He nodded once, then cut another piece of food and placed it on my plate like the conversation hadn't just carved me open.
I chewed slowly, my heart thudding, and my chest tight. We weren't in a war room, but every word felt like a battlefield of its own.
When we finished eating, he didn't let the staff clear the plates. He just stood, took my hand, and guided me to the sofa by the window instead. The city glowed beneath us, lights scattering like stars.
I then curled into him, my head resting on his chest. He pressed a hand over my stomach, his palm warm and steady.
"What do normal couples talk about?" I asked, half-laughing.
"Nothing," he said simply. "Everything."
"Then let's try." I tilted my head to look at him. "Who wakes up for late-night cravings? Me or you?"
His lips curved. "Me. You'll order me around."
"True." I smiled, then tapped his chest. "Bedtime stories?"
He shook his head, almost amused. "You. My voice would scare the child."
I giggled; the sound was though strange but sweet in my throat. "You don't scare me anymore."
His eyes darkened at that, soft but fierce. "Good. Then I'll whisper the stories, only for you two."
We fell into playful arguing then, whether the baby would look like him or me, who'd spoil them more, who'd be stricter. For once, it was about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the thousands that could come if we let them.
"I still can't believe this," I whispered finally, staring out at the skyline. "We're just... sitting here, eating, laughing, with no one trying to take me away. No blood and no threats."
He tilted my face up so I met his eyes. "This is life, Emilia. Ours. You asked for it, and I'll keep it."
His words wrapped around me like armor. I leaned in, kissed him soft and slow, not desperate like before, just full. When I pulled back, I smiled. "I had been stolen as payment. But here, in your arms, for once, I am loved, and I am home."
His hand pressed tighter to my stomach. "Always," he said.
We sat there until the plates went cold on the table, until the night deepened outside. His arms were strong around me, steady in a way I'd never known before. For the first time, my heart didn't beat out of fear, but it beat because it was full.
I thought that was the end, I thought peace had finally settled. But then, a faint, muffled sound came. A knock, not gentle, and not hard, but demanding at the door.
Viktor's body went rigid beneath me, his hand still firm over my stomach. His eyes cut to the door, cold and lethal again in an instant. Then, the world shifted back, the peace was shattered, and I realized that maybe the war wasn't truly over.
Epilogue
Two Years Later…
The cacophony of their laughter drew me to the back garden. I walked out the back door- and there they were.
The two people who held my heart. The calm to my storm and the most precious gift I’d ever received in my entire life.
Emilia sat on our blue picnic blanket under a tree, cradling our son, Leonard, who babbled and laughed with her.
My heart swelled with happiness and pride as I watched both of them. It was a kind of pride I wouldn’t admit to anyone else except them. I had thought I’d have a son raised by a nanny and no woman to stand beside me as I ruled over the Bratva. But I’d gotten much more than that.
I had a family that made my insides swim with happiness. I had a wife who, despite not being from my world, refused to be anywhere else but by my side. I ruled the Bratva alongside my brothers, silencing our rivals before their voices could be heard.
I am, indeed, a lucky man.
“There you are,” I said to my wife, who randomly turned towards me.
“Here we are,” she chimed, flashing me a happy grin as I walked over to the blanket.
