Page 126 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

"That's what we need to figure out," Emil says, his voice steady and calm despite the gravity of what he's saying. "My men have been investigating every angle within the Bratva. Every family, every grudge, and every possible connection. And they've come up empty. Whoever this is, they're not part of my world."

"Then whose world are they part of?" Jack asks, his detective instincts taking over. "Someone has to be behind this. Professional shooters don't just randomly target people."

"No, they don't," Emil agrees. "Which means we're missing something. Some connection we haven't considered yet."

I should be paying more attention to this, should be engaged in the conversation about someone literally trying to kill me. But all I can think about is the life growing inside me, the impossible reality that's just been dropped in my lap. How can I focus on shooters and threats when I'm going to be a mother?

The thought sends a wave of nausea through me, and I have to swallow hard to keep from running to the bathroom again. I take a small sip of water, forcing it down past the lump in my throat. If they're trying to kill me, then that means my unborn child is in danger, too.

"We should go to the police," Kevin says. "File a report and get official protection."

"No," Emil and Jack say at the same time. They look at each other, and something passes between them. An understanding, maybe. Or just a shared knowledge of how useless that would be.

"The police can't protect her from this," Jack continues, his voice heavy with resignation. "Not if it's a professional. And if Emil's right, if this isn't connected to the Bratva, then we don't even know where to start looking."

The conversation continues, but I tune it out again. My mind is spinning, trying to process everything at once and failing spectacularly. A baby. Emil's baby. The words don't feel real, don't connect to anything tangible in my reality.

Finally, mercifully, breakfast ends. Emil stands, his expression grim and thoughtful. "Library," he says, his tone making it clear this isn't a request.

My brothers exchange glances but follow without argument. We all move through the estate together, a strange procession of tension and unspoken worry. Kevin walks beside me, his hand briefly touching my shoulder in silent support. Devin and Kaleb bring up the rear, their expressions troubled.

The library is warm and comfortable, filled with leather furniture and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Luca is already there, standing by the window with his usual watchful posture. He must have slipped away during breakfast.

Emil gestures for everyone to sit. My brothers settle onto the various chairs and sofas, their body language wary. I sink into one of the armchairs, grateful to be off my feet. The nausea is still there, a constant reminder of the secret I'm carrying.

Emil remains standing, his hands in his pockets, his expression thoughtful as he surveys all of us. The silence stretches for a long moment before he speaks.

"We're not getting married today," he says without preamble.

My heart lurches. "What?"

He runs a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of frustration. "It's too dangerous right now. I was rash last night, demanding that we marry today. That was a mistake."

Relief floods through me so powerfully that I have to grip the arms of the chair to steady myself. I just found out I'm pregnant. I wasn't ready to get married today too. The timing would have been impossible, overwhelming, too much to process all at once.

"Thank God," Kevin mutters, and I see the tension drain from his shoulders.

Jack leans forward, his elbows on his knees. "So, what's the plan? We can't just sit around waiting for this person to make another move."

"We won't be," Emil says. "My men are investigating every angle. We'll find whoever's behind this."

"And in the meantime?" Devin asks. "What happens to Kiera?"

"She stays here. Protected." Emil's tone brooks no argument.

Kaleb shifts in his seat. "What about our lives? Work? Mark and I have the adoption process to think about."

"I've already made arrangements," Emil says. He looks at me carefully, his dark eyes searching my face. "Are you all right? You've been quiet all morning."

"I'm fine," I lie, acutely aware of my brothers watching me. "Just tired. Last night was a lot."

He accepts this with a nod, though I'm not sure he believes me. "Get some rest. We'll talk more later."

They continue talking for another hour, the conversation turning to logistics and safety protocols. I participate when necessary, but mostly I just listen, my mind elsewhere.

My brothers retreat to their guest rooms. After they're gone, after Emil and Luca disappear into his office to coordinate security, I finally escape to my room, closing the door behind me and leaning against it with my eyes closed. My hand goes to my stomach again, and this time, I let it stay there. A baby. I'm going to have a baby.

The week that follows is strange. Time moves both too fast and too slow, days blurring together while individual moments stretch into eternity. Emil talks to my boss at the magazine, somehow convincing them to extend my leave of absence. I don't ask how he managed it. I'm learning not to ask those kinds of questions.