Page 52 of Forced Pregnant Bride

Fuck, I could kill a thousand men for this woman if it meant keeping her by my side.

The stench of blood and gunpowder hung thick in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of death. We should have started moving toward the door to go home, but I didn’t want to move. Not yet, anyway.

Bodies were strewn across the floor, their lifeless eyes staring into the void, but I didn’t look at them.

I tipped her chin up, my gaze locked on her.

She stood in my arms, blinking with tears shimmering in her thick, long lashes, her blue eyes wide and sad. Her hair was wild, and her cheeks streaked with tears. But she was alive. She was here. My lungs expanded, drawing in a sharp.

Anticipating, she didn’t move, didn’t flinch, just stared at me like she couldn’t decide if I was truly her savior or a monster.

The weight of everything crashed into me—the chaos, the risk, the hell I just fought through to get to her andour baby.

Her skin was warm beneath my fingers, soft despite the faint bruises marring her cheek. “Serena,” I said, but it was more a growl, her name roughened by the raw emotion I couldn’t hold back.

She blinked, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I mumbled under my breath in Russian, “Fuck,I could have lost you.”

It hit me harder now after the dust had settled. The relief, the anger, the unexplainable need to confirm she was real,she was mine—it all exploded inside me. I pulled her to me, my arm sliding around her waist as my lips crashed against hers.

At first, the kiss was desperate and rough. I poured every ounce of my rage and relief into it, my fingers tangling in her hair as I tilted her head back. Her lips were soft and trembling beneath mine, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she melted into me, her fingers clutching the front of my shirt like I was the only solid thing in her world.

And maybe, just fucking maybe, I was.

The kiss deepened, my mouth claiming hers like I’d been starving for it, for her. I tasted the salt of her tears and the faint sweetness of her breath, and it only made me crave more. Her hands slid up, gripping my shoulders as if holding on to me was the only thing keeping her upright.

I pulled back just enough to look at her, our breaths mingling in the small space between us. Her eyes searched mine, her lips swollen from the kiss. Her face was a mixture of confusion and something else—something that made my chest tighten even more.

“You’re safe.” I was sure I’d said that a hundred fucking times already, but I wouldn’t stop reassuring her. It was a promise and a vow all in one. “I’ve got you,Pchelka. No one’s ever going to hurt you again.”

And before she could respond, before I could let the memories of her pain creep back in, I kissed her again, softer this time but no less consuming.

When I let go of her, her gaze flickered over my shoulder. I followed the object of her guarded scrutiny to find her brother with his shoulders sagged and a forlorn look in his eyes as he looked at us with a reluctant resolve.

Personally, I didn’t give a shit if he accepted the reality that stared at him in the face, but the small smile on Serena’s lips and the tears that filled her eyes were proof that she did.

She cared that her brother accepted me.

Chapter 21 – Serena

I sauntered almost aimlessly around the house, going nowhere but enjoying the feel of everywhere at the same time. With one hand placed protectively over my small baby bump, I stretched the other one out to caress a monochrome painting hanging up on the wall. The artwork depicted a serene but dark landscape, a withering tree at its center with gnarled branches stretched toward the sky, its dead leaves shimmering in coated black and silver. Surrounding the tree, rolling hills met a horizon of silver moonlight. It was sad and beautiful but looked out of place in the midst of nothing else but a vast, empty wall. And being drawn to the masterpiece, there was an instant connection.

Years ago, I never would have thought I’d be the girl with the complicated life story, where her own brother would kidnap her to save her, or where she’d be married to one of the leaders of the Russian mob and be expecting his child. Undoubtedly, it was still a hard truth to digest, but even as I moved past the painting and wandered down the hallway, I knew I’d come to terms with my current reality. And the scarier part was that I didn’t want to change it.

Even if it meant having to patiently wait, possibly for eternity, until my husband and brother formed a respectable and cordial relationship. Enzo Colombo was still being held captive God-knows-where. Timur vehemently refused to tell me, claiming he didn’t want to have me worried about unimportant things that did not concern me when, in truth, I knew he withheld that information to stop me from snooping around. But my brother….

Since the showdown, I hadn’t seen him, and all Timur offered were assurances that he wasn’t hurt. Not that he wasfine; he just wasn’t…hurt.

I’d seen the look in his eyes when he walked past Jay. He wanted to kill him but restrained himself because of me. But I was one hundred percent certain that if I wasn’t in that room, and Timur was given even the slightest chance to teach my brother a lesson, he would have made the best use of the time as he always did.

I was glad he didn’t

Testing each door I passed while heading deeper into the long-stretched, none of the door handles budged under my grasp except one. Pausing, I held my breath and tried again. The tall wooden frame creaked under its weight while it slowly swung open. I poked my head through the gap. Everything about its lavender walls, dusty sheets, and antique furniture said I shouldn’t come in.

But I wanted to, and so I did.

Shutting the door behind me, I ambled closer to the old dresser in the corner of the room, carefully raising the dusty cloth above it to peek underneath. It had drawers, and when I grasped one of them, the handle gave way, falling to the ground with a lowthunk.

---