“You’re going to talk to him,” she says softly.
I nod.
“I want to be there. When you tell my dad.”
My instinct is to refuse. To shield her from the fallout. To handle it alone like I handle everything else.
“This is my problem,” I tell her.
She squeezes my hand. “It’s ours.”
The word settles deep in my chest, heavy and certain.
I look down at our joined hands, at how naturally they fit together, and something in me shifts. Not weakness. Not surrender.
Something stronger.
Something that makes me want to burn the world down before I let anyone touch her.
She isn’t fragile. She’s choosing to stand beside me.
And as I pull her a little closer, feeling the quiet strength in her posture, I realize that whatever Liev says when he walks through that door, whatever it costs me, I already know the truth.
If it ever comes down to it, I would choose her.
The study door swings open without ceremony, and Liev strides in. He does not slam the door or raise his voice, yet the air tightens around him all the same. It’s as though the walls recognize the shift in power and brace for impact. Nika follows a step behind, silent and alert, his shoulders squared and his gaze already tracking exits and angles the way a soldier does when he expects blood.
If my uncle hadn’t been thePakhan,if Liev and I had come to power on the same level instead of having a blood tie into the business, I’m not sure who would’ve come out on top. But nowI’mthePakhan,and that’s what I remind myself as I face my best friend.
Liev’s eyes sweep the room once, landing on me, then sliding to Aly.
He stills.
It is subtle, that pause, but I know him too well not to see it. He’s read enough battlefields in his life to recognize when something is wrong before a word is spoken.
“Why is she here?” He asks, his tone low and controlled in a way that is far more dangerous than shouting.
Before I consciously decide to move, my body does it for me. I shift half a step forward, placing myself slightly between him and Aly. I’m not shielding her like a child, but creating a barrier all the same. The gesture is instinctive, territorial, and unmistakable.
Liev notices immediately.
His gaze sharpens.
“What’s going on?” he presses.
Aly’s fingers curl into mine, warm and steady, and I feel the faint tremor she is trying to hide. Liev’s gaze flickers to our hands, and his lip curls. She doesn’t retreat behind me. Instead, she squares her shoulders as though preparing to face a storm head-on. She’s stubborn and brave in a way that makes my chest ache.
“We need to talk,” I say. “All of us.”
“Then talk.”
There is no softness in the invitation.
I glance at Aly, silently asking if she is ready for this. She gives me a small nod, her chin lifting in defiance.
“She’s pregnant,” I tell him.
The word settles heavily between us.
