Page 13 of Lethal Devotion
He sent me on a job that was supposed to be simple. I was meant to collect a debt from a man who'd been skimming from one of Victor's businesses, threaten him into paying up what he’d stolen. The idea was to leave him with some broken fingers and a warning to consider himself lucky that he was just injured, broke, and unemployed, not tortured and dead. But the man was smart enough to expect that someone was coming, and his friends didn’t appreciate the Bratva’s methods.
I was a scrappy kid back then, and a good fighter. But I couldn’t beat five-on-one. The beating I took that night nearly killed me, and the internal damage was extensive. By the time Victor’s men found me and got me to the family doctor, I was told later that I was lucky I survived at all. I needed surgery, and my recovery was long, full of infection and pain and endless days in a haze of medication.
When I was lucid again, the doctor made it clear that children would never be in my future. At the time, I was too young to care about more than the fact that not only was I alive, but that Victor had paid for my medical care, and not thrown me out on my ass while I was recovering. He was a brutal but intelligent man—he knew that my loyalty would be permanent, after that. And it was. I was his faithful, loyal man until the day he died. I only ever went behind his back once, to help his son get his wife, Valentina, back.
I was older, in my early twenties, when I realized what I’d lost. I’d been dating a woman at the time, still young enough to think that a man like me, who lived the life I lived, could have a wife and a family. She left me when she found out that I couldn’t give her children. And when Victor found out about it, he laughed.
He said it was probably for the best—that a man like me wasn’t meant to be a father anyway, and neither was he. That he had a sonbecause he needed an heir, not because he wanted children, and that the life I could give a wife and family wasn’t one they’d ever be satisfied with.
He reminded me that the only family I needed was the one he’d given me. And that was the end of it. I believed him. For over a decade and a half, I've believed him.
I threw myself into my work, into proving myself worthy of the second chance that Victor had given me, into becoming the perfect weapon for the Abramov Bratva. I learned to kill without hesitation, to inspire fear with a look, to bury every soft emotion so deep that I sometimes forgot they ever existed. I told myself I didn't want a family, didn't need the complications that came with caring about someone more than the job. That my purpose, my life, my family was the one I’d been given when Victor Abramov plucked me off the street, and then saved my life a second time.
Standing here, looking at Sienna holding her son, I don’t know what to feel, or say. There’s something strange in my chest, in my gut, a roiling sensation in my body that makes me feel off-balance, uncertain of what to do. I don’t like it, and I revert to what’s comfortable for me, what I know. Coldness. Anger. Purpose.
“So you thought this was the best way for me to find out?” I narrow my eyes at her. “I agreed to protect you. Just you. This wasn’t part of the deal.”
Her eyes widen, and I see her arm around Adam tighten. “Well then,” she says coolly, her eyes snapping fire as she stares at me, “then you might as well go file for an annulment and leave us here. You’re insane if you think I’m going anywhere without my child.”
She’s holding her ground.Of course she is.I had a shitty childhood, but that’s no reason to think that this mother would leave her child. If she would, then she’s not the kind of woman who’d be worth all the work I’ve put into saving her.
Still…this wasn’t part of the plan. I didn’t even begin to imagine that there might be someone other than her in the equation.
Because you didn’t think. For the first time since you woke up from that beating, you didn’t think.She could have had a boyfriend. A fiancé. Agoddamn husband. She could have had three kids. I don’t know anything about her, didn’t ask her anything about herself. I just dragged her straight to the altar out of some wild, protective instinct to keep her from being on the wrong end of a mafia bullet before the sunrise, and I never stopped to think that she has a life that she’s leaving behind.
And now she’s calling my bluff. Either I walk away from this woman, leaving her and her son to face what’s coming alone, or I accept that protecting her means protecting him too.
It’s not really a choice. I’ve already committed to protecting her, and now that there’s a child in the mix—whoever’s coming for her won’t leave him alive. I can’t abandon them both. The thought of Sienna in their hands already ignited some long-dormant protective instinct in me, but the thought of those animals getting their hands on this boy, Adam—something violent surges through me. It's an unfamiliar feeling, this need to shield someone who isn't mine, who I barely know. But I can’t ignore it.
It’s not forever,I remind myself.Just long enough to keep her—them—safe.
My phone buzzes. I snatch it out of my pocket, answering. Konstantin’s voice comes over the line.
“Damian. Where are you?” he asks sharply, and I switch to Russian.
“I’ll be back soon. Just tying up some loose ends.”
“You’re not usually this distracted. What’s going on? Is there something I’m not aware of?—”
“I’ll update you when I’m back. It won’t be long.” I glance over at Sienna, whose brow is furrowed as she gently sways back and forth, clearly doing all she can to keep the boy asleep through all of this. “Within the hour, I think.”
“We’ll talk in the morning.” Konstantin pauses. “Valentina isn’t feeling well. Get back to the estate and we’ll discuss what happened first thing.”
“Sure thing, boss.” I hang up as the line go dead, glancing back towhere Sienna is standing. “Get what you need,” I tell her, switching back to English. “We’re leaving.”
Relief flashes across her face. “I have everything,” she says softly, shifting the bags on her shoulder. “Everything I need for now, anyway.”
I step forward, taking the duffel bag and swinging it over my shoulder, careful not to impede my movement or my ability to draw and shoot. I look at her, trying to process what I’ve just taken on—the responsibility that I’ve shouldered. It was one thing when it was just her. Now I'm responsible for a child—a boy who will need things I don't know how to provide, stability I'm not sure I can offer.
Just for now,I repeat in my head, and motion for her to follow me. “Let’s go.”
I see her glance around the shabby apartment one more time, and I can see that however bad of shape this place is in, it’s her home. It’s the one place she felt safe, and I know all too well how it feels to have a place that was once a haven become somewhere that you have to flee. She’s having to leave behind everything familiar, everything that used to be safe, and trust a stranger with her life and the life of her son.
I’m not insensible to how difficult that must be.
The trip downstairs is tense. I watch every corner, every shadow as we make our way down the stairwell. I glance back periodically, seeing Sienna rubbing Adam’s back with one hand, keeping the boy calm as we head down to the parking lot. He seems sleepy enough to not be bothered by what’s going on, which is a relief—the last thing I need to deal with right now is a frightened, crying child.
When we reach the parking lot, I breathe slightly easier. The Mercedes sits where I left it, untouched. But as Sienna approaches the vehicle with Adam in her arms, a new problem presents itself.
