Page 78 of Tattooed Heart

Mikhail has his father's strong jaw and determined chin, but he inherited my softer features, the curve of his nose, and the shape of his lips. When he smiles, he often lights up the entire room.

Dimitri kisses my temple without saying a word, and I breathe in his familiar scent. His lips linger against my skin, and I feel him smile when Mikhail gurgles contentedly between us.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask softly, adjusting the baby's tiny cap to shield his face from the dappled sunlight.

“How different everything looks from this side,” he replies, his voice low enough that only I can hear. “How much brighter.”

I understand. The Avilov estate has always been impressive, but seeing it through the lens of our own family gives it an entirely different meaning.

Across the courtyard, Maxim runs by in a tuxedo T-shirt and grass-stained knees, sword-fighting an invisible enemy with a stick. His dark hair is mussed from playing, but his smile is wide and carefree. At ten years old, he is growing into himself. He isstill the serious, protective boy we know, but with more laughter in his eyes these days. Sasha trails behind, holding her lace skirt with one hand and waving a wand with the other, trying to turn her brother into a frog. Her golden curls bounce with each determined wave of her makeshift wand, and her green eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Ribbit!” Maxim plays along, hopping dramatically before collapsing onto the grass in giggles. Sasha squeals with delight, declaring her magic successful.

They are safe. Happy and thriving.

“Aunt Sandy!” Sasha runs over to us, slightly out of breath and beaming. “Look what Papa gave me!”

She holds up a small wooden sword, beautifully crafted and sized perfectly for her small hands. “It's for when I'm a knight!”

Dimitri chuckles, a sound that still surprises me with its warmth. “And what will you do as a knight,printsessa?”

“Protect everyone!” she declares with absolute certainty. “Just like you and Papa!”

The simple declaration hits me square in the chest. In her innocent way, Sasha has perfectly captured what our men do. Not just the violence, or the power games, but the protection and the willingness to stand between their families and harm, no matter the cost.

“That's a very important job,” I tell her seriously. “The best knights are brave, smart, and kind.”

She nods sagely, then notices Mikhail in my arms. “Can I touch his hand?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Sasha approaches carefully, extending one finger to brush against Mikhail's tiny palm. Our son's fist immediately closes around her finger, and her face transforms with wonder.

“He's so strong!” she whispers.

“All Avilov and Popov children are strong,” Dimitri states, playfully squeezing her arm muscle.

“Malyshka,” Dimitri murmurs, his lips close to my ear, “You're quiet.”

“I'm just watching.” I look at him, meeting those coffee-colored eyes that have become my anchor through everything. “So much has happened. Sometimes it still doesn't feel real.”

And it’s true. Sometimes, I have to actively remind myself that this isn’t a dream I'll wake up from. That the man beside me is my husband, that the baby in my arms is our son, and that the threats hanging over us have been eliminated one by one until peace was possible.

The journey to this moment was written in blood and tears. The fear of losing Talia to Vic or Danny, the agony of Dimitri's imprisonment, and the final confrontation with Morozov left permanent scars on my neck and deeper ones on my soul. Each challenge had felt insurmountable, but here we are, surviving and thriving.

Dimitri glances around at the estate, the party, and the people who fill the long tables, never realizing how much blood it took to create this type of peace. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, and I know he is remembering the same thingsI am. The late-night meetings, the difficult decisions, the prices paid to secure this tranquility.

“It's real,” he says, then looks down at our son. His expression softens completely, and that transformation still takes my breath away. “This is ours. No one takes it from us.”

The quiet steel in his voice is absolute. This isn’t hope or a wish. It is a declaration. A promise. And knowing Dimitri as I do, knowing what he is capable of, I believe him completely.

I reach for his hand, threading our fingers together. “Do you remember what you told me the first night we spent together?” I ask quietly, careful not to wake Mikhail.

Dimitri's thumb traces across my knuckles. “Which part? I said many things that night.”

I smile, feeling heat climb my cheeks despite everything we've been through together. “You said you'd never let anyone hurt me.”

“I meant it.”

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