Page 129 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

“That’s a dangerous game,” Vasiliy warns, his fingers tightening around mine. “Men like Yakov don’t give up. They wait, they plan, they strike when you least expect it.”

“Then we’ll be ready,” I insist. “But I won’t have our child born into a world where their father’s first solution is always death.”

The words hang in the air between us, a challenge and a plea rolled into one. Vasiliy’s expression softens as he looks at me, something like pride flickering in his steel-gray eyes.

“You’ve changed,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

“We’ve all changed,” I reply, resting my free hand on my stomach. “That’s the point.”

Nikolai clears his throat. “I might have a solution.” He shifts his weight, looking uncomfortable. “There’s a facility I own. Private. Discreet. Specializes in long-term psychiatric care for...people in our situation.”

“A mental hospital?” Vasiliy’s eyebrows rise. “You think Yakov will just sit quietly in therapy?”

“It’s more secure than that,” Nikolai says. “Think of it as a comfortable prison with good doctors. He’d be under constant surveillance, regular psychological evaluation?—”

“And what happens when he inevitably escapes?” Vasiliy interrupts.

“He won’t.” Nikolai’s confidence is absolute. “Not without us knowing well in advance. And if he tries...” He shrugs. “Then we’ll have justification for…more permanent measures.”

I consider the proposal, weighing it against all we’ve been through. It isn’t perfect—nothing in our world ever is—but it’s a step away from the endless bloodshed.

“Can you arrange it?” I ask Nikolai.

He nods. “I already have. Just waiting for your decision.”

Vasiliy is quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable as he studies my face. I meet his gaze steadily, silently pleading for him to understand.

“For our child,” I whisper. “For our future.”

Finally, he exhales, some of the tension leaving his body. “Let’s do it,” he tells Nikolai, never taking his eyes off me. “But I want daily reports. And if there’s even a hint that he’s planning something...”

“Understood.” Nikolai moves toward the door, then pauses. “I’ll set it in motion.”

After his brother leaves, Vasiliy pulls me closer until I’m perched on the edge of his hospital bed.

“You keep surprising me,lisichka,” he murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Always fighting, even when it’s not what I expect.”

“That’s why you love me,” I reply, trying for lightness but hearing the tremor in my own voice.

“Among other reasons.” His thumb traces my jawline, eyes serious. “But don’t mistake mercy for weakness. If Yakov ever threatens you or our child again, there won’t be any discussion.”

“I know.” I rest my hand over his, feeling the steady beat of his pulse. “But maybe this is how we start breaking the cycle. Not with grand gestures, but with everyday choices.”

He kisses me then, gentle but fierce, a promise sealed in warmth rather than blood. When we break apart, something has shifted between us—a decision made, a path chosen.

“So,” I say, settling more comfortably beside him, “what happens now?”

“Now?” A rare, genuine smile curves his lips. “Now we rebuild. Make something worth fighting for.”

The transfer takes place on a gray Tuesday morning, the clouds hanging low over the city like a shroud. I watch from the tinted window of Vasiliy’s SUV as orderlies wheel Yakov from the private hospital room toward the waiting ambulance. Despite his injuries, he sits straight in the wheelchair, his posture impeccable. Only the paleness of his skin betrays the trauma his body has endured.

“You should be at home,” Vasiliy murmurs beside me, his hand resting possessively on my knee.

“I need to see this,” I reply, not taking my eyes off Yakov. “To know it’s really over.”

Vasiliy’s silence speaks volumes, but he doesn’t argue. We both know it isn’t truly over—might never be—but this chapter, at least, is closing.

As if sensing my gaze, Yakov turns his head toward our vehicle. Even at this distance, I can feel the weight of his calculating stare. A chill runs down my spine despite the warmth of the car’s interior.

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