Page 148 of The Lazarov Bratva

My eyes flutter closed, and I rest in a quiet, blissful darkness as Kristof holds me. He keeps one hand over my belly, stroking this thumb in circles, and the warm touch soothes me right down to my very soul.

Until an old thought makes itself known, and I open my eyes.

“What about Alyona?” My words are hoarse. “She kept pushing and pushing. She knew, and if she told them, then what if they come for me and our baby? I didn’t want to tell you yet because I was so scared it would make things worse for you, or that you would hate me, but I can’t… I know it’s only the size of nothing, but I can’t?—”

Kristof silences my worried, tearful tirade with a kiss. I clutch at him, fighting back a sob because one thought spirals into the next and it’s overwhelming.

“Alena.” Kristof’s voice is steady as the kiss breaks. He catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. “Your father will never get near you or our baby, do you understand me? There is nothing, absolutely nothing I won’t do to keep the two of you safe. You are my family, and I will protect you with everything I have until my dying breath.”

A mixture of a sob and a soft laugh erupts from my chest. “Let’s hope it doesn’t get that far, okay?”

“Okay.” Kristof holds me close and kisses me so deeply that my back bows and my heart flutters exactly like it did with our first kiss.

I believe him. I know what he’s capable of, and when Kristof has something to defend, he’s unbeatable.

We spend the day together, mostly with Kristof doting on me at every turn. There’s a moment of tension when he learns that Andrev was with me when I found out I was pregnant and didn’t tell him, but rather than the jealous outburst I expect, Kristof thanks him for keeping me safe.

It’s an insight into how Kristof has grown, even in small ways, since we first got together, and I’m proud of him. I make it known with several kisses and smothering words of love.

He needs them because in the quiet moments when he thinks I’m not looking, the pain returns to his eyes, a hollowness that is yet to be explained. Maybe it’s Alyona. I can’t imagine the pain of learning that the mother you loved saw you as nothing more than a respectful obligation. Given how few people Kristof has whom he actually trusts, that has to shake his foundation.

I promise myself quietly that I will rebuild that foundation from the ground up if I have to.

We fall asleep together in a tangle of limbs with Kristof’s hand warm on my belly and peace in my heart that no matter what, we will do everything we can to be safe.

That peace falters slightly the next morning when I slowly wake up. There’s an absence of heat next to me, and when I slide my hand across the sheets in search of Kristof, all I find is a cold, empty bed.

Groaning, I roll over and stretch, but pressure around my other wrist prevents the good morning stretch that I desire. My eyes snap open as the pressure becomes constraining. Sitting up, the pressure makes itself known as a flat leather cuff sits around my right wrist, connected to a silver chain that stretches taut to the headboard.

Kristof… tied me to the bed again?

“Kristof!”

10

KRISTOF

Alena’s cry rings through the house, and Andrev looks up from his tablet.

“You’re in trouble,” he says pointedly.

“And you’re toeing a line,” I reply, but there’s no real venom to my tone. I can’t be angry, not at something like that, because Alena is pregnant.

We’re going to have a baby.

It’s a bittersweet moment since the last time I considered such a reality was during a discussion with Nastja. She would be over the moon if she were still alive.

Gotta focus on the positives.

Alena is carrying my baby, which means we’re about to become a proper family, and there is nothing I won’t do to keep her safe.

Aleksander’s days are numbered.

Tray in hand, I hurry up the stairs to the bedroom, where Alena continues to yell for me and shows no signs of stopping. Sure, my protective instincts might be going into overdrive, but it’s all in her best interests.

“I’m here, relax.” My attempt to soothe her as I walk into the bedroom is met by a sharp glare as she pointedly holds up her bound wrist.

“What the hell is this?”

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