Page 87 of Scarred Bratva King

She doesn’t answer right away, and the silence leaves space for my thoughts to swirl.

“I’m going to raise a child with Dmitri,” she says, touching her stomach. “Or did you forget?”

“No, of course not,” I reply. I glance at the money again, my stomach twisting. Maxim did what no one else could—he ended the threat of Vito Lombardi. But at what cost? Does that kind of violence ever really end?

I sink onto the stool behind the counter, staring out the window as the sunlight continues to pour in. I should feel relief that Vito is gone, that the danger is over, but all I feel is the heavy weight of uncertainty.

Can I raise this child knowing their father is so entrenched in a world of violence? Can Maxim ever change? Or will he always be the man who sees himself as a monster?

“I’ll make us some coffees,” Elena says, disappearing into the back.

I’m about to ask why she disappeared so fast when the door opens and Victor walks in.

His hands are tucked casually into the pockets of his tailored coat, but his eyes are sharp, calculating, and entirely unnerving.

“I thought we should talk,” he says, his voice smooth but commanding. “It seems my son has been too busy slaughtering half the Italians in New York to speak with his wife recently.”

“Fine,” I say, gesturing toward the couch. “Say what you came to say.”

He doesn’t sit. He paces instead, his movements deliberate, his hands clasped behind his back.

He stops pacing, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. “He’s staying away from you and you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you asked him to. Do you know what that means?”

“It means he’s respecting my boundaries,” I reply evenly, though my heart is racing.

He smiles. “It means he loves you. Enough to put your wishes above his own.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. My mouth opens, but no words come out.

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “He killed Vito Lombardi. A man no one else could get near. Wiped out an army of men and all to protect you.” He pauses, his voice softening just slightly. “I thought he tricked us both to gain power. The only person he was lying to was himself.” He shrugs. “And I’d like to be a grandfather while I still can.”

My throat feels tight. “I need him to be someone he can’t be.”

“I gathered,” he says, his tone sharp. “But people can change. Don’t you think? You were a civilian, frightened, alone. You’re now a killer with your spine straight and your head held high. I am proud to have you as my daughter in law.”

I turn away, needing to create space between us. “Why are you telling me this?”

His voice drops, quieter but no less intense. “Because I’ve seen what happens when you focus on the wrong things. I don’t want that for you. Or for my boy.

“The only reason I wanted you to prove your relationship was real was because I wanted it to be. It might not seem that way but I want him to be happy, even if that’s with a civilian.”

I grip the edge of the counter, trying to steady myself. “Your son doesn’t think he’s capable of love.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “My son is stubborn and blind when it comes to his own heart. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He loves you, Veronica. He just doesn’t know how to handle that fact yet.”

He studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he asks the question I’ve been dreading. “I asked you once before and I’ll ask you again. Do you love him?”

I try to deflect, to brush it off, but the words stick in my throat. He doesn’t let up, his gaze piercing. “Do you love him, Veronica?”

“Yes,” I finally admit. “I do.”

He nods, satisfied. “Then tell him. Raise the child together. Love like this—rare, real love—is worth fighting for. Don’t wait until it’s too late. He’s thinking of moving back to Moscow. Doesn’t see the point in staying here.”

The weight of his words settles over me as he steps toward the door. Before he leaves, he glances back, his expression softer than I’ve ever seen it. And then he’s gone.

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