Page 103 of Beautiful Agony

Vadim's hand covers mine on my belly. "Larina Stravinsky."

"It's perfect," I whisper, my heart full. "Larina."

The name feels right on my tongue, carrying the weight of both love and loss, hope and memory.

Vadim's hand is warm against my belly, and I can't help but lean into his touch.

"Zvyozdochka," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Our little star is going to shine so bright."

"I can already picture her," I say, letting myself imagine our daughter. "With your eyes."

"And your smile," he adds softly. "Your kindness."

I cover his hand with mine, feeling the slight flutter of movement beneath. "She's going to be fierce and beautiful. Just like both of her namesakes."

"She'll be perfect," Vadim says, his voice thick with emotion. "Because she's ours."

The rain continues its gentle patter against the window, but in here, wrapped in Vadim's arms with his hand protectively spread across my belly, I feel nothing but warmth. Slowly, the fear begins to recede, replaced by anticipation.

"I can't wait to meet her," I whisper, picturing tiny fingers and toes, imagining the weight of her in my arms. "To see who she becomes."

"To watch her grow," Vadim agrees. His thumb traces gentle circles on my belly. "To protect her. To love her."

Suddenly, I gasp, my hand flying to my belly.

"Zvyozdochka? What's wrong?" Vadim's voice is tight with concern.

"I..." My voice trembles with wonder. "I just felt her kick. For the first time."

Taking his hand in mine, I guide it to the spot where I felt the flutter. "Wait," I whisper. "Just wait."

We hold our breath, his palm warm against my skin through the thin fabric of my dress. For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of rain against the window and our quiet breathing.

Then—there it is again. That tiny flutter, like butterfly wings beneath my skin.

Vadim's breath catches. His eyes go wide, and I watch as a storm of emotions crosses his face. Wonder. Joy. Love. Fear. All of them tangled together in a way that makes my heart ache.

"Privyet, Larina," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "Hello,dorogaya."

He bends down, and places a reverent kiss to my belly, right where we felt her move. His hand stays splayed protectively over the spot, as if trying to memorize the feeling of her first kicks.

I watch as Vadim continue whispering softly to my belly, his hand spread protectively over where we just felt Larina kick.

I watch in marvel at the way his eyes are filled with raw emotion.

This fearsome pakhan who commands an army of killers—who makes hardened criminals tremble in fear—completely undone by the tiniest flutter of movement from our daughter.

Another kick, and his breath catches. The sound draws tears to my eyes. In this moment, seeing him so vulnerable and full of wonder, I know with absolute certainty that I would burn the world down to protect what we have.

Yes, Kirsan is still out there. Yes, Rutledge made his intentions clear. The doubt and fear still gnaw at the edges of my mind. But with each reverent kiss Vadim presses to my belly, steel resolve builds within me.

Let them come.

Let them try to tear apart what we've built. They don't understand what they're up against.

Vadim looks up at me, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and I see the same fierce determination reflected there.

We created this precious life together.

---