Page 57 of The Bratva Stalker and His Pregnant Bride

I lean down, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. “I love you, buddy,” I whisper. “I’ll bring her home.”

I stand up, the warmth of the father fading, replaced instantly by the icy resolve of the protector. I walk out of the room, closing the door behind me, and slip my heavy jacket back on as I head for the elevator.

The thirty minutes are up. It’s time to end this.

I pause in the living room, where the nanny is anxiously waiting by the kitchen counter. The toll of the evening is written all over her face, but she straightens as I approach.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice carrying the quiet weight of my gratitude. “Please watch over him tonight. Keep the doors locked. We’ll be back soon, and I’ll make sure you’re heavily compensated for the extra hours and the stress.”

She offers a gentle, reassuring smile, shaking her head slightly. “It’s okay, Mr. Rusnak. Really. You don’t have to worry about that. Ethan is an amazing boy. Just…take care. He loves you very much.”

“I will,” I reply, the promise hard as iron.

I give her a final nod, walk out of the penthouse, and step into the waiting elevator. The descent is silent, the transition from father to predator completing itself before the doors even slide open at the parking garage.

I drive back to the office building, the streets passing in a dark, silent blur. There’s no hesitation left in me. No fear. Only the cold, tactical execution of a mission.

When I pull up, the blacked-out SUVs are already lined up curbside, engines idling in a low, rumbling chorus. Kaplan, Lukyan, and the rest of the team stand by the vehicles, fully geared, their expressions grim and ready. The air around them is thick with anticipation.

I step out of my car, my heavy boots hitting the pavement. I don’t need to give a speech. They know what we are going to do. They know what’s at stake.

I look at Kaplan, who gives me a single, sharp nod—the coordinates are locked, the perimeter is mapped, and the target is acquired.

“Let’s go,” I say.

I climb into the lead SUV, the door slamming shut with a heavy, armored thud, and we tear into the night.

The city lights stretch into long, bleeding lines of gold and red against the window as we speed down the highway, heading toward the isolated edge of the map. Inside the armored cabin, the silence is heavy, punctuated only by the low hum of the engine and the occasional static of the tactical comms.

I stare out at the passing dark, and for the first time tonight, my mind slips past the logistics, past the weapons checks and the building schematics.

The image of Ashley hits me. Not the broken version on the security feed, but the woman who challenged me, who laughed at my dry humor, who held our son with a fierce, quiet grace.

It hits me with the force of a physical blow: I love her.

It isn’t a new feeling, but rather a truth I’ve spent far too long trying to rationalize behind contracts, protocols, and the defensive walls I built to keep the world at bay. I’ve loved her since the moment she refused to let my dark world swallow her whole. She isn’t just my wife by signature or arrangement; she is the gravity that keeps me grounded. And the thought of a world without her is a vacuum I will not survive.

A heavy hand suddenly drops onto my shoulder, steady and grounding.

I look over. My brother, Lukyan, is watching me, his eyes reflecting the passing streetlights. He doesn’t offer hollow platitudes, but his grip is firm, carrying the weight of a lifetime of shared battles.

“We’ll bring her home, Samuel,” Lukyan says, his voice low and unwavering. “Safe. I promise you.”

I look at him for a beat, letting the words settle into the raw spaces of my chest. The tension in my jaw doesn’t ease, but the chaotic rage inside me solidifies into something much more dangerous: absolute purpose.

I give him a single, sharp nod.

“I know,” I say.

I turn back to the window, watching the city lights begin to thin, replaced by the dense, towering shadows of the forested outskirts. The hunt is almost over.

Chapter 29 – Ashley

The darkness pulls back reluctantly this time, like heavy silk dragging across rough stone.

My mind fights through the haze much faster. The terror is a cold weight in my chest, a natural shot of adrenaline that burns away the residual fog of the sedative. I force my eyes open, expecting the dark mahogany walls of the study, the heavy leather chair, the biting pressure of the zip-ties.

But everything has changed.