Page 22 of The Bratva Queens' Kings

The moment she mentions rest, something inside me rebels. I'm not some delicate flower that needs to be coddled and protected. I'm Lana. I've faced down men twice my size, made decisions that could turn the tide of our entire operation, and I've done it all without flinching.

With a defiant spark igniting within me, I turn away from the mirror, from the loose, flowy clothes that feel like a costume rather than a reflection of who I am. Striding back to my closet, I pull out my usual attire—sharp, form-fitting, and unapologetically me. The killer heels come last, an exclamation point to the statement I'm about to make.

Dressed once again in my armor, I face Julia, my posture radiating the unspoken challenge. "Yes, I'm a woman, yes I'm pregnant, yes I'm still in charge, and yes I will kick your ass if you suggest otherwise."

Julia watches me, a mixture of exasperation and admiration in her eyes. She knows better than to argue when I get like this. Instead, she offers a small nod, an acknowledgment of my decision, of my refusal to be anything less than what I've always been.

"Fine," she concedes, "But promise me you'll at least take it easy when you can. For the baby."

I don't respond. As Julia exits, leaving behind a trail of concern and unwavering support, I find myself sprawled on the bed, my gaze locked on the ceiling. It's a rare moment of stillness in a life otherwise marked by constant motion and peril. My thoughts wander, tracing the intricate patterns of what-ifs and maybes, until my phone buzzes, slicing through the silence.

It's Roman. Of course, it is. His timing's always had a knack for the dramatic.

Roman: How's the boss of all bosses feeling today? And more importantly, how's our littlest boss?

I can't help but smirk, even as my mind races to frame a reply that matches his tone.

Lana: Oh, we're plotting world domination, one kick at a time. How's my favorite troublemaker?

Roman: Causing mayhem, as per usual. But I've got to say, world domination sounds like a lot more fun with you two on board. Need a right-hand man?

His words, light and filled with an easy confidence, draw a genuine smile from my lips. The banter, the back-and-forth we've always had, it's comforting in its familiarity.

Lana: Oh, you're on the team, Roman. But remember, I'm the brains, you're the brawn. And what's this? Are you admitting I'm the better strategist?

I hit send, the challenge clear in my message. It's an old game between us, this dance of wit and words.

Roman: Better strategist? Please, I've got moves you've never seen. But I'll let you have this one. For the baby's sake.

As the messages ping back and forth, a flicker of hesitation snakes through me. Roman doesn't know that he is not the only candidate as a father. He has no idea that I’ve slept with both Grigori and Luca.

But even now, I can't help but think about how things would be different if he did know. Would it change the way he views me? Would it change the way I view myself?

His next message pops up, snapping me back to the present.

Roman: Anything I need to know? Updates on our empire's heir?

There it is, the opening I've been dreading and craving in equal measure.

Lana: There is something I need to tell you.

How do I admit to Roman, in a few short sentences, the complexity of our situation?

The first attempt is blunt, too direct. "Hey, you might not be the only candidate as a dad." But the words feel wrong as soon as they appear on the screen, too cold, too impersonal for something so profoundly intimate and complicated.

Delete. Start over.

The second try aims for a softer approach, but it's no better. "It's about the baby...and who the father could be." Still, it's not right. It feels like I'm hiding behind words, using them as a shield to avoid the hard truth.

I delete the message, start again, delete. Rinse and repeat. It's a dance of indecision, my fears tangling with the need for honesty.

Finally, I type out a new message, one that sidesteps the truth I'm not ready to confront.

Lana: Actually, I was thinking... we need a new strategy for the east side. Been too quiet lately.

It's irrelevant, a deflection that buys me time I'm not even sure how to use. I'm Lana, fearless leader of a syndicate, yet here I am, dodging the truth because I'm scared of disrupting the fragile balance we've maintained.

Roman's reply comes quick, a sign that he's either oblivious to my turmoil or choosing to overlook it.

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