Everything, I thought. My future. My protection. My soul, if I have one left.
But I couldn't say that. Not yet. Not when the words felt too big, too dangerous.
Instead, I kissed her—soft and slow, a promise without words—and rolled us onto our sides, pulling her back against my chest. My hand found its way to her stomach, resting there like it belonged.
"Sleep," I murmured against her hair. "I'll be here when you wake up."
"You'd better be."
She was asleep within minutes, her breathing evening out, her body relaxing into mine. I held her in the darkness, feeling her heartbeat against my palm, imagining the second heartbeat growing beneath it.
A child. A family. Something I'd never thought I'd have, never thought I deserved.
I pressed a kiss to the back of her neck and made a silent vow.
Nothing would touch them. Not Pankratov, not any enemy, not the violence that had defined my entire life. Whatever it took, whatever it cost, I would keep them safe.
Both of them.
My wife and my child.
My everything.
Chapter 17 - Gaby
I woke to the sensation of fingers tracing patterns on my skin.
Vasily's hand moved in slow circles across my stomach—featherlight, almost reverent. His chest was warm against my back, his breath stirring my hair. For a long moment, I kept my eyes closed and let myself exist in the cocoon of his body, the aftermath of last night still humming through my veins.
"I know you're awake," he murmured against my ear.
"How?"
"Your breathing changed." His hand stilled, pressing flat against my belly. "How do you feel?"
I considered the question. My body ached in places I hadn't known could ache, but it was a good ache—the kind that came from being thoroughly, devastatingly loved. And beneath the physical sensations, something else. Something that felt dangerously like happiness.
"I feel good," I admitted. "Better than I expected."
"No nausea?"
"Not yet. Give it an hour."
He laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest into my back. "I've already spoken with Yelena. She's preparing bland foods for breakfast—toast, crackers, ginger tea. And I'm arranging for a doctor to come to the island. A proper obstetrician. You'll need prenatal vitamins, checkups—"
"You've been busy." I turned in his arms to face him. In the morning light, he looked younger somehow. Softer. Thesharp edges that defined him seemed gentled by sleep and by whatever had shifted between us last night.
"I've been thinking. All night, while you slept." His hand found my stomach again, as if he couldn't stop touching the place where our child was growing. "There's so much to plan. So much to prepare for."
"It's early still. We have time."
"Not as much as I'd like." A shadow crossed his face—the reminder that our bubble of peace was temporary, that danger still lurked beyond the island's shores. "But enough. We'll make it enough."
I reached up and touched his jaw, feeling the rasp of stubble beneath my fingers. "You're really happy about this. The baby."
"I'm terrified," he corrected. "But yes. Beneath the terror—happy. Happier than I've been in longer than I can remember."
"Me too."
