Page 110 of Imperfect Desires

“You saved me, too.”

“And Lev?” I say, wanting him to look at me, to see the truth in what I am about to say. “I am privileged to be the one to carry your bloodline forward. It is the bloodline of a warrior, a survivor, and of honor.”

“There is nothing honorable about me or where I am coming from.” He tries to scoff it off.

“Perhaps not from where you hail, but you have undoubtedly created a life of honor in the bratva. What others received due to their birthright, you fought for and earned with your blood and sweat. I am proud to carry a part of you.”

The silence between us is heavy now, but it’s not weighed down by pain. It’s filled with the weight of truth. Of survival. Of us.

“I can see her,” he says softly. “When I close my eyes, I see her. A little girl with your eyes and a mind of her own.”

I smile, tears slipping down my cheek.

“She’s going to be stubborn,” I say.

“She’s going to be protected,” he replies, eyes glinting with something fierce.

He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine again like he did in the clinic. “I swear to you,” he murmurs, “I will never walk away again.”

And this time, I believe him. With everything in me, I believe him.

The car is still, but it feels like we’re moving—like we’ve stepped over some invisible line between before and after. I feel it in the quiet. In the way Lev breathes, it's like the weight on his chest has shifted. His thumb grazes the back of my hand slowly, like he’s memorizing me through touch. Like he can’t quite believe I’m still here.

“I never told you the whole story,” he says, barely audible.

I glance up at him. He’s not asking for permission—he’s finally ready.

“I was fourteen when I started running drugs for Mendes,” he says, voice distant, like he’s watching a movie play in the back of his mind. “I was starving. Sleeping in alleys. I didn’t have anyone. No one gave a shit if I lived or died.”

I feel my heart begin to crack. I want to reach out, to stop him, to hold the boy he used to be. But I let him speak.

“He used me like a damn mule. And when one deal went south—ten thousand dollars gone, a package I never even touched—he beat me until I couldn’t see straight. And then he put a gun to my head.”

My breath stutters.

Lev’s jaw flexes, but his voice stays low. Measured.

“He would’ve pulled the trigger if Viktor hadn’t shown up. Paid the debt. Took me in. No one had ever fought for me before.”

I squeeze his hand. He squeezes back.

“That’s why I was loyal to him,” Lev continues. “That’s why I’d die for him. But it also made me believe I didn’t deserve more than that. That loyalty was the best thing I could offer anyone.”

He turns toward me fully now, and the rawness in his eyes leaves me breathless.

“And then you came along,” he murmurs. “With those eyes that see everything. That heart that never hardens, no matter what the world throws at it.”

My throat tightens.

“You didn’t just make me feel seen, Alina. You made me want things. Soft things. Future things.”

A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it.

“And I panicked,” he whispers. “Because I didn’t know how to be worthy of that. Of you.”

I lift our joined hands and press them to my lips.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” I whisper against his skin. “You just have to stay.”

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