Page 34 of Pregnant By the Bratva

“She was killed,” I say, my voice flat, devoid of the emotion I feel gnawing at my insides. “I was just a kid, but I remember every detail like it was yesterday. We were out, and then… it happened so fast. One moment she was there, and the next… she was gone.”

Sarah’s hand tightens on the album, her eyes wide with shock and sympathy. “Ivan, I’m so sorry.”

I shake my head, brushing off her apology. “Don’t be. It’s in the past. It shaped who I am—who we are. Kirill took it the hardest. He was older, understood more. He swore vengeance that day, and we kept that promise. We did what we had to do.”

There’s a darkness in my voice, a hard edge that I know Sarah hears. I watch her carefully, wondering if this will push her away, if the truth of who I am and where I come from will make her see me differently. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. Instead, she reaches out, placing her hand on mine, a simple gesture of comfort that I didn’t know I needed.

“The Mafia world… it’s dark, dangerous. I lost my childhood to its terrors, to the violence and the bloodshed. It’s all I’ve ever known. It’s what made me who I am.”

Sarah’s fingers tighten around mine, and when she speaks, her voice is soft but firm. “I know it’s a dark world, Ivan. You’ve survived it. You’ve come through it stronger.”

I stare at her, taken aback by the certainty in her voice, the way she looks at me, as if she sees something more than the darkness I’ve let define me. “Maybe,” I murmur, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. “But it’s a world I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Now… you’re part of it.”

She meets my gaze, her eyes filled with an emotion I can’t quite name—something between determination and understanding. “I chose this, Ivan. I knew what I was getting into. I’m not going to let the darkness swallow me whole.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, stirring something deep within me. I don’t respond immediately, instead letting the silence stretch between us, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.

In that silence, there’s a new understanding, a bond that feels stronger than anything we’ve shared before.

The weight of the past hangs between us, a shared burden that neither of us can escape. I can see the emotions swirling in Sarah’s eyes as she listens to my story, her expression softening as she processes the pain and loss I’ve just laid bare. There’s something else in her gaze—something deeper, a reflection of her own struggles and the scars she carries.

I don’t have to ask her to open up; I can see she’s ready, that she’s been holding on to her own story, just waiting for the right moment to let it out. She takes a deep breath, her fingers still entwined with mine, and begins to speak.

“My childhood wasn’t anything like what’s in those pictures,” she says, her voice low, almost hesitant. “My mother… she never really cared about me or my brother. She was always off somewhere, drunk, with some new boyfriend. I don’t even remember a time when she was sober. She was more like a stranger living in our house than a mother.”

I feel a pang of something—sympathy, anger, I’m not sure—stirring in my chest as I listen to her. The thought of Sarah, the strong, resilient woman I’ve come to know, being neglected and abandoned as a child twists something inside me. I tighten my grip on her hand, silently urging her to continue.

“My brother was just a kid,” she says, her voice cracking slightly. “He needed someone, and it wasn’t going to be her. So, I had to step up. I had to be the one to take care of him, to make sure he had food, that he got to school, that he was safe. I was just a kid myself, but there was no one else.”

She pauses, her eyes glazing over with the weight of the memories. I stay silent, letting her take her time, knowing how hard it is to dredge up these kinds of things.

“Then, when he got sick… everything changed. We didn’t have the money for his treatment. I was desperate. That’s when I got involved with the American Mafia. It was the only way to get the money we needed to save him. I didn’t think about what it would cost me in the long run. I just knew I couldn’t let him die.”

Her voice trembles, and I see the tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinks them back, determined to stay strong. I reach out, my hand brushing against her stomach, the place where our child is growing. The reality of it—of the life we’ve created together—hits me all over again, and I find myself wanting to offer her something I’m not sure I know how to give.

“Our child will never know that kind of terror,” I say softly, my hand resting on her stomach, feeling the faintest warmth beneath my palm. “I promise you, Sarah. They’ll be protected. They’ll grow up safely, with everything they need.”

She nods, her hand coming to rest on top of mine, her eyes locked on mine. There’s a fierce determination in her gaze, but also a vulnerability that she rarely lets show. “This child will be safe,” she agrees, her voice steady despite the emotion in her eyes. “They’ll have a life we never did.”

We’re both quiet for a moment, the weight of our promises hanging in the air between us. It’s an intimate moment, one that’s charged with more than just the physical connection we’ve shared. This is deeper, more meaningful, and I can feel it in the way my heart beats a little faster, the way my chest tightens with something that feels suspiciously like…care.

I’ve always been a man who keeps his emotions under tight control, who doesn’t let anyone get too close. With Sarah… it’s different. I find myself caring more than I ever expected to, more than I think I should. It’s unsettling, this growing attachment, but at the same time, it feels inevitable, like something I can’t stop even if I wanted to.

Sarah looks like she wants to say something, her lips parting slightly as she takes a breath. Before she can speak, my phone buzzes on the desk, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet.

I glance at the screen, my eyes narrowing as I recognize the number. It’s an important call—one I can’t ignore. I hesitate, torn between answering it and staying here with Sarah, in this moment that feels so rare, so fragile.

“I have to take this,” I say, my voice gruff as I pull away slightly, reaching for the phone.

Sarah nods, understanding flashing in her eyes, but I can see the way she tenses, the way the moment we shared begins to slip away. I hate the necessity of it, the way our lives are constantly interrupted by the demands of this world we’re both trapped in.

I answer the call, my tone sharp and businesslike as I speak. “What is it?”

“It’s Maxim,” comes the familiar voice, steady as always. “I’ve been keeping tabs on Kace and his crew. There’s been some chatter, but nothing solid. Interestingly, it seems like Sophia hasn’t said anything to Kace about Sarah’s involvement.”

“Good,” I reply, a sense of relief settling in my chest. “It keeps Sarah out of harm’s way.”

“That’s what I figured,” Maxim says. “For now, everything seems quiet on their end, but I’ll keep watching.”

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