Page 43 of Vendetta Crown

The bratva and fatherhood seem incompatible.

One demands cruelty, and the other tenderness.

But now, as I picture Aurora with our baby, something breaks open inside me. I want this. I want her carrying my child. I want to shield them both from every danger this world contains.

And that's when the fear crashes over me.

What kind of father would I be? A pakhan who demands obedience? A man who couldn't protect the woman he loved from a monster who stalked her across the country? Or something different entirely?

My fingers clench into fists. If she's pregnant, every threat becomes magnified. Semyon. Tamara. Kristofer. They wouldn't just be coming for Aurora or me.

They'd be coming for our child too.

I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. The fear is choking me, but beneath it lies something else. Something deeper. Something that makes me want to tear down mountains and drain oceans if that's what it takes to keep her safe.

It's not just concern or duty or obligation driving these feelings.

It's love.

Pure, devastating love that I've been afraid to name until this moment. I love her in a way I never thought possible after Leslie. I love her strength, her resilience, her fierce determination. I love how she faced down Potyomkin and won. I love how she comforted Mikayla when I couldn't.

I love her, and it terrifies me more than any gun pointed at my head ever could.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, pulling me from the tornado of thoughts about fatherhood. Turning, I find Vera with her knowing gaze fixed on me.

"I recognize that look on your face," she says softly. "My Slava had the same expression when I told him I was pregnant."

"Did he?"

She nods, her delicate fingers still resting on my shoulder. "First shock, then panic, then that look in your eyes. Like you're mentally building fortresses."

"Will I be a good father?" The question escapes before I can stop it. It sounds childish coming from the pakhan of the Dragunov bratva, but in this moment, I'm just a man terrified of repeating history.

Vera considers me, her eyes kind but not pitying. "I don't know you well enough to answer that. But the fact you're even asking the question." She smiles gently. "That's a good sign. Poor fathers rarely ask that."

"There are so many things I need to prepare," I mutter, my mind already racing. "Security protocols, a better doctor than a bratva medic, maybe a full OBGYN suite, books about how to raise kids, a nursery?—"

"Ruslan," Vera interrupts with surprising firmness. "Breathe. She needs your presence more than she needs your preparations."

I notice Vera's hand trembling slightly against my shoulder.

That's when I realize. This must be difficult for her as well. Forced to be far away from her own husband while carrying his child.

"You miss him."

Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, but her voice remains steady. "Every moment. But I know what's at stake. For all of us."

Despite everything she's enduring, she's here comforting me. I cover her hand with mine, a silent acknowledgment of her sacrifice.

"Thank you," I tell her, meaning it more than she could know.

She nods, understanding passing between us as we wait.

A moment later, the sound of footsteps causes me to look up.

Aurora approaches with Hannah, their fingers intertwined in silent support. My eyes fix on Aurora's face, searching for any clue before she speaks.

She looks up at me, those hazel eyes wide and luminous. Her lips tremble slightly, then curve into a tentative smile.

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