Page 17 of The Bratva Queens' Kings

I sit on the damn stretcher, feeling like I'm about to jump out of my skin. This is all too real, too immediate. The thought of what's to come, of the life growing inside me, it's overwhelming.

Julia doesn't say anything for a moment, just lets me process. Then, gently, she says, "Lana, you've got this. You're one of the strongest people I know. This baby? It's going to have the best mom ever."

Her words, meant to comfort, do pierce through the fog of my panic. A laugh, humorless but genuine, escapes me. "Best mom ever? I'm a mob boss, Jules. My idea of a bedtime story is probably not what you'd find in parenting books."

But Julia just smiles, her confidence in me unshaken. "And yet, I can't think of anyone better. You're going to teach this kid to be strong, smart, and, most importantly, loved. That's more than what most can offer."

"I don't know Julia…"

Julia leans against the cold, sterile wall of the examination room, her eyes twinkling with a mix of mischief and reassurance. "Remember when you pulled off that coup? Took the syndicate right out from under your father's feet at just twenty-one?"

I can't help but snort at the reminder, a wry smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Yeah, because he murdered my mother," I reply, the smile fading as quickly as it appeared. "I did what I had to do. But Julia, I hate the thought of bringing a child into this... this chaos. This instability."

Julia's response comes quick, a laugh bubbling up from her as she offers a ludicrous but heartwarming alternative. "Well, if the guys ever fuck up, you can always raise the kid with me. I'll be the cool aunt."

"Imagine that," I say, the laughter still lingering in my voice. "Us, with a kid in tow, running the syndicate by day and attending PTA meetings by night."

Julia joins in my laughter, the sound echoing off the sterile walls, filling the room with a warmth that's been sorely missing. "We'd be unstoppable," she quips, winking. "PTA president in a month, tops. Who's going to argue with us?"

"Do you think I'm making the wrong choice, Julia?" The question slips out, a whisper of doubt in a sea of uncertainty. Even asking feels like a betrayal of my usual unshakeable confidence.

Julia looks at me, her gaze steady, unwavering. "No, absolutely not. You should always trust your gut, Lana. I don't remember a time it has wronged you."

A bitter laugh escapes me, tinged with nerves. "There's a first time for everything."

"Lana... listen." Julia's voice is firm, pulling me from my spiral of doubt. "I know you'll be a great mom. Not because you're some mob leader or anything like that... but because I know you. The real you. Not the 'mob Lana,' but... Lana."

For a moment, I'm touched, reminded of the life outside the syndicate, of the person I am when I'm not 'Lana the mob boss.'

But I can't help myself, the need to lighten the mood, to push away the seriousness of our conversation with a bit of sass. "So, what you're saying is, I'll be the mom who knows how to dispose of the bodies if my kid gets bullied?"

Julia bursts into laughter, the sound bright and genuine. "Exactly," she says, grinning. "No one messes with your kid. Plus, you'll have the most well-behaved playdates. No one's going to risk a time-out from Lana."

The laughter that bubbles up from my throat feels like a release, a momentary escape from the weight of my decisions. For just a moment, in the safety of Julia's presence, I allow myself to imagine it — a future where I'm not just Lana the mob boss, but Lana, a mother.

"Thanks, Jules," I say, once our laughter subsides, a smile still playing on my lips. "For everything."

She nods, her expression softening. "Always, Lana. You know I've got your back, no matter what."

I give her a nod, but I don’t say anything else.

"I'll go call the doctor. You just calm down." She says.

Calm down. Yeah, right. As if being calm was ever a choice for me. I've lived on the razor's edge of calm and chaos my entire life. Seeing death? Stay calm. Enduring torture? Keep calm. Killing my own father? Ice cold calm. It's not just a state of mind; it's survival. I grew up in a house where the air was thick with cigarette smoke and danger, a constant reminder of the world I was born into. I can almost still smell that stench, and it makes me gag.

Growing up, I held onto this naive hope that things would get easier, that somehow, I'd find a way out, live the life of a normal teenager. But it was a fool's dream. The mob doesn't release its grip so easily. The sound of a gunshot, the image of my father's body hitting the floor—it's etched into my memory. That bastard had it coming, but the price of freedom was steep.

I've borne the weight of my decisions, the scars they've left behind—both physical and mental. Being punished, beaten, it was all part of the daily routine. But I survived. I fought back, took control, and never looked back.

But this kid... my kid... I'll be damned if they grow up like I did. Surrounded by violence, learning to numb their feelings just to make it through the day. They deserve better, a chance at something resembling a normal life, whatever that may mean in our world.

The thought of bringing a child into this life, into my world, is terrifying. But maybe, just maybe, it's also a chance. A chance to do things differently, to break the cycle. I've fought for everything in my life—my position, my respect, my survival. Now, I'll fight for this kid. To give them the peace I never had, the safety I never felt.

Julia's footsteps fade away, and I'm left alone with my thoughts, the weight of my past and the uncertainty of my future pressing down on me. But one thing's clear: this child won't face the world alone. They'll have me, and I'll do whatever it takes to shield them from the darkness that's been my constant companion.

The sound of the door opening snaps me back to the present, the doctor's arrival pulling me from the depths of my reflections. It's time to face this new chapter, whatever it may bring. For my kid, I'll face it head-on, with all the strength and determination that's gotten me this far. Because that's what you do when you're Lana: you fight, you survive, and you protect what's yours.

The doctor, with her kind smile and small black glasses, enters the room, her movements slow, hinting at an issue with her leg. There's a bubbly, almost quirky energy about her that feels oddly comforting in the sterile environment of the doctor's office.

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