Page 19 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

He drags his eyes up from my belly to meet my gaze. The blue of his irises has softened. It’s not fire or ice anymore. It’s the blue of the first spring violet pushing up through the ground after the snow has thawed.

“Kiska,it’s the happiest moment of my life.”

Relief. That’s all I feel.

The pure simplicity of standing here, connected by something we’ve created together.

It’s the deepest form of intimacy there is.

And I realize that I don’t hate being tied to Aleks like this. If I’m brainwashed, then fuck it, I’m brainwashed. If I’m stupid, then I’m stupid.

I choose this.

I choose him.

“I’m scared,” I admit.

“You have nothing to be scared of,” he tells me. “I’ll protect you.”

He says it with such fierce, proud conviction that I actually believe him. No man should be able to promise things like that and mean it.

But Aleks can.

Aleks does.

“Will you?” I ask, my voice trembling.

“With my dying breath. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Tears spring up in my eyes. His hand on my belly is the gentle heat I never knew I needed.

“What’s wrong, little lamb?” he asks softly.

I swipe at my cheeks. “It’s nothing.”

“Olivia.”

I look down. “You’re the first person who seems truly happy about this news.”

His eyes darken instantly. “They know?”

“Yes.”

“Even Hargrove?”

I nod. “Yes, even him.”

He rips his hand away from me. “Fuck.”

“Aleks, he won’t hurt—”

“He absolutely fucking would,” he snarls viciously, whirling to face me again. “If he thought it would make me lose so much as a minute of sleep, he would gut you in front of me.”

“I won’t let anything happen to our baby,” I protest.

“No,” Aleks growls, “Iwon’t let anything happen to our baby.”

He reaches up to stroke my cheek with a kind of feral possessiveness that makes me quiver.

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