He froze for a second, his hand tightening against my stomach again. Then, slowly, he shifted to look at me fully.
"Say it again," he murmured, like he needed to hear it one more time to believe it. Then, I met his gaze, which was steady despite the way my heart raced. "I'm happy, Viktor."
Something broke in his expression then. It wasn't weakness; Viktor would never look weak. It was something softer, more raw, like he'd been waiting his whole life for those words and never thought he'd hear them.
"You don't know what that does to me," he whispered.
"Maybe I do," I said, smiling faintly. "Because it does the same thing to me."
He let out a low laugh, husky and rough, before pulling me closer until my head was buried in his chest again. His chin rested on my hair, and he held me like I wasn't going anywhere, because I wasn't.
And for the first time in so long, I wasn't afraid of tomorrow. So, I closed my eyes and let the quiet hold me. The silence wasn't empty anymore. It was full of him, of me, and of us.
And for the first time, I believed it could last. The sun was rising when Viktor tugged me gently from the bed. "Come," he murmured. His voice was low and steady, as if he didn't want to break the calm that had wrapped itself around us.
I then followed, my bare feet brushing the cool floor, until he pushed the glass door open. The morning air rushed in; it was crisp, soft, and clean in a way the city rarely allowed.
The balcony overlooked everything: the street below, the sharp rooftops, the glimmer of water far in the distance. The sky was streaked with gold and pale pink, light spilling like paint across the horizon.
Viktor stood there in only a half-buttoned shirt, the fabric loose against his chest. His scars caught the early sun, and eachmark turned almost golden. For a moment, I couldn't look away. He was beautiful in a way I'd never let myself think of before: not powerful, not just dangerous, but alive.
He leaned on the railing, his eyes scanning the city like he always did, as though danger might crawl out of the corners. But then he turned to me, and something in his face softened.
"It's over," he said simply. His voice wasn't cold, it wasn't harsh, but just blunt, with something warmer tucked beneath it. "Every shadow that dared touch us... gone."
The words hit me harder than I expected, and my breath caught. For so long, my life had been built on fear, running, bargaining, and surviving. I didn't know what it meant to hear that something was over, that we weren't still in the middle of the storm.
I shook my head slightly. "You can't mean that. There's always something, always someone."
Not anymore." He pushed off the railing and came closer, his hand lifting to cup my face. His thumb brushing my cheek, slow and steady. Then, his forehead lowered against mine, and for a second, the world behind him disappeared.
"I never believed in peace," he admitted, his breath warm against my skin. "Not for me, not fit for the Bratva, but with you... I want it. I want to fight only for our child's future now, for you."
My chest tightened so much it almost hurt. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to take those words and let them wrap me up, but doubt curled in the back of my mind like smoke.
"Peace feels like a trick," I whispered. "Like if I reach for it, it'll vanish."
He then tilted my chin so I had no choice but to meet his eyes. "Then let me be the one who holds it for us. You don't have to believe in it, Emilia. You only have to believe in me."
And God, I did. Against every rational thought, every warning voice in my head, I believed him.
I swallowed, leaning just a little closer. "I want things too," I said quietly.
His brow lifted. "Tell me."
I hesitated, nerves curling in my stomach. No one had ever asked me that before, not really. My wants had never mattered, but here he was, asking as if my words could move mountains.
"I want to finish my degree," I started, the words awkward but real. "I want to work, maybe... or at least try. I don't know yet. But I want to raise our child without... without chains. Without them having to wake up the way I used to… afraid."
Viktor studied me for a long moment. His silence made me shift, but then, his lips curved in that slow, dangerous way that meant he was amused.
"So I should prepare for my wife to outrank me?"
I blinked, caught off guard, then laughed, an honest laugh that skipped out before I could stop it. "I didn't say that."
"You implied it." His voice was teasing, but his eyes burned seriously. "I can see it now, Emilia Romano–"
"Lobanov," I corrected quickly.
