Page 5 of Porcelain Vows

He’s going to make it.

Fight, Bobik!

I lean against the cool glass once more. My breath fogs the surface, obscuring my son’s face for a moment. I wipe it away with my sleeve, desperate to keep him in sight.

I should have protected you better, synok.

Heavy footsteps approach from behind— Sasha’s distinctive gait. I don’t turn, just rasp out “Stella?” My voice is hoarse, revealing more vulnerability than I’m comfortable showing, even to my most trusted man.

“Still unconscious.” Sasha stands at my shoulder, his reflection appearing in the glass beside mine. He’s been keeping me updated since I rushed back to the hospital. It was a fucking shitshow in that place after I left. Blood has dried on his shirtsleeve where a bullet grazed him. “Doctor says it’s a severe concussion. She’ll need to stay a few days.”

The words hit me hard, each one a reminder of my failure to protect what’s mine. My chest constricts, making it hard to breathe.

“The baby?” My voice cracks slightly.

Please, God.

Please…

“Unharmed. A miracle, considering what happened.” Sasha shifts his weight. “They’re monitoring both closely.”

I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Good.” I exhale. My shoulders drop a fraction of an inch, the only outward sign of my overwhelming relief. Not that their well-being had anything to do with me. Both of my children faced death today, and I did nothing to help either of them.

I’m a fucking useless parent. Just like the pathetic piece of shit who fathered me.

Pizdets!

I mentally shake myself and get my head out of my ass. This is no time for self-pity. My children needed protection, and I failed them both. The taste of bile rises in my throat, bitter and familiar. I swallow it down with the rest of my weakness. Later, I’ll punish myself properly—hours in the gym until my muscles scream, or perhaps target practice until my hands bleed. For now, I need answers.

“Gianni?” I ask, though I already suspect the answer. My jaw clenches at the mere thought of his name, a burning hatred building behind my sternum.

“Dead. Two chest shots. One to the head.” There’s a clinical detachment in Sasha’s voice that I appreciate. He glances around us before turning back to me. “His body’s been disposed of. The others, too.”

Cold satisfaction washes through me. One threat eliminated, at least.

“And you said Sofia got away?” Her involvement was a complication I hadn’t expected. Another loose end dangling before me, threatening to unravel everything. My jaw tightens as I consider the implications— she knows too much, has seen too much.

“During the gunfight.” Sasha’s tone hardens, a rare crack in his professional demeanor. “Probably scuttled back to her father.”

I suppress a growl of frustration. Sofia running to Novikov changes the equation entirely. The old man has always been a problem, but with his daughter feeding him information about tonight’s bloodbath, he becomes an immediate threat. I run my thumb along my jawline, feeling the tension building there.

“Yebanaya suka!” I snarl. My jaw clenches as I imagine what I’d like to do to her. Pure rage circles inside me as I process that the woman who hurt Stella—myStella—is still breathing.

“You want to get rid of her?” Sasha asks. “I could send a team.”

I jerk my head. “No. That would start a war.” One I’d be quite happy to finish, but I need to consider the consequences. Taking out the daughter of a family boss will cause a shitstorm that even I don’t want to get caught up in. Not now, at least.

My fingers tighten into a fist, knuckles straining with the force of my restraint. Every instinct in my body demands retribution for what she did to Stella.

“The Novikov family has too many allies,” I growl, rolling my shoulders to release some tension. It doesn’t work. “We move against them directly, half of the East Coast families will align against us.” I run a hand through my hair, considering our options. “For now, we watch. And when the moment is right…”

I don’t need to finish the thought. Sasha understands. Patience has always been one of my most lethal weapons. But right now, it’s stretching my nerves to snapping point. Rage boils within me, threatening to explode.

Fucking Novikov!

Without warning, frustration boils over, and I slam my fist against the wall, startling a passing nurse. The pain radiates up my arm, but it’s nothing compared to the agony tearing through my chest.

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