Page 26 of Between Power and Passion

"Shit," Alexei curses under his breath. He runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a rare seriousness. "We don't have the manpower to face both of them."

I stop pacing and turn to face him, my frustration boiling over. "You think I don't fucking know that? We need new plans."

Alexei nods, his jaw tight. "Yeah, we do. But it's not gonna be easy."

"I never expected it to be easy," I snap, but then I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my anger. "We need to regroup and rethink our strategy. Sergei and Mikhail working together is a whole new level of shitstorm."

"We'll figure it out," Alexei says, though there's a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

I nod. Valentina’s father and her supposed fiancé are now united against us, making our mission even more dangerous.

"Let's get out of here," I say finally. "We've got work to do."

Chapter 11 - Valentina

I grip the edge of the table as a wave of nausea crashes over me. The rich aroma of the food that the cook has placed before me should be enticing, but instead, it makes my stomach churn violently. I swallow hard, fighting against the urge to gag.

"Is everything alright, Miss Valentina?" the cook asks, her brow furrowed with concern.

I shake my head, unable to speak for fear of losing the battle against the rising bile in my throat. The cook seems to understand and quickly whisks the offending plate away. She returns a few moments later, her expression sympathetic.

"What can I get for you instead?" she asks gently.

I open my mouth to respond, but the sickening scent of the kitchen wafts over me, and I can't hold it back any longer. I clamp a hand over my mouth and bolt from the table, stumbling toward the kitchen. I barely make it to the sink before retching violently, my body convulsing as I empty the contents of my stomach.

The cook rushes to my side, patting my back soothingly. "There, there, dear," she murmurs. "The early stage is always difficult."

Her words penetrate the fog of nausea, and I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. Early stage? I straighten slowly. Of what?

"What did you say?" I whisper, my voice trembling.

The cook meets my gaze, her expression kind but tinged with sympathy. "The early stage of pregnancy, my dear. It can be quite unpleasant, but it passes."

Pregnancy. The word echoes in my mind, and suddenly, everything falls into place. The nausea, the missed periods—it's been nearly two months since my last one. How could I have been so blind?

A dizzy spell overtakes me, and I sway on my feet. The cook's arms wrap around me, steadying me as the room spins.

"Easy now," she soothes. "Let's get you back to your room to rest. I have a test kit I bought for my daughter. I'll bring it to you, and we can be sure."

I nod numbly, allowing her to guide me back to my quarters. My heart pounds in my chest, a mixture of fear and disbelief coursing through my veins. Pregnant. In this situation, with everything so uncertain and dangerous, the thought is terrifying.

But as the cook tucks me into bed, promising to return shortly with the test, a flicker of hope sparks within me. A child, a piece of Dmitri, could be growing inside me. Despite the chaos surrounding us, the idea fills me with a warmth I haven't felt in far too long.

The cook bustles back into the room, her face kind but professional.

"Here you are, dear," she says softly, handing me the box. "The toilet is right through there. Just follow the instructions and let me know if you need anything."

I sit on the edge of the bed, my hands trembling as I clutch the small plastic test kit. I nod mutely and make my way to the bathroom adjoining my bedroom. My heart is pounding so loudly I can hear the rush of blood in my ears. I tear open the packaging with shaking fingers and read through the steps.

A few minutes later, I'm seated on the closed toilet lid, the test lying on the counter before me. The wait is agonizing. Each second feels like an eternity as I grapple with the weight of what this result could mean.

Dmitri's face flashes in my mind. He's so consumed by his quest for vengeance, by the need to make my father pay for the horrors inflicted on his family. The idea of bringing a child into this volatile situation fills me with dread.

Is he even ready for that kind of responsibility? His heart is so hardened, so focused on righting the wrongs of the past. How could he make room for the future, for the unconditional love and commitment that a child requires?

A lump forms in my throat as I imagine his reaction. Would he be angry? Resentful? Seeing this as another burden? Would he resent me? Or would the idea of a family give him a glimmer of hope?

I squeeze my eyes shut, silently praying for the result to be negative. As terrifying as the thought of terminating a pregnancy is, the idea of bringing an innocent child into this world of violence and pain is even more horrifying.

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