Page 48 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

Part of me wants to disappear. Buy a ticket to anywhere, change my name, leave this world behind. But I’m not naive. Vasiliy has the reach to find me no matter where I run. The Volkovs don’t let things go.

And I’m not even sure Iwantto go.

Not yet.

Not when a part of me—some fragile, reckless part—still wants to believe there’s a way to make this work.

I slip into the alley beside the club and let my knees buckle, pressing my spine against the cold brick. For a second, I’m just a woman in the dark, not a daughter, lover or a future mother. Just me.

Tears slip down my cheeks. I let them. I’m too tired to hold it all in.

Because this child deserves better.

Better than a legacy soaked in blood. Better than a father who sees people as assets. Better than a mother who only just learned how to fight for herself.

I look down at my stomach, resting a hand against the place where everything has already changed.

“I’ll give you more,” I whisper. “I swear to God, I’ll give you a life.”

But first, I have to figure out what to do with the man who already owns too much of mine.

And whether he deserves to know he’s about to become a father.

I reach into my coat pocket and pull out my phone, my fingers trembling. I’ve been keeping my weekly appointments with Mila, but never once have I told her anything that mattered. Not the real things. Not the things that could get me killed. But now, with my stomach twisted in knots and my thoughts spiraling into chaos, I need someone. Anyone. Not a friend. Not family. Someone removed from it all. Someone safe.

I stare down at her name on the screen for a long moment before I hit call.

“Mila?” My voice cracks the moment she picks up. “It’s Galina. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Calling after hours?” she says, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“No.” I swallow hard. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t—” My voice gives out. “I’m not okay.”

“Galina,” she says, gently. “Take a breath. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I exhale shakily, running a hand through my damp hair. How do I explain this? How do I unravel the mess of secrets and want and fear? There’s no way to untangle it without confessing everything.

So I don’t try. I just whisper, “Everything.”

“Everything,” she echoes, her voice calm and steady. “Well, I can’t promise to fix everything. But I’m here. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out, the words ripped from somewhere raw and hidden.

Silence.

Then, softly: “Are you sure? Did you take a test?”

I nod, even though she can’t see it. “Yes. I’m sure.” Shame floods my chest, heavy and familiar. “I’m sorry, I?—”

“Don’t apologize.” Her voice turns sharp, cutting through my spiral. “Galina, listen to me. You’re allowed to be scared. You’re allowed to reach out. I’m here for that. I’m here for you.”

My lip trembles. “It’s just...everything’s happening so fast. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Is it Vasiliy’s?” she asks.

The name is like a trigger; my heart lurches. I press my hand to my stomach, the small swell of future wrapped in flesh. “Who else would it be?”

Mila pauses, and then her voice shifts.

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