Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Images of her flash in my head. I think of her with her hands on her stomach when she told me she was pregnant. I remember the feeling of her face pressed into my shoulder as she cried. I hear her laugh as I twirled her around this kitchen.
She’s gone, and it’s all my fault. It’s because of the life I chose over her. The life I have always justified as necessary. The life I chose over our child.
I sink onto the couch and press my hands over my face. My entire body feels too heavy to move and too electric to rest. A low, brutal sound escapes me, something between a scream and a sob.
I’ve always believed I could outmaneuver any threat. That I could see every angle, every betrayal, every shifting piece on the board. I have ruled like that for more than two decades with precision and dominance. None of that matters now. Not when she’s out there somewhere, terrified, alone, and carrying our child. Not when her life could be in danger.
That’s how Davýd finds me several minutes later. I’m frozen in place, too overwhelmed to make a damn move.
“If anything happens to her, I’ll lose my mind,” I tell him quietly. “And I put you through this. Lena died because of me, Davýd. You should hate me.”
He lets out a deep sigh and sits next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Probably.” He shrugs. “But I was just as much a part of that attack as you were. I gave you the okay. This is the life we live, Samuil. These are the risks we take.”
I shake my head. “I’m the pakhan,” I remind him. “You couldn’t have gone over my head even if you’d wanted to.”
My decisions killed a mother.
My decisions put Molly in this exact danger.
“No,” he says firmly. “I wouldn’t have wanted to. It was the right call at the time. Neither of us knew what was going to happen. Regretting our actions can’t bring Lena back. I had to make my peace with that. Molly could still be alive. Let’s focus on that.”
I press my fists into my eyes and breathe through the guilt clawing up my throat. If I had been a different kind of man she might not be gone right now. I think of her curled up on the couch, pale and shaking after reading those articles. I remember the horror in her voice when she realized Anya’s mother died because of the hits I ordered.
“I can’t do this,” I admit weakly. “I can’t lose her.”
My voice breaks, and I realize I’m crying. I don’t think I’ve ever cried. Not when my mother walked out without a backward glance. Not when my father drank himself into the grave while I begged him to stay alive long enough to teach me anything. Not when my brother was senselessly killed.
I have buried more men than I can count. I have seen betrayal from people I trusted with my life. Nothing has ever gutted me like this. I’ve never cared about anyone like this before. I’ve never loved anyone before.
It doesn’t matter what Molly said last night. It doesn’t matter that I chose the Bratva over her. None of that changes the fact that she’s mine to protect. The child she carries is mine. The future I envisioned so clearly for the first time in my miserable life is real. I’ll tear the entire city apart to get her back.
My phone buzzes in my hand. I stare at the screen.
“Who has her?” he asks quietly.
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “I’m waiting for Tomàs to get me the plates. It was a smooth operation. They took her in seconds.”
“It sounds like Lebedev.” He sighs. “Come on, let’s think.”
“All I’ve been doing is thinking, and what I keep coming up with is that I deserve this,” I admit.
He looks at me sharply. “No.”
“Yes,” I say flatly. “I deserve it because of who I am. Because of what I’ve done. I deserve it because of Lena, because Anya is left without a mother. For every other wife and child who’s lost a father or a brother because of me. I deserve it because she asked me to leave this world behind and I picked it over her.”
His jaw clenches, grief flickering across his features.
“Don’t put that on yourself, Samuil. You were never given a choice. You inherited this life, and you’ve done the best with the hand you were dealt.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But the choices I made shaped this. And now she’s somewhere terrified and alone.”
He sits across from me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Samuil. Look at me.”
I force myself to.
“You need to stay upright,” he says. “She needs the pakhan right now, not a man drowning in guilt.”