Page 80 of Tattooed Vow

“We don't have to decide anything now,” I reply softly, not wanting him to make promises in the emotional aftermath of the morning's events. “Let's see what information you get from Morozov's men. Perhaps there's still a way to end this without such drastic measures.”

Dimitri nods, but the seed has been planted. I can see it in his eyes. The beginning of a plan, a path forward that hadn't existed. Whatever happens next, whatever Morozov's next move might be, we will face it together. And for now, that is enough.

I stretch to kiss him again, pouring all my relief, fear, and newfound hope into the contact. His arms tighten around me, solid and secure, as the afternoon light spills through the study windows, illuminating us in its golden glow. We’re two people finding our way toward a future neither of us has imagined possible.

28

SANDY

The waiting room in Dr. Daria Algorin’s office carries the sterile scent of antiseptic laced with lavender, which doesn’t quite manage to soften the clinical edge.

Dr. Daria isn’t just any physician. She is the Avilov Bratva’s private doctor, on call twenty-four hours a day. In addition to treating gunshot wounds and broken ribs behind mansion walls, she also serves as an attending physician at the local hospital. An arrangement that works in everyone’s favor. Whether it is stitching someone up in a makeshift medical room at the estate or handling more serious emergencies under the cover of legitimate care, she keeps police involvement to a minimum and inconvenient questions at bay. Normally, she would have conducted today’s exam at the mansion. But the specialized equipment she needs is only available in her office.

I shift on the padded exam table, the paper crinkling beneath me as I adjust my shirt. My hand instinctively lands on my stomach. Eight weeks. Our baby is only the size of a raspberry but is already turning my world upside down.

“Everything looks good, Miss Davis,” Dr. Daria says, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiles warmly. She is probably in her fifties, with blonde hair twisted into a messy knot and black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. “The cramping is normal for early pregnancy. Your uterus is expanding to make room for the little one.”

Relief floods through me. “So, the baby is okay?”

“Perfect. Strong heartbeat, right on track developmentally.” She peels off her latex gloves. “I’ve prescribed some vitamins to help with the fatigue. Would you like me to call Mr. Popov? He was very concerned.”

Dimitri had wanted to come, had insisted, but something urgent had come up at one of the warehouses. He sent two of his men instead. Yuri waited outside in the car while Viktor had accompanied me in.

“No need,” I reply, sliding off the table. “I’ll let him know everything’s fine.”

Dr. Daria nods. “Good. If the cramps worsen or there’s any bleeding, call me immediately. Otherwise, I’ll see you in four weeks.”

I thank her and gather my things, a sense of lightness in my chest as I walk through the quiet hallway to the front desk. The receptionist smiles and hands me a small bag with prenatal vitamins and pamphlets about early pregnancy.

Life has achieved a strange new normal in the few weeks since the ambush at the distillery. No sign of Morozov, but the threat of him had become a constant shadow, following me wherever I went. I barely left the estate, only venturing out for this doctor's appointment because I couldn't delay it any longer. Thecramping had worried me too much and worried Dimitri even more.

Viktor and I step through the glass doors, and the cool spring air rushes to greet us. The scent of fresh rain clings to everything. The asphalt is still damp, and the cherry trees lining the parking lot burst with green buds and tiny pink blossoms. I pull my jacket tighter, suddenly aware of how exposed I feel outside the safety of the estate.

Yuri is easy to spot, leaning against the sleek black SUV parked near the curb. His gaze sweeps the lot like a hawk tracking movement, fingers resting on the concealed weapon under his jacket. “Clear,” he murmurs as we approach the SUV.

Viktor nods, but I don’t speak. My fingers curl around the bag of vitamins, gripping it tightly. We are almost to the SUV when the world explodes.

The sharp crack of a gunshot slices through the stillness.

Viktor grunts, his body jerking beside me, blood spraying across the side of the SUV. “Down!” he barks, grabbing me and yanking me behind a nearby concrete pillar. His body presses against me, shielding me as more shots ring out, echoing through the parking lot in rapid succession.

Panic claws up my throat. I crouch low, my heart slamming against my ribs as I fumble to cover my stomach with both arms. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. The only sound is the deafening gunfire and my own pulse roaring in my ears.

From the corner of my eye, I see a flash of movement.

Dimitri.

He appears like a ghost rising from the shadow, all black clothes and fury, returning fire ruthlessly. His movements are surgical, each shot calm, precise, and lethal.

“Stay down!” Viktor growls, clutching his bleeding side with one hand and his gun with the other. Blood soaks through his coat, but he doesn’t falter.

I dare a glance and catch sight of two men ducking between parked cars, retreating behind a white delivery van. Morozov’s men. It has to be.

Yuri joined the firefight, his weapon drawn, crouching beside the SUV as he returned fire. I can’t see anyone else in the lot. No civilians, no witnesses. Just the sharp echo of violence and the knowledge that we are under attack.

Viktor shifts, blood seeping through his fingers as he forces himself upright. “Move! Get to the car!”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. With a growl of pain, he grabs my elbow and propels me forward. My legs scramble to keep up, every step an act of will as bullets slam into the surrounding cars. Glass shatters somewhere behind us. Alarms shriek.

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