A new life was a blessing no matter how it came to be. No matter what contract had summoned it into existence or whose name it would carry. It was growing. It had a heartbeat. It had hands becoming themselves on a screen.
My eyes found Tau again. I wondered about his past—whether he had children somewhere, younger siblings, someone he had held a photograph like this for. His reaction hadn’t been cold or disconnected. It had been quiet in the way of someone who understood the weight of what they were holding.
Not what I would have expected from a killer.
I rested my head against the cool glass and watched the city move past. The grey skies persisted. The wind was still sharp. But in a couple of months there would be blue again. The summer was fleeting, but I was accustomed to our climate.
I stroked my belly.
Six more months.
I prayed it was a boy.
Chapter 35
Vadim
Her car pulled away while I stood beside mine, still holding the second picture the nurse had printed.
A sudden gust of wind made me clutch it tighter.
I hadn’t expected the moment to land the way it did. I had been there to confirm the investment was progressing. To verify the vitals. To file the result and move on.
But there it was. Inside her.
Moving. Breathing. Existing.
My child.
I watched Radovan’s car until it disappeared around the corner, catching one last glimpse of her hair through the rear window.
No matter how much I needed to fuck, I hadn’t stepped foot in her room. Not once. She had drawn that line and I had let it stand, which was its own kind of answer to a question I hadn’t asked.
What the hell did she have to be depressed about?
The question sat wrong the moment it formed. I knew the answer. I just didn’t want to look at it.
Tikhon opened the door and I got in.
I didn’t go to the office.
I went to see my father and Konstantin instead. They knew Iskra was pregnant, but perhaps they would join me in my happiness at seeing my son for the first time.
??????
It was rare to see my father smile so openly. Rarer still to see a glimpse of humanity in him — the warmth that most men wore naturally and that sat on Lev Dragunov like a borrowed coat. Yet as he held the picture I saw it. Pride. And something softer underneath it, moving briefly across his usual cold eyes before he contained it.
He held onto the picture a beat longer than necessary before passing it to Konstantin.
“We should get you married next,” he grunted, reaching for the bottle.
Konstantin’s head snapped up. He recoiled visibly, the way a man recoils from something he finds genuinely offensive.
“Tied to a woman? No. I prefer my freedom.”
Our father set the bottle on the table harder than necessary. His eyes hardened.
“I had you, didn’t I?”
