“Mikhail, what’s wrong?” Her voice is soft, concerned. “We won. It’s over.”
I look at her, at this woman who has become my entire world, and I know I have to tell her the truth. She deserves that much.
“It’s not over, Sophia. It’s never over.” I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. “Torrino was right. Other enemies will come. They’ll see my mercy today as weakness, and they’ll move against us. Against you.”
“So what are you saying?” Her eyes search mine, and I see the moment she understands. The moment hope dies and is replaced by something harder. “No. Mikhail, no. You promised we’d try to go legitimate.”
“I did try.” My voice is rough with emotion I can’t quite control. “But I can’t protect you by being legitimate. I can’t keep our child safe by playing by society’s rules. The only way to survive in my world is to embrace it fully. To be the pakhan everyone fears.”
“You’re going back.” It’s not a question. “You’re going back to your old ways.”
“I never really left them.” The admission costs me, but it’s true. “I’ve been pretending, trying to be someone I’m not. But that man will get us killed. I need to be what I was before. Cold. Calculating. Ruthless. It’s the only way.”
Sophia’s face goes pale. She sways slightly, and I tighten my grip on her arms to steady her. “You’re choosing violence over our family.”
“I’m choosing violence toprotectour family.” I pull her closer, desperate for her to understand. “Don’t you see? Every enemy I eliminate, every example I make, it’s all to keep you safe. To keep our child safe. I love you, Sophia. That’s why I have to do this.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but no words come out.
Her eyes roll back, and suddenly her legs give out.
I catch her before she hits the ground, my heart lurching into my throat.
37
SOPHIA
I stand at the window of our bedroom, my hand resting on the slight swell of my stomach that’s just beginning to show.
Three months pregnant, and already I can feel how everything has changed.
Not just my body, but the entire dynamic between Mikhail and me.
He sits at his desk across the room, his blonde hair catching the afternoon light as he reviews documents.
Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches as he reads. He’s been like this for days, ever since the confrontation with Torrino ended.
“We need to talk,” I say, turning to face him.
His green eyes lift to meet mine, and I see the wariness there. He knows what’s coming. We’ve been dancing around this conversation since he told me he was going back to his old ways.
“About what?” His voice is carefully neutral.
“About our child.” I move closer, my hand still protective over my belly. “About the world we’re bringing them into.”
Mikhail sets down his pen and leans back in his chair. “I’m doing this to protect you. To protect our baby.”
“By becoming the monster again?” The words come out sharper than I intend. “By surrounding our child with violence and death?”
“By making sure no one dares to threaten our family.” He stands and crosses to me, his hands gentle as they cover mine on my stomach.
I want to pull away, but the warmth of his touch, the genuine concern in his eyes, keeps me rooted in place. “There has to be another way.”
“There isn’t.” His voice is firm, final. “I’ve spent weeks thinking about this. The only way to keep you safe, to keep our baby safe, is to be stronger than everyone else. More feared. More powerful.”
“So our child grows up watching their father kill people? Learning that violence is the answer to every problem?” My voice breaks despite my attempt to stay strong. “That’s not the life I want for them.”
Mikhail’s hands tighten on mine. “It’s the life that will keep them alive.”
