Page 45 of Vendetta Crown

AURORA

The moonlight filtersthrough the curtains, painting silver stripes across our bedroom. Ruslan's hand rests on my belly, protective and gentle.

The knowledge of our child growing inside me makes his touch feel different somehow.

"You're still awake." His voice rumbles through the darkness, low and intimate.

"Can't sleep." I place my hand over his. "Too much excitement."

His lips press against my temple. "The girls were happy."

I can't help but smile, thinking of their reactions. Stella jumping around the room, already declaring herself the baby's favorite cousin. Sofia asking a thousand questions about when she could hold the baby. And Mikayla's quiet smile told us everything she was thinking.

We lie in comfortable silence for a moment. Slowly, my mind drifts to the documentary. So much hinges on it. Our future. Our safety.

"I can't stop thinking about the script." I prop myself up on my elbow. "The dramatization."

Ruslan shifts beside me. "You're worried about casting, aren't you?"

"Shouldn't I be? I have to cast someone to play my mother." My throat tightens. "My father. My brother. Even Kristofer. People who look enough like them that viewers believe it, but..."

"But not so much that it hurts you to see them." He completes my thought perfectly.

"And I'll have to direct them." The heaviness of it all presses down on me. "I'll have to tell someone exactly how my family moved, talked, and laughed."

My voice breaks.

"Zarechka." His finger tips my chin up. "You don't have to do this alone."

"But I do." I swallow hard. "Nobody else knows them. Nobody else remembers."

"We can have someone interview you. Someone who can see traces of your mother's movements in your hands, your father's laugh in your voice, and even your little brother's attitude from how you behave."

His hands frame my face, thumbs wiping away tears I didn't realize were falling.

"Your familywillget justice. I promise."

My hands tremble as I look into Ruslan's eyes. The weight of his offer—to help me capture my family's essence—leaves me speechless for a moment.

When I finally find my voice, it's barely above a whisper.

"When that photographer was taking pictures today, it felt like I was staring at a gun." I bring his palm against my chest where my heart is pounding erratically. "Each click of the shutters sounded like someone pulling a trigger."

Ruslan's other arm tightens around me, and pulls me closer to his warmth.

"For seven years, I dreamed about being on camera. About standing under those lights and being seen." The irony cuts deep. "Now that opportunity is finally here, and I've never been more terrified."

My fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt. Part of me still can't believe I'm carrying our child while facing this nightmare from my past.

"But then I saw you." My voice catches. "Every time I felt like running, I found your eyes. And when I saw you, I knew that no matter how far I fell, you would always be there to catch me. Even if you don't believe that for yourself."

I reach up to touch his face, feeling the rough stubble under my fingertips.

"You're my anchor to reality when everything else feels like it's spinning out of control."

His eyes soften, golden in the dim light. I see something there—vulnerability mixed with determination.

"Thank you for being there today. For not looking away." I lean forward, "For seeing all of me—the bruises, the fear, everything—and still being here."

---