Page 37 of The Bratva Queens' Kings

"For the baby."

In the sterile brightness of the hospital, I take charge the way I always do when things get tough. Handling paperwork, whispering assurances, I guide Lana to the examination room. She's like a sister, more fragile now than I've ever seen her. I lay her down gently, my heart heavy but my voice steady. "I'll be right outside, okay? Just after the appointment." She nods, her eyes holding a sea of unspoken fears.

Stepping out, the corridor feels colder, emptier. I pull my jacket tighter around me, a futile shield against the chill of uncertainty. My phone vibrates, a jolt in the quiet. An unknown number. I ignore it, my mind preoccupied with Lana, with the tangled mess we find ourselves in. But it rings again, persistent. And again. On the fourth ring, curiosity overpowers my reluctance. I answer.

"Hello?"

"Hi Julia."

That voice. It cuts through the years, through the carefully built walls. My breath catches, my pulse quickens. Shit, this voice... Memories flood back, unbidden, unwelcome. It's him. It has to be. Why now? What does he want?

"Roman…"

"Can we talk?" His voice is hesitant, a stark contrast to the Roman I remember—confident, direct.

I'm taken aback, caution and loyalty warring within me. "You know Lana is furious. Talking to you... it's not just risky, it's practically signing my own death warrant." My words are sharp, a defense mechanism against the turmoil his presence evokes.

He goes quiet, and in that silence, I can almost hear him wrestling with his own set of dilemmas. Then, "Can you come out into the alleyway? We need to talk, face to face."

The seriousness in his tone tugs at me, despite the walls I've built. "Roman, this isn't the time. Lana's here, in the hospital, she was almost stabbed."

There's a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, a pause that stretches too long. "What?! Is she okay now? W-who did this?"

The accusation sits heavy on my tongue, a bitter pill. "You, Roman."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Julia?"

"You... Lana thinks it's you who ordered it." The words feel like a betrayal, voicing Lana's suspicions, giving them air.

There's a moment of silence, the kind that screams louder than any words could. Then, desperation laces his tone, a raw edge to his plea. "It wasn't me Julia… You know me."

"I don't know what to believe in anymore, Roman."

"I need to talk to you. Please, can you come out into the alleyway? I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

The seriousness in his voice pulls at something inside me, despite the walls I've erected over time. Still, the risk looms large, a shadow over his request. "Roman, do you understand what you're asking? With Lana so angry, I'm risking my life talking to you."

He goes quiet again, a heavy sigh whispering through the line. "I know, I know it's a lot. But I swear, Julia, I had nothing to do with what happened to Lana. You have to believe me."

My resolve wavers, his plea etching cracks in my determination. The Roman I know, the one I grew up with, couldn't be capable of such violence. Could he?

"Roman, this is... it's not easy. Lana is convinced you're behind this. Why would she think that if there wasn't any reason?"

"I don't know, but I need to explain. Face to face. Please, Julia."

The weight of his request, the sincerity in his voice, battles with the loyalty I owe Lana. It's a tug-of-war, his desperate need for understanding against the backdrop of Lana's pain and suspicion.

Finally, with a deep breath that does little to steady my racing heart, I make my decision. "Okay, Roman. But this is risky, and if Lana finds out..."

"She won't, I promise. Thank you, Julia. Thank you."

Ending the call, a mix of dread and determination settles over me. Stepping out into the cold clarity of the alleyway, I brace myself for the conversation ahead. Just what does he want from me? Am I making a mistake trusting him?

Chapter 19

Lana

Lying on the examination bed, I'm a cocktail of annoyance and raging hormones. The room's too bright, too clinical, and the ultrasound gel? Cold as hell against my skin, making me shiver and clench my teeth. I'm holding my breath, not out of anticipation, but because I'm trying not to snap at the next person who speaks to me in that overly calm, soothing tone.

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