Page 82 of Tattooed Vow

Hours after security has tripled around the estate and Lev has made countless calls to his government contacts and the underworld, Dimitri and I finally retreat to our bedroom.

I step out of the shower, wrapping myself in a plush towel, trying to wash away the lingering fear. Dimitri sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, still fully dressed. He hasn't left my side except to speak with his security team, and even then, he stationed his enforcer, Ivan, outside our bedroom door.

I sit beside him, placing a hand on his back. “You should get some rest.”

He looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and haunted. “How can I rest when I almost lost you today? When I almost lost our child?”

“But you didn't,” I reply softly. “We're here.”

“Because I got lucky,” he says bitterly.

“Dimitri, you can't blame yourself.”

“Who else should I blame?” he demands, standing abruptly. “I knew Morozov was a threat. I knew he would target you to get to me. And still, I let you go to that appointment without me.”

“You had business to attend to. And I wasn't alone. Yuri and Viktor were with me.”

“They failed!” Dimitri roars, making me flinch. Immediately, his face crumples with regret. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout.”

“It's okay,” I say, though my heart races again. “We're all on edge.”

He rubs the nape of his neck, pacing the bedroom length. “No, it's not okay. None of this is okay. Morozov got his men within a few feet of you. He could have taken you. He could have...” He stops, unable to voice the worst possibilities.

I stand and go to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my cheek against his back. “But he didn't. You stopped him.”

Dimitri turns in my embrace, cradling my face in his hands. “I can't lose you. Either of you.” His hand drifts to my stomach. “You're everything to me.”

The desperation in his voice makes tears spring to my eyes. This powerful man, who commands respect and fear from everyonearound him, is completely undone by the thought of harm coming to me or our child.

“You won't lose us,” I promise. “We're stronger than Morozov is. And we have more to fight for.”

Dimitri embraces me fiercely, burying his face in my hair. “I will end him for this,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear it on my life.”

I hold him just as tightly, drawing strength from his solid presence even as I feel the tremors running through his body. Rage and fear intermingle.

Later, as we lay in bed, Dimitri pulled me against his chest, one hand splayed protectively over my stomach. I should feel safe, ensconced in his arms, surrounded by guards, walls, and security systems. But sleep eludes me, and from Dimitri's uneven breathing I know he is awake too, his mind no doubt racing with plans and contingencies, ways to protect us and eliminate the threat.

“What are you thinking?” I whisper into the darkness.

His arms tighten around me. “That I'm going to move heaven and earth to keep you safe. Both of you.”

I nod, though, in the darkness, he can’t see it. “I know you will,” I reply softly.

“Try to sleep,” Dimitri murmurs, kissing my forehead. “I'll be right here.”

I close my eyes, knowing sleep will likely remain elusive. As I drift in and out of a restless slumber, I think of the baby. Our child growing inside me, oblivious to the danger swirling aroundus. I make a silent promise to my unborn baby: I will protect you, no matter what it takes.

And as the night deepens, I make another promise, this one darker, born of fear and anger and love so fierce it terrifies me: Morozov will never touch you. I'll kill him myself if I have to.

The thought should disturb me. Instead, I find a strange comfort in it, a resolve that settles over me like armor. Morozov made a grave mistake today. He threatened not just me but my child. And in doing so, he awakened something fierce and uncompromising in me.

I’m no longer just Sandy Davis, the girl who stumbled into the Russian underworld. I’m a mother, and I will do whatever it takes to protect what is mine.

Dimitri tightens his hold on me as if sensing my thoughts, his breath warm against my neck. In the sanctuary of his arms, I finally let exhaustion claim me, slipping into a dreamless sleep as the first light of dawn begins to paint the sky outside our window.

The battle isn’t over. It has only just begun. But I feel ready to fight for the first time since Morozov appeared in our lives.

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