Page 117 of Unbroken

“I love you,” he whispers, his lips brushing the curve of my ear. “I love you so much. Listen… if we had more time—if we could do this a different way—I would've done it right. But you're having a baby, and there’s one thing I can tell you about the world I live in—things happen fast. We move fast. We don’t have the luxury of slow decisions. We've got more on the line than the average human,” he says, giving me that crooked smile that’s equal parts apology and warning and so sweet and hot my chest warms.

I think of his little boy sleeping in the next room and the tiny life growing inside me. Our baby. A mix of both of us. “How do we protect them?” I ask, my voice wobbling with fear I can’t hide. “I don’t even know how to be a mother… You know I didn’t have a good example, and you know why?—”

“We don’t do it alone,” he cuts in, voice rough, almost growling. “We have family. Protection. Yeah, we’re in danger—I won’t sugarcoat it—but we’re not in this alone. Look at Luka. Who took care of him when it was just us? When we needed someone?”

He’s right. His brothers did. All of them. They stepped in, no hesitation. Because that’s what family does. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being around his world, it’s this: They protect each other with fire and fury.

People like to say it takes a village. But for the Kopolov Bratva, it takes an army.

His phone buzzes—once, twice, three times, harsh and insistent. A jarring reminder that his time isn’t his own anymore. And because I’m with him now, neither is mine. He answers to Rafail. To the call. To the cause. And I’m only beginning to grasp what that means.

He glances down at the screen, brows knitting. “Zoya?” he says aloud, confusion slicing through the air like a blade. Not one of his brothers. That alone makes my stomach twist with dread.

He holds my gaze as he taps the answer button and puts it on speaker. “Zoya, I’m here. I’m with Ruthie.”

Her voice is shattered, full of tears. “Vadka…” she sobs. I sit up straighter, my heartbeat pounding in my throat.

He stills beside me, his body going tense, every muscle drawn tight as steel wire. His voice drops, low and lethal. “What happened?”

“The warehouse,” she chokes. “They attacked the warehouse. Rafail was there, Vadka. They all were?—”

My hand flies to my mouth, and my heart slams against my ribs.

“Which warehouse?” he asks, terrifyingly calm.

“The one Semyon took over. Across from Anya’s bakery. Near the wharf. It’s in flames. No one’s answering their phones. I ran… I found my phone, and I called you. You were the first— I didn’t know who else?—”

“I’m on my way. Stay calm. Where are you now?”

She tells him. He stands, looks me in the eyes, and it’s like the air between us thickens, scorches.

“I have to go.”

“I’ll go with you?—”

“No.”

I flinch. He’s never raised his voice to me before. But this man before me… he’s something else now. An avenging angel, eyes blazing, fury radiating off him in waves so intense I almost step back. Even though I love him—god, Ilovehim—I can barely breathe in the face of that storm.

He climbs onto the bed, kneeling so we’re face to face, his hand reaching out.

“My son is in the next room. And you—you’re carrying our baby.” He points at me, deadly serious. “Protect them, Ruthie. That’s your job. While I go find my brothers.”

I reach out, pressing my palm to his chest. “I don’t want you to go.” My voice cracks. “There has to be another way. Someone else?—”

“She called me. Because she trusts me. This is what it means.”

Protection. Love. Loyalty. Family. And all the danger that comes with it.

I watch him arm himself—gun, blade, phone, keys. His whole body humming with violent purpose.

“Believe me when I tell you,” he says, head down, not looking at me, “I don’t want to leave you. But it’s the only way to keep you safe right now. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Of course.”

I grab his shirt, yank him down to me, and kiss him. Hard. Bruising. A kiss full of desperation and rage and aching love. I want to be the last thing he feels. The only thing he remembers.

“Come back to me,” I command.

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