Page 84 of Tattooed Vow

Talia's expression softens, understanding flooding her eyes. She has walked this path before me and loved an Avilov man through danger and uncertainty. “I know, sis. The first few months werethe hardest for me, too. The worry never fully goes away, but you learn to live with it.”

I bite my lip, tears suddenly threatening to spill over. The hormones, the fear, the uncertainty—everything wells up inside me like a gathering storm. “Sometimes, I wonder if this is a mistake,” I confess, the words burning my throat as they escape. “Loving him, staying here...constantly wondering if he’s okay.” My voice breaks on the last words, the guilt of even thinking such thoughts crushing my chest.

Talia reaches across the table, her hands warm as they envelop mine. “Listen to me,” she says, her voice low and intense. “Love is never a mistake. The world we live in is a dangerous place. But you have to be strong for yourself and the baby. You can't spend your days waiting by the window, counting the minutes until Dimitri returns.”

I take a sip of coffee, the bitterness grounding me. “I know. It's just hard sometimes. With Morozov still out there…” My voice trails off as my fears surface. The mere mention of his name sends ice through my veins.

“Dimitri is a strong man, and he loves you. You will get through this together. Aleksandr and I faced many enemies together, and we're still here.” Her smile is tinged with a sadness that speaks of battles fought and scars earned. “Besides, you're not alone, sis. You have me and this family. We always protect our own.”

The tears I held back spill over, hot against my cheeks. Talia doesn’t try to stop them. She simply pushes a napkin across the table, allowing me to feel my emotions with dignity. This is part of strength, too, I realize. Not the absence of fear but the willingness to feel it fully and move forward anyway.

“I love him, Talia. I really do.” The words spill out before I can stop them, a confession that feels liberating yet terrifying. Love has never been the problem. It’s the fear that accompanies it, the knowledge that loving Dimitri means accepting a life where danger lurks around every corner.

Talia reaches across the table, placing her hand over mine. Her touch is warm and reassuring. “Love is a powerful thing. It can be a shield and a weapon. Morozov may want to hurt you, but you cannot let that fear control you. You must live your life, and fight when the time comes.”

Her words resonate with me. I made a conscious decision after the shooting, after the terrifying moment when Morozov's men had tried to end my life. I refused to be a prisoner of fear. I will not let his threats dictate my existence.

“I made a promise to myself,” I say, my voice steady despite the tears drying on my cheeks. “After what happened, I decided I wouldn't be afraid. I will live my life fully, and when the time comes, I will fight back with everything I have.” My hand rests protectively over my belly, over the tiny life that has already survived one attempt on its existence. A fierce determination rises within me, burning away the morning's melancholy.

Talia's eyes shine with pride. “You are stronger than you think. The two of us are warriors in our own right. We don't cower in the face of danger.” She reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I glance around the kitchen, at Abram quietly working at the stove, at the sunlight streaming through the windows, and at Talia's fierce, confident expression. For a moment, I can see the beauty in this life and the strength in the family I belong to.

The kitchen door swings open just then, and I turn to see Viktor step inside. He is a well-built man, his presence commanding and reassuring. His face bears a thin scar along his cheek, a remnant of some past violence, but his eyes are kind when they meet mine.

“Miss Davis,” he says with a slight nod, his voice deep and accented. “Thepakhanand Dimitri are back. They would like to see you.”

My heart races, pounding against my ribs. “Now?” A dozen scenarios flash through my mind, none of them good. Have they found Morozov? Has there been another attack? Is someone hurt? The coffee in my stomach churns with sudden anxiety.

“Yes, they said it was urgent.” His expression gives nothing away, and I practice neutrality, which does little to calm my nerves. But there is something in the set of his shoulders, a tension that wasn’t there before.

I glance at Talia, who gives me an encouraging nod. “I can go with you if you want.” The offer hangs between us. A lifeline if I need it.

I hesitate, wanting the support but needing to show strength. If I am to be the woman Dimitri needs and the mother my child deserves, I have to face whatever comes on my own two feet. The decision crystallizes in my mind, clarifying like sunlight through fog.

I shake my head no and take one final sip of coffee before I follow Viktor out of the kitchen. The hallway feels longer than usual, each step a mark of the uncertainty ahead.

My palms grow damp with nervous sweat, and I wipe them against the fabric of my leggings. The morning light no longerseems warm and comforting. Instead, it throws long shadows across the floor, stretching like dark fingers across our path. The portraits on the walls seem to watch with newfound intensity, generations of Avilov eyes following my progress down the hallway.

I brace for whatever news awaits, fear and anticipation coiling tightly in my stomach. I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin. The woman who entered this house months ago, naïve and uncertain, is gone. In her place stands someone new, forged in the crucible of fear and love. Someone who will fight for her family with every breath in her body.

As I approach the office, I can hear the low murmur of voices, serious and tense. I take a deep breath before stepping inside.

Dimitri is leaning against the wooden desk, a frown on his handsome face. His blonde hair is slightly disheveled as if he has run his hands through it multiple times, which is a habit when he is stressed. When they meet mine, his eyes soften immediately, filling with a tenderness reserved only for me.

Aleksandr stands beside him, flipping through papers with a practiced hand and a face carved from stone. His presence fills the room, an authority that seems almost palpable in the air around him. Yet something else is there, too. Concern, perhaps, or determination. The man who intimidated me when we first met has become a family member, a protector, and someone whose strength I can draw on in moments of weakness.

“Ah, Sandy,” Aleksandr says, his voice steady. “Come in.”

I step further into the room, my bare feet silent on the plush carpet. The office smells of leather, old books, and the faintesthint of cigar. It should been comforting, but the tension between the two men sets my nerves on edge.

“What's going on?” I ask, glancing between them. My voice is stronger than expected, steady despite the fear I feel.

Dimitri steps forward, concern flaring in his dark eyes. He reaches for my hand, his touch steadying me. “We received word about Morozov. He's been making moves, and we believe he's planning another attack.”

My heart sinks, cold dread spreading through my limbs. I knew this moment would come and had prepared myself for it, but the reality still hits me like a slap of cold water. The room seems to tilt slightly, the edges of my vision blurring before I force myself back to steadiness. I will not falter. Not now.

“What do you mean? Do you know if it's directed at me?” My free hand presses against my stomach, a gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed by either man. Their eyes flicker to the movement, and something fierce passes across Dimitri's face.

---