Page 5 of The Bratva Queens' Kings

"And, um, there's something else," she hesitates, her voice dropping as she hands me a small box — the pregnancy test I'd asked her to get. Her hand's shaking, bless her innocent soul.

I take the box, feeling the weight of it like a judgment. "Thanks, Jules. You're a lifesaver."

Her cheeks flush with pleasure at the praise, but her eyes are filled with concern. "Is everything okay, Lana? I mean, if you need to talk or anything—"

"I'm fine, Jules. Just a little... preoccupied, that's all." Discarding the rest of my clothes in a trail towards the bathroom, I can feel her eyes on me, filled with questions she's too polite — or too nervous — to ask.

The truth is, I'm not fine. I'm a mess. A pregnancy scare is the last thing I need, especially when the father could be any number of mistakes from the past few months. It's not like I keep a Rolodex of my bed partners. But staring at the box in my hand, I can't help but feel a twinge of something unexpected. Fear? Excitement? Probably indigestion, knowing my luck.

"I... I don't even know who the dad would be," I admit, more to myself than to Julia. It's a vulnerability I'd never show to anyone else, but Julia's different. She's seen me at my worst and never judged. She just helps piece me back together.

She steps closer, her nervousness replaced by a soft, sisterly concern. "I'm sure you have some idea of the... candidates, if you're pregnant."

I let out a sigh, a laugh without humor. "Candidates. Makes it sound like we're on some twisted game show." I pause, the reality settling in. "There are three... potential fathers."

Her eyebrows shoot up, a mix of surprise and curiosity lighting up her eyes. "Three? Who could they be?"

The names feel heavy on my tongue, each one carrying its own set of complications, dangers, and what-ifs. "Grigori, Roman, and... Luca."

Julia's mouth forms a perfect 'o' of shock, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, Lana," she breathes out, the names obviously resonating with her, understanding the gravity of each option.

"Yeah, 'oh' is right." I toss the pregnancy test box onto the counter, feeling the weight of my choices, the potential consequences of my actions. "Each of them... carries a different set of complications."

Julia nods, her earlier nervousness replaced by the calm of someone walking through a minefield. "Do you have any idea... I mean, who do you hope it is?"

The question hangs in the air, thick and unanswerable. I shake my head, a mess of emotions. "Hope? I don't know if that's the right word. Each possibility is like choosing between a rock, a hard place, and a cliff edge."

She reaches out, placing a tentative hand on my shoulder. "Whatever happens, Lana, we'll figure it out. You're not alone."

Her assurance is a small comfort in the chaos of my thoughts. Alone or not, the path ahead is fraught with danger, and the decision, mine alone to make.

"Julia, can you keep this... private, between us?"

Her response is immediate, her loyalty never in question. She mimics zipping her lips and locks it with a key, tossing it away. "Your secret will go to the grave with me, Lana. You know that."

I can't help but smile, the corner of my mouth lifting in genuine appreciation. "Thanks, Jules."

I turn the pregnancy test over in my fingers, each second stretching into eternity as I brace myself for what's to come.

Walking into the bathroom, I set the box down on the counter, my reflection staring back at me from the mirror. The woman looking back seems like a stranger, caught in the throes of a life she never anticipated. Yet here I am, about to take a test that could change everything.

My hands are steady as I prepare the test. It's a simple thing, really, just a piece of plastic with the power to decide my immediate future. I follow the instructions mechanically, my mind a million miles away.

My life, a carefully constructed facade of power and control, now teeters on the edge of this porcelain precipice. Grigori, with his piercing eyes and dangerous promises; Roman, whose charm and smooth words could seduce the devil himself; or Luca, enigmatic and intense—each one has the potential to either save me or drag me under.

I close my eyes, breathing deeply. The air feels heavy with the scent of jasmine from my last bath; it's intended to calm but instead seems to mock with its sweet tranquility.

Three minutes. That's all it takes to know. Three minutes to decide if I need to prepare for war or navigate an even more treacherous peace. Each man has his own empire, his own agenda; if word gets out about a baby—my baby—the balance would shift and not necessarily in my favor.

It's positive. Two pink lines glaring up at me from a fucking stick.

"Fuck."

The test slips from my fingers, clattering onto the counter as if in solidarity with my sudden numbness.

Leaning heavily against the sink, I stare at myself in the mirror. The color has drained from my face, leaving me pale, haunted even. There's no warmth in my eyes, just a dawning realization of the precariousness of my position.

A knock at the door breaks through my reverie; too soft to be one of them. It must be Jules.

---