Page 23 of Claimed and Bred By the Bratva

His arms tighten around me, and I feel his smile against the top of my head. "My fierce little angel. Mother of my child. Queen of my world."

"Yours," I agree sleepily. "Always yours."

As I drift off to sleep in his arms, one hand resting on my belly where our future is growing, I think about how far we've come from that first smile in a coffee shop. He was right—I did belong to him from that very first moment. I just needed time to realize it.

Now I have forever to show him exactly what that means.

Epilogue

One Year Later

Zara'sheadpopsupas Dimitri and I push through the entrance of Bean There, Done That, baby Aleksandr balanced on my hip and his designer diaper bag slung over Dimitri's shoulder. The familiar scent of espresso hits my nose—this place looks exactly the same, but I'm not the girl who used to work behind that counter.

"Finally!" Zara's voice cuts through my thoughts as she abandons the espresso machine. "I was starting to think you forgot about Aunty Zara time."

She's around the counter in seconds, purple hair now streaked with pink, arms reaching for Aleksandr, who immediately starts babbling excitedly at seeing his favorite person, who isn't Mama or Papa.

"Hello, gorgeous," she coos, settling him on her hip like she's done hundreds of times before. "Look how big you're getting!Those eyes—your daddy's for sure. You're going to be breaking hearts like him."

"We're late for the zoo," I explain, settling into our usual corner table. "Someone wouldn't leave the house until he made sure Sandy had everything a six-month-old could possibly want for a two-hour outing."

"Don't call my son Sandy," Dimitri mutters, scanning the coffee shop with those predatory eyes that never stop cataloging threats.

I roll my eyes at Zara. "He packed three changes of clothes, four different snacks, six toys, two blankets, and enough diapers for a week."

"First-time dad," Zara laughs, bouncing Aleksandr, who giggles at her animated expressions. "Remember when you used to stress about having enough money for textbooks? Now your husband stress-packs like he's preparing for the apocalypse."

"Speaking of stress," I glance around the coffee shop. You look exhausted. Are you still pulling double shifts?"

"Triple, actually. Professor Williams is still assigning papers like we don't have other classes, my car needs new brakes, and rent went up again." She sighs, then brightens. "But enough about my broke student life. Tell me about the mansion drama. Any new security upgrades? Secret passages? Underground tunnels?"

Before I can answer, Dimitri's attention snaps to a corner table. "There's my cousin," he says. "Angel, I need five minutes with Nikolai. Family business."

I follow his gaze to where a man sits with an open laptop and a coffee cup beside him. Even from here, I can see the family resemblance—thick waves of obsidian hair, controlled stillness, the same dangerous edge that marks all the Ismailov men.

"Is that the guy who's been camping out here for hours?" Zara asks, shifting Aleksandr to her other hip. "He ordered one blackcoffee at nine this morning and hasn't moved since. Super weird behavior, even for your family's standards."

Dimitri's mouth twitches. "He's been waiting for me. My apologies for the delay."

He strides across the coffee shop with that lethal grace, and I watch the two men exchange quiet words. Whatever folder or information changes hands happens quickly, but what catches my attention is how Nikolai's gaze keeps drifting to Zara, even while conducting business with the head of their family.

After a few minutes, both men approach our table.

"Nikolai," Dimitri says, "this is my wife Amani, and her best friend Zara. Ladies, my cousin Nikolai Ismailov."

Nikolai steps forward, and I catch the moment his bronze-flecked eyes lock on Zara. Something deeper than casual attraction flickers there—recognition, though I'm certain they've never met.

"A pleasure," Nikolai says, his accent thicker than Dimitri's, voice like aged whiskey. When he takes Zara's free hand to shake it, her breath catches.

"Nice to meet you," she manages, suddenly flustered in a way I've never seen before. "Sorry about the camping comment. I just... you've been here for hours without ordering food or talking to anyone. It's unusual."

"I was waiting for something important," Nikolai replies, eyes never leaving her face. "But the wait was… more pleasant than I expected."

The way he says it—like he's been watching her work, like she was the entertainment—makes heat rise to Zara's cheeks.

"Well," she says, bouncing Aleksandr nervously, "glad we could provide some... atmosphere."

Something passes between Dimitri and his cousin—understanding, perhaps warning. I can't tell which.

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