Page 61 of Tattooed Vow

Two weeks ago, Nick was released from the hospital after barely surviving the shooting at the coffee shop. If it wasn’t for Dimitri, I would have been shot that day too. Nick is now recovering in a safehouse with round-the-clock security, helping Aleksandr and Dimitri plan their counterattack using his inside knowledge of Morozov's operations.

And Dimitri... God, Dimitri has been like a man possessed since the attack. Focused, dangerous, and consumed with bringing down Morozov and his notorious second-in-command, the man they call the Butcher. The thought of adding a pregnancy to the mix makes my stomach churn all over again.

“Let me handle Aleksandr,” Talia says with quiet confidence. “Just get dressed. I'll come get you when it's time to go.”

An hour later, I sit on the edge of my bed, dressed in jeans and a loose sweater with my damp hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. My stomach is still doing somersaults, though I'm not sure whether it's from morning sickness or anxiety.

A soft knock precedes Talia's entrance. She wears a satisfied smile. “It's arranged. Aleksandr is sending two men with us. They'll stay in the waiting room.”

“How did you convince him?”

“I told him it was a women's health issue, and you aren’t comfortable seeing the Bratva doctor.” She sits beside me, draping her arm over my shoulders. “He may be thepakhan, but even Aleksandr Avilov knows better than to argue with his wife about her sister's reproductive health.”

Despite everything, I find myself smiling. “Especially when that wife is you.”

Talia squeezes my hand. “Whatever the test says, you're not alone in this.”

Growing up in foster care together, we had learned early that depending on others was a fast track to disappointment. But now Talia has built a family with Aleksandr. They adopted his brother Mikhail’s children, Sasha and Maxim, after his murder and gave birth to their daughter Angelina just over a year ago. She's found her place in this dangerous world.

“What if...” I start, then force myself to continue. “What if I don't want to keep it? If there even is an 'it'?”

The question has been haunting me since the possibility first arose. I've never seen myself as mother material. How could I? Our childhood had been a series of temporary homes and indifferent caretakers. I had no model for motherhood and no idea how to nurture a child.

And then there is Dimitri. He is powerful, passionate, protective, and quite possibly the father of the child I might be carrying. How will he react if I tell him I’m not ready, that I don’t want his baby?

“That's your decision,” Talia says firmly. “No one else. Not even Dimitri's.”

I nod my throat tight with emotion. “Let's go find out if there's even anything to decide.”

The drive into the city passes in tense silence. Spring is in full bloom in New York, with cherry blossoms and tulips adding splashes of color to the urban landscape. Under differentcircumstances, I might have enjoyed the beauty of the season. Today, I barely notice it.

Yuri drives while Pavel rides shotgun, both men alert and scanning for any sign of Morozov's people. In the backseat, Talia holds my hand, occasionally giving it a reassuring squeeze.

The clinic is tucked inside a plain, unremarkable building.

“Wait here,” Talia tells the men as we step inside. They take their positions in the lobby, eyes sharp, tracking everyone who passes.

“We won’t be long,” she adds over her shoulder.

The waiting room is mercifully quiet. A few other women are flipping through magazines or scrolling on their phones. I fill out the paperwork with trembling hands, filling in Talia’s information in the emergency contact section.

When my name is called, Talia asks, “Do you want me to come with you?”

I hesitate, then nod. “Yes, definitely.”

The examination is quick and clinical. They test my blood pressure and weight and ask a few questions about my symptoms. Finally, the moment of truth is a urine and blood test.

“We'll have the results in just a few minutes,” the nurse says with a practiced smile before leaving us alone in the exam room.

I sit on the paper-covered table, the crinkling sound impossibly loud in the quiet room. “What do I do if it's positive?” I whisper.

“First, you breathe,” Talia says matter-of-factly. “Then you take some time to think about what you want. Not what Dimitriwants, not what anyone else would want for you. Whatyouwant.”

“Neither of us ever had a real mother,” I say, the words spilling out now that I've started. “How am I supposed to know how to be one? How doyoudo it?”

“Sis—”

“And the timing couldn't be worse,” I ramble. “Morozov is still out there, wanting me dead. Nick is in a safehouse. Dimitri and Aleksandr are planning a war against Morozov.” I’m spiraling now, all my fears tumbling out. “And even if none of that were happening, we're talking about the Bratva. I don’t know if I can live that kind of life.”

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