Page 39 of Knocked Up by the Bratva

For a split second, Timur doesn’t move. Then, faster than I can react, he reaches into his jacket, and my heart nearly stops. He pulls out a gun, the metal gleaming in the dim light. Before I can process what’s happening, the barrel is pressed firmly against my abdomen.

Terror floods through me, my hands instinctively moving to cover my stomach, as if that could protect me. “No… please,” I beg, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “Please, don’t kill me.”

His grip tightens on the gun, and I can feel the hard edge of the barrel digging into my skin through my clothes. I’m shaking now, my body trembling uncontrollably. I squeeze my eyes shut, praying this isn’t happening.

“You think I want to kill you?” His voice drips with venom, the anger in his words unmistakable. “After everything, you think that’s what I want?”

I flinch at his tone, unable to stop the tears from slipping down my cheeks. “I-I don’t know what you want,” I stammer, my voice barely a whisper. “You’re scaring me.”

“Good.” Timur’s voice is sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “You should be scared, Jennifer. You betrayed me.”

With a sudden, rough jerk, Timur grabs me by the arm and pulls me forward. I stumble as he forces me down the hallway, my legs weak beneath me. His men follow behind us, silent shadows that make the walls seem to close in even more. My heart pounds with each step, dread filling every corner of my mind.

Timur stops, turning to face me, his eyes blazing. “Do you even understand what you did?” His voice rises, the rage he’sbeen holding back finally slipping out. “Do you have any idea how much I cared about you?”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. He cared about me? I stare at him, stunned, trying to make sense of what he just said. Did he mean to say that? It doesn’t sound like something Timur would admit, certainly not like this. His eyes are wild, and he’s not the same composed, intimidating man I once knew.

“I…,” I start, but the words die in my throat. What can I say? My mind is reeling, trying to grasp the meaning behind his outburst, but I can’t. It doesn’t make sense. None of this does.

Timur shoves me against the wall again, harder this time, his breath hot against my face as he towers over me. “You thought you could just leave? Disappear and never face me again?” His voice is seething with fury, but underneath that rage, there’s something else. Something raw. “You were wrong.”

I open my mouth to speak, to say something—anything that might calm him down—but my thoughts are jumbled, my fear too overwhelming. All I can do is shake my head, tears spilling down my face.

Before I can even begin to respond, the sharp sound of a cry pierces the tense silence. My blood runs cold.

Timur’s expression shifts, confusion flashing across his face as he glances toward the sound. “What’s that?” he asks, his tone suddenly laced with suspicion. His eyes narrow, and he turns his head toward the room where Tyler sleeps.

Panic shoots through me like lightning. I step forward, trying to block his view, but Timur’s gaze locks on to the door. He looks back at me, his eyes dark with realization.

“Jennifer,” he says slowly, his voice taking on an icy edge. “Who is that?”

I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. There’s no escape now. He’s about to find out everything.

Chapter Eighteen - Timur

I press the barrel of the gun harder against Jennifer’s abdomen, watching as her face contorts in terror. There’s something intoxicating about the way fear courses through her. The way her body trembles beneath my grip, the helplessness in her eyes—it’s power. Control. I like breaking her, watching her spirit shatter under my hand.

She’s mine. She always has been, and I won’t let her forget it.

Her lips quiver as she tries to form words, but before she can speak, the sharp sound of a cry fills the air. My grip on her falters as the noise cuts through the tension. A baby’s cry.

Jennifer’s eyes widen in panic, and for the first time, I see a different kind of fear flash across her face. “Please… leave us alone,” she begs, her voice desperate. Her hands move toward me, but my men grab her, pulling her back before she can stop me.

Ignoring her pleas, I turn toward the source of the cry, my curiosity piqued. There’s something in her voice, a crack in her defiance, that tells me whatever’s in that room is important—something she’s been hiding from me. My jaw clenches as I stride toward the door.

“Timur, no!” she screams, struggling in their grasp, her voice breaking. “Please, don’t go in there!”

My men hold her tighter, their eyes trained on me for orders. I don’t need to give any. I know they’ll keep her in place. She’s not going anywhere.

I push the door open, and my eyes land on a crib in the corner. The crying stops almost immediately as I approach. It’s a baby boy, no more than nine months old. He stares up at me with blue eyes the same shade of mine. He has Jennifer’s messy hair, her petite nose. The sight of him makes something twist inside my chest, a feeling I don’t recognize.

The baby’s tiny fists grip the edge of the blanket as he watches me. There’s no more crying, just the quiet, innocent gaze of a child who knows nothing of the world he’s been born into. For some reason, the sight tugs at something deep within me—a part of myself I didn’t even know existed.

I take a step closer, my gaze fixed on the boy. He’s… quiet now, completely still, as though my presence calms him. The soft rise and fall of his chest, the way he watches me with those big eyes—it stirs something I haven’t felt in years. Something dangerously close to affection.

Turning slowly, I look back at Jennifer, who’s standing frozen in the doorway, held back by my men. Her face is pale, tears streaking down her cheeks. She knows what I’m thinking. She knows the question that’s about to leave my lips.

“Whose child is this?” My voice is cold, but inside, a storm is brewing. There’s only one answer that makes sense, but I need to hear it from her. I need her to admit it.

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