Page 126 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

But Gennady’s words linger in the air.I don’t think you know what you are.

What a ridiculous thing to say. Of course I know. I’m what I was always meant to be: don of the Romanoff Bratva. Unquestioned. Unchallenged. Untouchable.

Ilyasov tried to topple me, and look what happened? I have his wife in chains. The Albanians are dead or dying. The D’Onofrio clan has had its head chopped off.

And who’s standing tall amidst all that bloodshed? Me. Dima Romanoff. The true heir to my father’s legacy.

This is all I need. Not Arya, not Ilyasov—and if he’s so uncertain about the path I’m taking, then I don’t need Gennady, either. All I’ve ever asked for is undying loyalty. Anyone who doesn’t give me that is extra baggage.

The door opens again. I expect Gennady to come out and guilt trip me again.She’s in distressorIt’s not good for heror some other such bullshit.

But instead, he runs out into the space like he just saw a ghost. “Dima, come quick!” he yells.

“What is it?” I snap. “Does she want a fucking foot rub?”

“No,” he says. “Her water broke.”

My jaw drops. “You’re fucking kidding.”

Gennady shakes his head. “Her legs are wet and there’s a puddle on the floor. She’s been moaning for a while. I thought it was because she was tied up, but maybe she has been in pain. Like, in labor.”

I race in the room. Vera’s eyes are wide and terrified. True to Gennady’s word, her black jeans are soaked.

“What are we going to do?” Gennady stands up and paces away from me and then back, nervous energy fizzling off of him like he’s a live wire. “I don’t know how to birth a baby.”

“Shut up,” I say again. “Let me think.”

The hospital is out of the question. Too many loose ends there. Too many questions. Letting her give birth in an abandoned, dirty warehouse is an option, albeit not a great one. After all, Arya did it in the back of a car with only me to help her.

But Vera is pregnant with twins. Twice the risk. And even after coming this far… Even after everything she’s done to me and Arya and Lukas… Even after everything Ilyasov has schemed…

I can’t let this woman die.

Think, motherfucker!I roar at myself.Come up with a plan.

“Dima,” Gennady warns, “she is not doing so well. What’s the call?”

Vera is doubled over, her face red as she groans through what I now realize is a contraction. She’s pulling taut against her chains.

I want to call Arya. She’d know how to make shit right.

But that ship has sailed. So I try a different route.

* * *

“Dima, hello!” Lauren says cheerfully when she answers the phone. “Are you calling to whisk me away on another vacation? This one isn’t over yet, but I can call out of work again. I’m sure they can get on without me at the clinic.”

“I need help.”

“What is it? Where are you?” Lauren’s voice shifts from casual to professional in an instant.

“I’ll text you the address. Come now. Run, don’t walk.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.” She hangs up and I text her the address.

I call Sacha, too. He’s the mafia doctor, mostly schooled in knife and gunshot wounds, but it’s better than nothing.

“Should I untie her?” Gennady asks, hovering over Vera, who is writhing so hard the chair is starting to wobble around. If it tips over, she wouldn’t be able to protect herself or her stomach.

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