Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Her expression hardens. “You still want to fight this like it’s honor versus power. Vadka—we have a child in the other room. We have more to lose now.”
“I know what I have to lose.” My voice comes out rough, too close to raw. “You think I don’t consider all the possibilities?”
She sighs. “We’re both trying to protect him. Just differently. It’s two sides of the same coin.”
She’s not wrong.
I nod. Barely.
She shifts closer, and her knee touches mine under the table.
“I want you to win this war,” she says quietly. “But I need to know you won’t let pride bury us in the rubble. Maybe we leave, maybe we get new identities. Pack up and just… go. Somewhere safe. Somewhere they won’t find us.”
I shake my head and reach for her hand.
“Ruthie,” I murmur. “I don’t care about pride. I care about you. And you need to know, just like your sister did.” It feels like progress to be able to say your sister without guilt, without pain so sharp I can’t breathe. “If you’re in with me, you’re in the Kopolov Bratva. There’s no escaping. We don’t move, we don’t hide, we don’t make any choices in the future that don’t impact every goddamn one of them.”
She stills.
Eyes wide. Barely breathing.
I lean in closer. “And in return, that means you’re one of them. One of us. It means every motherfucker in the Bratva protects you like their own. There isn’t a need you have we don’t meet. You’ll be protected. Cared for.” I swallow hard. “Family.”
Because isn’t that what this is all about, in the end? Love and family, friendship that crosses boundaries and knows no limits. Love and war, death and life.
She holds my gaze and rests her hand on mine. Then she reaches across the table and pulls the map toward her.
“Okay,” she says. “Then let’s plan it together.”
It’s not surrender.
It’s something deeper.
Trust.
And it feels like she’s made the decision to do something she hasn’t spoken of, not yet, like she’s facing a fear she’s held onto that no longer holds her in its grip.
I want to ask her what it is, what she’s afraid of, what she needs. But Ruthie values her independence, and I know by now this is part of her process. If I need her to trust me, I need to give her space to do things in her way, in her time.
She gets up and walks away for a little while. Says she’s going to brush her teeth.
But she doesn’t come back.
Not right away.
After ten minutes, I check the bedroom.
She’s not there.
The bathroom light’s still on. Shit. Is she okay?
I knock once. “Ruthie?” My voice is sharper than I intended. “Ruthie?”
No answer. I hear a sniff that sets my racing heart to ease, but not fully.
I open the door slowly.
She’s standing in the middle of the room, barefoot on the tile.
Trembling.
She’s holding a plastic stick like it just detonated in her hands.
And my heart stops.
Wait. What?
She looks up, and her lips part.
“It’s positive, Vadka.” And then she’s crying. She blinks, and hot, fat tears roll down her cheeks. She sniffs, and I can’t think straight.
I step forward, and she flinches—not back, but inward, like she’s bracing for me to say something. Something cruel. Or shocked. Or distant.
But I don’t.
I just stare at her.
At the firecracker of a woman I’ve burned for.
At the knife-sharp survivor who’s carried more than any one soul should.
At the girl who never thought she’d get to be anything soft.
And now—she’s carrying a future neither of us planned.
A child.
Ours.
She starts to say something. I can see it bubbling up—an apology, maybe, or a shield disguised as sarcasm, fear, or humor, but I cut her off.
Not with words.
With my arms.
I pull her into me. Tight. Fierce. Like she might disappear if I’m not careful. “A baby? My god, Ruthie. You’re pregnant, baby?” I hold her so tight she gasps for breath, and I have to let her go a little.
She doesn’t resist, just melts.
Right there in the bathroom, under cold light and warm silence, Ruthie lets go.
Her arms come around me. Her face buries into my chest, and she sobs.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she whispers, her voice broken.
“I know.” Of course this wasn’t planned.
“I don’t even know how it happened. I’m on birth control, but like… I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel—”
“You don’t have to know,” I murmur. “We’ll figure it out.”
“We’re still being hunted.”
“I’ll end it.”
“You can’t promise that.”
I pull back just enough to look her in the eye.
“I can. And I will. Because now? This isn’t just about bloodlines. Or Bratva. Or war.”
I put her hand on my chest.
Let her feel what she’s done to me.
“This is about us.”
She breathes, deep and wrecked.
Then she leans up… and kisses me. I hold her face in my hands, my lips against hers, my heart so full I feel like I’m on cloud nine. A baby.