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I blinked at him. “What do you mean, no?”

“You are not teaching my granddaughter how to shoot.”

“She’s half-Orlov,” I argued. “It’s a birthright. We come out of the womb knowing how to aim.”

Yelena chuckled weakly. “Papa, you taught me how to shoot when I was eleven.”

“That was different,” Stas muttered.

“How?” I said, offended on behalf of the baby.

“I was teaching her to protect herself.”

“And we’ll teach her to protect herself too.” Yelena nodded at me with a smile. “See? Yuriy’s reasonable.”

“Thank you,” I said proudly. “You’re the sensible one in your family. Honestly, I would’ve asked you to marry me if you weren’t so set on my brother.”

Stas glared. “Yuriy.”

Yelena giggled. “You can marry my father instead.”

I snorted. “He’d be too worried about going all gray from a marriage to me.”

Stas opened his mouth⁠—

Shut it.

Opened it again.

I leaned back, grinning. “Relax, moya lyubov’. I’m happy with things exactly as they are. Besides, sneaking off with your dad when we’re back in Chicago? Way hotter than any marriage. Keeps the romance alive.”

Yelena laughed so hard she moaned and tried to hold it in. Even Stas’s scowl twitched into something like defeated affection. I knew I was good for him.

But we’ll never be able to be together in public once we leave this city.

I would rather be with Stas secretly than not at all, but there was still the matter of whether his men had said anything to anyone in Chicago. Of the three men who should have had my back tonight, two fled, so Stas had them killed. The other one apologized and begged for forgiveness. His fate was still up in the air.

For a moment, the chaos, the blood, the fear—everything outside that room—faded.

There was only us. Yelena glowing with new motherhood. Stas watching her like she was his whole world. Me holding the newest piece of our ridiculous, dangerous, stitched-together family. But fatigue crept in—the heavy, medical kind, and my arms sagged slightly.

Stas immediately swooped in, taking the baby from my hands. “All right,” he murmured, voice gentle. “That’s enough excitement. You’re done for tonight.”

“I’m fine,” I protested weakly.

“You’re barely conscious.” He placed the baby in the crook of Yelena’s arms and came over to me, but I held my hand up.

“I can walk. Just let me lean on you a little.”

At first, I thought he would argue, but he nodded, slipping an arm around my waist. “Say good night, kroshka.”

“Merry Christmas, Yuriy,” Yelena whispered. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Merry Christmas, printsessa. I’ll check on you in the morning.” And as Stas ushered me from the room, I couldn’t resist adding loud enough for her to hear, “Such a sweet girl. Nothing at all like her father.”

“I’m not sweet to you?” Stas asked as the door closed behind us.

I leaned into him and sighed as I shuffled my feet. “Yeah, you are.”