For a moment, I don't understand. Then comprehension crashes over me like a wave, stealing my breath, making my knees weak.
Us.
"You're…" I can't finish the sentence. Can't make my voice work properly.
She nods, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'm pregnant, Dimitri. We're going to have a baby."
43
ALINA
Dimitri's hand trembles against my stomach, his palm warm through the thin fabric of my sweater. Around us, his men move through the monastery ruins with practiced efficiency, securing the perimeter and checking for survivors among Mikhail's fallen soldiers. But we exist in our own bubble, the chaos fading to background noise as he stares at me with an expression I've never seen before.
His green eyes are wet with unshed tears.
"How long?" His voice cracks on the words. "How long have you known?"
"I took the test this morning." I cover his hand with both of mine, pressing his palm more firmly against my still-flat stomach. "Before we left for the meeting. I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid it would distract you. That you'd refuse to let me come."
"You're damn right, I would have refused." His other hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "Alina, you could have been killed. Our baby couldhave been killed. When Mikhail lunged at you with that knife, when I saw him moving toward you, I?—"
His voice breaks completely, and I watch in amazement as tears spill down his cheeks. Dimitri Morozov, the ruthless Pakhan who's survived decades in the Bratva, who kills without hesitation, who's built an empire on blood and fear, is crying. For me. For our baby.
"But we weren't killed." I lean into his touch, feeling the roughness of his beard against my palm as I mirror his gesture, cradling his face. "We're both fine. The baby is fine. We're all fine."
"This time." He pulls me against his chest, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe. His heart pounds against my ear, still racing from the adrenaline of the fight. "But what about next time? What about all the enemies who will come after us, after our child? How can I protect you both when you insist on throwing yourself into danger?"
I pull back enough to look up at him. "The same way you've protected me so far. By being smart. By being strong. By not letting fear control us." I press my hand over his heart, feeling the steady thump beneath my fingers. "I'm not fragile, Dimitri. I killed my own father. I survived kidnapping and torture. I stood beside you through fire and bullets and collapsing buildings. I'm not going to become some delicate flower just because I'm pregnant."
A ghost of a smile crosses his lips. "No, you're definitely not delicate." He leans down and kisses me, soft and tender, so different from the passionate, claiming kisses we've shared before. This is reverent. Worshipful. "You're magnificent. Terrifying. The strongest woman I've ever known."
"Pakhan." Alexei's voice cuts through our moment, apologetic but urgent. "We need to go. The authorities will be here soon, and we need to be gone before they arrive."
Dimitri nods, his arm wrapping around my waist as we turn toward the waiting vehicles. The monastery is a pile of rubble now, smoke still rising from the ruins.
The drive back to the estate passes in a blur. I'm exhausted beyond measure, my body finally registering all the adrenaline and fear and violence of the past hours. Dimitri keeps one hand on my thigh the entire time, as if he needs the physical contact to reassure himself that I'm real, that I'm here, that we're both alive.
"A baby," he murmurs, almost to himself. "We're going to have a baby."
I cover his hand with mine, threading our fingers together. "Are you happy about the pregnancy?"
He looks at me like I've asked the most absurd question in the world. "Happy doesn't begin to cover it. Terrified, yes. Overwhelmed, absolutely. But happy?" His grip tightens on my hand. "Alina, you've given me everything. A reason to build something better than what I inherited. A future worth fighting for. And now a child." His voice drops to a whisper. "A family."
The word hangs between us, heavy with meaning. Family. Not the twisted, toxic version we both grew up with, but something new. Something we're building together from the ashes of everything that came before.
When we pull through the estate gates, I see Katya standing on the front steps, her dark hair whipping in the wind. She's wearing one of the sweaters I bought her last week, and shelooks so young, so vulnerable. The moment our SUV stops, she's running toward us.
"Alina!" She throws herself at me as I exit the vehicle, her arms wrapping around my neck. "Oh my God, I was so worried. The guards wouldn't tell me anything, just that there was a situation and I had to stay inside. Are you okay? Is Dimitri okay? What happened?"
I hold her tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. My little sister. Safe. Alive. Here with me. "We're fine. Everything's fine. It's over, Katya. Mikhail is dead. The threat is gone."
She pulls back, her brown eyes searching my face. "Really? It's really over?"
"Really." I take her hand and lead her toward the house, Dimitri following close behind. "Come inside. We have something to tell you."
We settle in the main sitting room, the same room where my mother sat just days ago with her carefully rehearsed grief. But this feels different. This feels like home. Dimitri sits beside me on the leather sofa, his hand finding mine automatically. Katya perches on the edge of the chair across from us, her eyes darting between our faces.
"What is it?" She sounds nervous. "You're scaring me."
