I told him I understood, that it was just an appointment and not the end of the world, but part of me still hoped the roar of a helicopter would suddenly blot out the sky and he’d step out, determined to make it in time.
He would have, if it were possible.
Knowing that doesn’t stop the disappointment from lingering.
Devin pops her door open and leans back to look at me. “You coming, Mama, or are you planning to use your mafia cred to have the staff come out to the car?”
“Don’t call me that,” I mutter, but a brief smile skirts across my lips. “Do you think…?” My fingertips graze the phone in my pocket. For some reason, the last week or so, I’ve been thinking of Liev.
I haven’t seen him, but Kaz insists everything on the business end of things is going normally. It is strange that my father hasn’t flipped any tables or outright attacked his best-friend-turned-enemy in meetings.
Still, I’m surprised by the sudden feeling ofwantthat aches in my chest. Not wanting my mom, which throws me off. In the back of my mind, I know she’d be livid and mortified at this whole situation.
No. A small part of me wants Liev to check in, be an over-excited grandparent, choose a ridiculous nickname like “G-pop” or “Chief” instead of the classic “deda” in Russian. Knowing that I’m going to have a child is throwing me off balance. I suddenly find myself wanting a family, wanting a little village gathered around me.
“Nevermind,” I murmur, ignoring the concerned look Devin gives me and sliding out of the car.
Rain falls in a steady drizzle that darkens the sidewalk and turns the air cool against my skin. It isn’t a storm, just one of those persistent Savannah showers that soak through your clothes before you realize what’s happening. Devin flips up her hood and hands me the umbrella from the back seat, nudging me forward with her shoulder.
“You nervous?” Devin asks as we hurry toward the door, sharing the umbrella.
“A little,” I admit. “Mostly excited. I keep thinking about names and then panicking because what if the name doesn’t fit the baby’s face? Or what if Kazimir wants to go, like, full Bratva with a classic Russian name?”
She snorts. “You’re spiraling already. Kaz is doomed. He’s going to come home to you with seventeen spreadsheets.”
“I would never.”
“You absolutely would.”
I laugh, the sound light and easy, and for a moment everything feels normal. Ordinary. Just two women ducking into an early appointment before work. No bodyguards, no Bratva politics, no billion-dollar tech empire looming over us.
Just me, my best friend, and a baby on the way.
We’re a few steps from the door when something shifts behind us. There is a disturbance in the quiet that makes the fine hairs along my arms stand up. I start to turn, expecting maybe a passerby or someone from the nearby bakery stepping out for air, and the next second the world seems to tilt.
There’s a heavy, sickening crack, like a bat hitting wet clay.
Devin’s hand slips from mine.
I blink, confused, and she isn’t upright anymore.
She’s on the ground.
Her hood is twisted under her head, her body limp in a way that makes my brain stall out before the panic can even form.
“Devin?” My voice sounds distant to my own ears.
A man looms over her, broad and faceless in a dark hoodie, something metallic clutched in his hand. Before I can process what I’m seeing, he bends, hooks his arms under hers, and starts dragging her backward toward the narrow alley beside the building as if she weighs nothing at all.
Her shoes scrape across the pavement, leaving faint streaks of water behind.
“Hey! Stop! What are you doing?” I stumble after them, heart slamming so hard it makes me dizzy. “Let her go!”
He doesn’t answer or even look at me, just keeps hauling her away like she’s a bag of trash.
I take another step and collide with someone.
The impact is solid, unyielding, a chest that doesn’t budge when I hit it. I stumble back in surprise, losing my balance and landing flat on my ass.
