Page 31 of Bound By the Bratva

Rolan chuckles softly. "That wasn’t the real reason. You’re here because I’m your papa."

Nikolai blinks, confusion flickering over his face, but then it shifts—to surprise, then wonder, then outright joy. "You’re really my papa?"

"Yes," Rolan says. "I always have been."

Nikolai breaks into a grin so bright it hurts to look at. He wraps his arms around Rolan’s neck, holding tight. "I have a papa."

Something cracks inside my chest. My stomach turns. The bile from earlier climbs back up like acid. I step fully into the room.

"Off his lap. Now," I say, my voice cutting through the moment in such a harsh way that Nikolai stiffens and instantly looks contrite.

Both of them turn. Rolan meets my eyes, impassive, and Nikolai slides off Rolan's knee but frowns, glancing between us.

"He said he’s my papa," Nikolai says, searching my face for confirmation, for permission to be happy about it.

My mouth opens, but no words come out. My chest tightens, and I feel the sting of tears that refuse to fall. The air is dense, pressing in around me, full of something sour I can’t breathe through. I stare at Rolan, trying to understand what he's just done—what it means for the little boy now standing between us.

Rolan doesn’t gloat. There is no smugness in his eyes, only silence. He holds my gaze like he expected this to happen and planned for it all along. I force a swallow, but it does nothing toease the nausea curling in my stomach. My legs feel unsteady, like they could give out if I take a step. Nikolai stands frozen, still caught between his new joy and my silence.

I open my arms to him, my voice soft but steady. "Come here,kotyonok."

He doesn’t hesitate. He rushes into my arms and clings to my waist, his face pressing into my side. I smooth my hand over his hair and keep him there for a moment as I breathe through the ache in my throat.

"What kind of man brings a child into a war zone?" I hiss.

He doesn’t even look up from the fire, which is his new fascination without Nikolai on his knee. "The kind of man who’s done letting other people make his choices for him."

I move closer. "He’s five, Rolan. He’s a little boy. He's not a soldier you're training. He needs safety and stability."

Rolan lifts his gaze slowly. "He’s my son. You don’t get to decide what’s safe anymore. You lost that right the moment you lied to me."

I turn and storm out before he can say another word, dragging Nikolai a little too quickly behind me. The hallway blurs at the edges as I move fast, almost tripping over my own feet as I reach Nikolai's bedroom and slam the door behind me.

I lock it, though I know it won’t stop him. It’s a useless gesture to claim some small piece of control. I dig into my pocket and pull out the burner phone as Nikolai runs over to his bed with a book and climbs onto it.

My fingers tremble as I dial the number of my father's contact. He hasn't responded to my message, but I need to know if I have a way out. It connects on the first ring to a gruff, gravelly voice I'm not expecting.

"You ready?" the voice on the other end asks.

"Tell me what you have," I say. I'm not sure how conversations like this normally go, but I'm less afraid of thisman than I am of being trapped by Rolan Vetrov for the rest of my life.

"Identities are clean—Canadian, you and the boy. The identities come with new names and completely fabricated records. They’ve even backdated school enrollment and created medical files to support the story. Everything you requested is ready. All that remains is for you to arrive and collect the documents."

I close my eyes. My voice barely holds steady. "The address?"

"I’ll text you the location," the man says. "Watch for a number you don’t recognize. It won’t come twice."

"Thank you," I whisper, cradling the phone as if someone walking past might hear me and come take it.

"Don’t wait too long. The city’s shifting fast."

The line goes dead. I set the phone down slowly and walk to the wardrobe to lean for stability. The cash is still in my apartment back in Mytishchi, stashed behind the loose panel under the kitchen sink. I haven’t touched it in weeks. The night Rolan paid me, I took the envelope home and hid it beforeBatyacould smell it out and gamble it away. He never saw a ruble of it. In fact, I didn’t even count it. I just shoved it deep where no one would look. I’ll have to stop there before we run. It’s enough to get us started.

Feeling a little more in control now, I sit down on the edge of Nikolai's bed and watch him. His innocence is a fragile, breakable thing, and I know I’ve already failed to protect it.

He looks up at me with a smile. "Mama, look. This one’s the fastest." He points in his book at a cheetah racing a rabbit. The way he shifts from tension to happiness is enviable.

"I see," I say softly.

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