Page 71 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

The mansion is quiet, the kind of silence that amplifies every thought swirling in my head. I sit in my study, a tumbler of whiskey in hand, staring at the faint swirl of amber liquid. The fire crackles softly in the hearth, but it does nothing to warm the chill that’s settled deep inside me.

Hannah’s decision to keep the baby has left me reeling. I told myself that supporting her was the right thing to do, the logical choice. Logic has nothing to do with the way I feel.

I want the baby too.

The admission feels dangerous, even now, as it echoes in the confines of my mind. I’ve spent years convincing myself that attachment is a liability, that caring for anyone or anything is a weakness I can’t afford. And yet, here I am, caught between the fierce determination in her eyes and the fragile hope growing inside her.

Every time I see her, my resolve cracks a little more. The way she cradles her stomach, protective and tender, like she’s already bonded with the child we created together. The way she holds her head high, defiant and strong, even as the pregnancy drains her energy.

I down the rest of the whiskey in one go, the burn a small reprieve from the ache gnawing at my chest.

***

Later that evening, I find myself standing at the doorway to her room. The door is partially open, and the faint glow of a bedside lamp spills out into the hall. I push it open quietly, stepping inside.

She’s asleep, curled up on her side, her hands resting on her belly. Her face is peaceful, the lines of tension and exhaustion smoothed away by sleep. For a moment, I just stand there, watching her, my chest tightening with an unfamiliar ache.

I sit down in the chair beside her bed, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. My eyes trace the curve of her cheek, the faint rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathes.

“You don’t make this easy,” I murmur softly, my voice barely audible.

The words spill out before I can stop them, a quiet confession to the sleeping woman before me. “I don’t know how to do this,” I admit, my gaze fixed on her. “I don’t know how to protect you and the baby without losing myself in the process.”

My hand rests on the edge of the bed, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her. “I will,” I whisper, the words as much a promise to myself as they are to her. “I will protect you… both of you.”

***

The next day, I put my plan into action.

First, I double the security detail at the mansion. Guards are stationed at every entry point, and two are assigned to shadow Hannah’s movements whenever she leaves her room. Andrei doesn’t question me when I issue the orders, though I can see the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

Next, I contact our most trusted doctor—a private physician with experience handling high-risk pregnancies. He’ll be on call 24/7, ready to intervene at the slightest sign of trouble.

Finally, I arrange for the nursery. It’s premature, but I can’t shake the feeling that preparing for the baby will solidify this choice in a way nothing else can.

That evening, I find her in the living room, curled up on the couch with a book in hand. Her hair is loose, tumbling over her shoulders in soft waves, and there’s a faint flush in her cheeks that makes her look almost radiant.

She glances up as I approach, her expression wary but curious.

“Busy day?” she asks, her voice light but tinged with suspicion.

“Productive,” I reply, sitting down in the chair across from her.

Her eyes narrow slightly, and I can tell she’s trying to read me. “What did you do?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” I say smoothly, though the corner of my mouth lifts in a faint smile.

She huffs, clearly unsatisfied with the answer, but she doesn’t press further. Instead, she closes her book, setting it aside as her gaze shifts to her belly.

“You’re staring again,” she teases, echoing her words from the night before.

“Can you blame me?” I reply, the same answer I gave her then.

This time, there’s no teasing in my tone.

The sight of her—strong, determined, and carrying our child—softens something in me that I didn’t even know existed. I want her safe. I want her happy. And for the first time in my life, I realize that I want something more than power or control.

I wantthem.

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