Page 44 of The Bratva's Knocked-Up Bride

“We’re here to get you out. You’re safe now.”

She bursts into tears, a mix of relief and fear spilling over. My heart swells, knowing that I’m doing this for Gwen. Wemanage to get her on her feet, and just as we do, a shout rings out from behind us. I whirl around, instincts kicking in as I see more Vultures pouring into the room, anger and desperation painted on their faces.

“Get her out of here!” I shout to Boris, who nods and takes the girl’s arm, leading her toward the exit. I stay behind, ready to cover them, adrenaline still pumping through my veins.

As the fight intensifies, I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, matching the chaos around me. The Vultures aren’t going down without a fight, but neither are we. We take down as many as we can with our weapons, running out of bullets and switching to hand-to-hand, but just as we think we’re making progress, one of the bastards lands a blow to my side and then another to my cheekbone. I wince but shake it off, not letting it distract me from the goal, before I knock him hard in the side of the head, his body collapsing to the floor.

With Boris leading the girl out of the building, I know we can’t stay here much longer. As the last of the Vultures falls to the ground, I finally turn to leave, adrenaline still coursing through me. We’ve done what we set out to do, and now it’s time to regroup and get the hell out.

Once outside, I spot Boris and the girl leaning against a car, catching their breath. Relief washes over me, knowing they made it out. With Victor at my side, we walk towards them, and Riley unexpectedly crashes into me.

“Thank you,” She cries, her body trembling violently against mine as she looks up at me. There are a few light bruises on her face, her wrists are red and swollen, and she looks paler and thinner than when I last saw her, but for the most part, she’s practically untouched.

“Let’s go,” I tell Victor, and he nods, opening the back door for the girl.

Once I’m in the car, Victor is already behind the wheel, and we speed off, leaving the chaos of the ambush behind us. The city lights blur past, but I can only think about Gwen. I can’t wait to bring Riley back to her, to fulfill the promises I made since the night I brought her unconscious body home, and when I watched her sign those documents the following morning.

As we pull up to the house, I can’t help but think of her reaction when she sees me. I’m a little bruised up, so I know she’ll be furious, and I don’t blame her. But the look on her face when we walked into that room, the sheer relief, is worth every pain I’m feeling right now.

We step out of the car, and I hear Anya’s voice from inside, a soft laugh that makes my heart swell. As we make our way inside, I glimpse Gwen’s familiar silhouette, and my heart skips a beat.

I take a deep breath, pushing the pain aside, but as soon as she sees me, her face pales. I can already see the horror in her eyes as she takes in the bits of blood on my shirt, the pain behind my smile.

“Roman!” she cries out, rushing toward me. I don’t even have time to brace myself before she’s at my side, hands gripping my arm, her eyes searching mine.

“I’m fine,” I say, forcing a reassuring smile. But the truth is, my vision’s a little spotty from getting punched in the head.

Her eyes narrow, disbelief washing over her. “You’re not fine! You’re hurt!”

“It’s nothing,” I try to say, but she’s already in full nurse mode, her fingers brushing against my side, and I can’t help but relish the attention.

“Nothing?” she hisses, her voice tinged with anger and fear. “You’re bleeding, Roman!”

I can’t help but chuckle, even though it hurts. “It’s not mine,Moya Lyubov.”

She stills, but then her eye catches something behind me, and her eyes widen as if she saw a ghost. “Riley!” She shouts, pulling away from me. I turn around just in time to watch the two women collide so forcefully that they fall to their knees in a marriage of wails. Anya joins me at my side as we watch the women’s reunion.

“Need me to take a look at anything?” She asks with a sisterly concern edging her tone.

“I’ll be okay,” I shrug her off. At the most, I might have a concussion, but I doubt it. Other than that, I only have a few bruises and surface-level scratches that don’t demand any special attention. “Thank you for keeping an eye on her for me,” I add.

“Of course,” Anya says, squeezing my arm and kissing my bicep. “Thank you for coming back alive.”

I look down at her and smile.

A second later, Gwen returns, and I’m winded when she crashes into me in a tight hug. “Easy,” I say. I intend to tease her about it, but it has the opposite effect when she pulls away and starts looking about my body with worry glistening in her grassy orbs.

I want to argue and tell her it’s unnecessary, but watching her concern makes me realize how much she cares.

“Hey,” I say, reaching out to cup her cheek with my palm, forcing her gaze to mine. “I’m okay. We got Riley back. That’s all that matters.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath. She stands on her tiptoes to press a sweet kiss against my lips.

I smile, but it quickly fades as she pulls away and returns to her perusal of my body, examining the cut on my side. “You’re going to need stitches,” she declares, and I can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the thought of her taking care of me.

“Yeah, probably,” I admit, and the tension in the air thickens as I realize how much I want her by my side through this. She’s my wife, and I have no intention of letting her go. Ever.

Gwen's fingers are gentle yet urgent as she assesses the damage, her brows furrowing in concentration. The world around us fades into a blur; all I can focus on is her, the way her eyes dance with a mix of fear and determination.

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