmitri knows me well enough to anticipate what I'd want. "Good. Keep it that way until this all settles."

"He's very protective of his nephew," she says, her hand moving to rest on her still-flat stomach. "Or niece. He keeps insisting it's a boy, but I have a feeling he'll spoil them rotten either way."

The image of Dmitri teaching our child to pick locks or throw knives makes me smile despite everything. "He'll be a good uncle."

"The best," she agrees. Then her voice grows quieter. "Anton? What happens now? When you get out of here?"

It's the question I've been avoiding thinking about, even before I almost died. The Bratva world is all I've ever known, but it's no place to raise a family. No place for Lena to be safe and happy.

"We leave," I say finally. "Russia, the Bratva, all of it. We disappear. Find somewhere quiet where our child can grow up normal."

"You'd really walk away from all this?"

I tighten my arm around her carefully. "Lena, you and this baby are my family now. Everything else is just noise."

She's quiet for a long time, and I think she might have fallen asleep.

"I want our child to know where they come from. The good parts, anyway. Your mother's strength, your father's... well, we don’t have to talk about him. My mother's resilience."

"And your stubbornness," I add.

"And your protectiveness." She tilts her head to look at me. "But don’t make any decisions right now. You’ve been conscious five minutes. We’ll worry about what comes next later.”

We lie there in comfortable silence, planning a future that seemed impossible just a few weeks ago. A life where our biggest worry is what to name our baby, not which enemies are hunting us.

"I love you, Mrs. Malikov," I murmur against her hair.

"Not legally, yet," she points out.

"Soon."