The call ended, and I sat in the darkening room, my hand pressed to my stomach.
One more day.
***
That night, I noticed the guards.
I'd grown accustomed to their presence over the past weeks—the quiet men in dark suits who patrolled the perimeter, who nodded politely when I passed but rarely spoke. They were furniture, part of the landscape of my captivity that I'd stopped really seeing.
But tonight, there were more of them. Double the usual number on the western perimeter. Additional men stationed at the dock, at the helipad, at points along the road I'd never seen guarded before.
I found Yelena in the kitchen and asked as casually as I could. "Is something happening? The security seems... different tonight."
Her expression flickered—the briefest hesitation before her usual warm efficiency returned. "Mr. Chernov ordered additional precautions. Nothing to worry about."
"Why would he order additional precautions?"
"I'm sure he has his reasons, Mrs. Chernov. You know how protective he is."
She was lying. Or at least, not telling me the whole truth. I could see it in the way she avoided my eyes, the slight tension in her shoulders.
Something was wrong. Something Vasily wasn't telling me, something that had prompted him to triple the guards and fly back a week ahead of schedule.
Fear crept through me, cold and insidious. Not for myself—I'd grown strangely accustomed to the danger that surrounded my new life. But for the baby. For the tiny life I was carrying, the one who hadn't chosen any of this, who was already caught up in a world of violence and secrets.
I pressed my hand to my stomach and made a silent promise.
Whatever happens, I'll protect you. Whatever it takes.
***
Sleep came slowly that night.
I lay in the too-big bed, one hand resting on my abdomen, and tried to imagine the future. A baby in this house, in this life. First steps on marble floors. First words in English and Russian. A child who would grow up surrounded by guards and luxury, who would never know the fear of not being enough, who would be loved fiercely by a father who understood what it meant to protect what was his.
Because Vasily would love this child. I knew that with a certainty that surprised me. Whatever else he was—criminal, kidnapper, monster—he would be devoted to his son or daughter. Would burn the world down to keep them safe.
Just like he'd burned down my old life to keep me safe.
The thought should have frightened me. Instead, it brought a strange comfort.
I tried to imagine telling him. Watching his face change as the news sank in. Would he be happy? Terrified? Both? He'd never mentioned wanting children, but then again, neither had I. This wasn't something either of us had planned.
But maybe the best things never were.
I thought about my mother, dead before I'd really understood what I was losing. I thought about my father, with his cold expectations and his conditional love. I thought about the childhood I'd had—always striving, never enough, desperate for approval that never came.
This child would have something different. This child would know it was wanted, would never doubt that it mattered, would grow up secure in the knowledge that its parents would move mountains to protect it.
Its parents. The word felt strange in my mind. I was going to be a mother. Vasily was going to be a father.
We were going to be a family.
The thought settled over me like a warm blanket, and I realized with surprise that I was smiling.
Fear was still there, curled beneath the surface. Uncertainty about the future, about Vasily's reaction, about the world I'd be bringing a child into. But underneath the fear, something else was growing.
Hope. Fragile and tentative, but real.
