The kid’s wailing. Fucking wailing. In my goddamn ear, “Momma! Momma!” Over and over.
I squeeze him tighter, my jaw clenched so hard I swear I can hear my teeth grinding. He’s so tiny, so breakable. And he’sours.
Our son. The thought buzzes through my mind like an exposed wire.
“Shh, shhh…” I growl, the words harsh, too harsh. Fuck, how do you calm a kid down? Think, damn it, think!
“It’s… it’s okay,” I manage, the words feeling as foreign as the language of some goddamn alien race.
My gaze darts back to Wren. She’s moving fast as a fucking cheetah. Lunging for Elena. Hands out. Clawing for the gun.
They collide. Spinning across the floor. Debris crunching under them. “Wren!” Her name tears out of my throat. Raw. Primal. The kid in my arms—our son,fuck—starts thrashing. Little fists pummel my chest. Each hit a reminder. This is real. This is happening.
“I want Momma! I want Momma!”
“Don’t move,” I snarl. I adjust my grip. The kid’s slippery. Like trying to hold on to a greased pig. “Stop… stop moving, uh… kid!”
He’s not listening. His body shakes.
Yob tvoyu mat. This kid’s got some fire in him.
He twists in my arms, all elbows and knees, trying to squirm free. His face is a mess of snot and tears, but those eyes…Suka. They’re piercing. Fierce. Like I’m looking into a mirror but with Wren’s determination burning behind them.
“Momma!” he screams again, his voice raw. He’s not giving up, the stubborn little shit.
His tiny fists pound against my chest, each hit punctuated by a sob. “Let… go! I want… Momma!”
For such a scrawny little runt, he’s got some strength in him. Must get that from Wren, too. He manages to land an elbow right in my solar plexus, knocking the wind out of me.
“Ouff!” I wheeze, tightening my grip. “Stay calm, kid!”
But he doesn’t stay calm. Of course hedoesn’t.
He’s mine and Wren’s, after all. Stubborn as a fucking mule, trying to break free, to get to his mother. To protect her.
I feel it slipping.My control. Rage and fear battling it out in my chest.
“Hold your fire!” I order.
My men hover. Edging the room. Guns trained on the women. But they can’t shoot. Not without risking Wren.
“Boss!” Saveliy shouts over the chaos. “Enemies are down. But no sign of Zimniy.”
“Keep looking. Seal off the exits.”
I grunt, eyes locked on Wren and Elena. They’re a fucking tornado of rage, rolling across the floor. The gun’s between them, muzzle swinging wildly.
“Enough, Elena!” I bark, my voice booming over the boy’s wails and the tussle’s commotion. “Knock it off!”
“You think this changes anything, D? Zimniy won’t stop. He can’t be stopped—not by you, not by anyone here!”
“You’ve lost everything now—stop!”
“Lost? D, you fool!” she spits the words, face contorted with a mix of pain and fury as she tries to wrestle the gun from Wren. “This was never about what I had to lose. It’s about showing you the cost of your betrayal!”
“Shut the fuck up and die,” Wren snarls, her boot connecting with Elena’s jaw. The crack echoes through the room. Elena stumbles, blood spraying from her mouth.
I want to rush to Wren’s side. But I gotta keepourson safe,no matter what. He’s my flesh and blood, my own damn kid, even if he’s as stubborn as his mom.
