Page 49 of Plus-Size Bratva Bride

The pink lines blurred as more tears welled in my eyes. I blinked them away, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts at once. Abe's face flashed before me—his sharp jawline, those piercing blue-gray eyes that could melt me with a glance. But now, they seemed to hold an accusation I couldn't shake.

"What have we done?" I whispered to the empty bathroom.

Thissituationshipwe shared was still so new, so fragile. We'd only just started to peel back the layers of our pasts, to truly see each other. We had never discussed a relationship or love. I didn’t even know if he wanted a baby. And now this. A baby. The word felt foreign, terrifying.

I hauled myself up from the cold tile, catching my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were wide with shock, my light brown curls a mess.

"Get it together, Pippa," I muttered, wiping away my tears and standing straighter.

But the facade crumbled as quickly as I'd tried to erect it. How would Abe react? He was 45, set in his ways, with a life entrenched in the Bratva. Did he even want children? The thought of his rejection sent a chill through me.

I made my way to my bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. My hand unconsciously drifted to my stomach again. "What am I going to do with you, little one?" I whispered.

The silence of the room pressed in on me. I reached for my phone, my finger hovering over Abe's name. One call and everything would change. But I couldn't do it. Not yet. I needed time to process, to plan. I needed to figure out if he even wanted a future with me. For all I knew, he might not want anything more. He might remain with me while he protected me, before moving on to his next mission.

I put down my phone and the future stretched out before me, filled with uncertainty. But as I sat there, a tiny part of me—the part I was trying desperately to ignore—whispered of possibility. Of a future I'd never dared to imagine.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and made a silent promise to the life growing inside me. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together and you’ll always have me.”

Chapter 18 - Abe

I slammed my fist on the mahogany table, the sharp crack echoing through the dimly lit room. My brothers, Ivan and Vlad, didn't flinch. They were used to my outbursts by now.

"We've been chasing the wrong fucking tails for months," I growled, running a hand through my dark hair. "All this time, we thought it was the Petrovs muscling in on our territory, but it's been these new Italian upstarts?"

Ivan leaned back in his chair, his face a mask of calm. "It seems that way, Abe. Our intel was… flawed."

I snorted. "Flawed? That's putting it mildly, Brother. We've wasted time, resources, and blood on the wrong fucking crew."

Vlad raised his hands. "What's done is done. This new mob thought there was no better way to put their names on everyone’s radar than by coming after what belongs to the Vadims. The question is, what do we do now?"

I paced the room, my mind racing. The implications of this new information were staggering. A new Italian mob group, the Amatos. as they called themselves, operating right under our noses, bold enough to encroach on Vadim territory. It was a slap in the face of the Vadims, and by extension, The Unholy Trinity.

"We send a message," I said, my voice low and deadly. "A crystal-clear fucking message that no one, Italian, Russian, or otherwise, crosses the Vadims without consequences."

What I didn’t say was that after we’re done, they’d never dare mutter Pippa’s name behind closed doors. They’re the reason she was stabbed, the reason her life has had to come to a standstill and that stops now.

I could feel the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins, the thrill of the hunt awakening. This is what I lived for—the chance to prove why I was the muscle of the Unholy Trinity, why I always came out on top in any fight.

"These fuckers think they can waltz into our city, take what's ours?" I turned to face my brothers, a wolfish grin spreading across my face. "We'll show them exactly why that's a fatal mistake."

***

I leaned over the map spread across the mahogany table, my tattooed fingers tracing potential routes. "We hit them here," I said, tapping a warehouse near the docks. "Our intel suggests it's their main distribution center."

Ivan nodded, his analytical mind already churning. "We'll need to cut off their escape routes. I can have our tech team disable the security systems."

"Good," I growled, feeling the familiar rush of pre-battle excitement. "Vlad, I want you to position snipers here and here." I indicated two nearby rooftops. "We'll funnel them right into our trap."

The tension in the room was palpable, crackling like electricity. I thrived on it, my confidence growing with each passing moment.

"Remember," I said, my voice carrying the weight of command, "we're not just taking them down. We're sending a message. Make it bloody, make it brutal. Make sure they never cross us again."

As night fell, we moved into position. The warehouse loomed before us, a hulking shadow against the starless sky. I adjusted my earpiece, checked for the Glock against my hip.

"Now," Ivan directed through the network.

All hell broke loose. The night erupted in a cacophony of gunfire and shattering glass. I charged forward, my brothers at my sides, our men flooding in behind us.

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