Page 84 of The Enforcer's Vow
Maksim nods, his jaw tightening slightly. "I hope so." I feel a twinge of ache in my chest knowing his father is lying in a bed across town struggling with his health, unable to see his grandchild christened.
"I'm certain of it," the priest replies firmly. "Family is everything, and you've built something beautiful here."
Rolan hands Elena back to me, and she settles against my chest with a contented sigh. The ceremony is over, but none of us seem eager to leave this sacred space. There's something about the chapel that feels removed from the rest of the world, protected from the harsh realities that exist beyond its walls.
"She'll never know what it cost to get here," I say quietly, gazing down at my daughter's perfect face.
Maksim's hand finds mine, our fingers folding together. "That's how we know it was worth it," he replies.
I think about the journey that brought us to this moment—the lies and betrayals, the violence and fear, the choices that carved away pieces of our souls. I think about Damir, about the brother I lost and the family that fractured under the weightof deception. I think about my parents, about the father who vanished and the mother who couldn't survive his absence.
But mostly, I think about the man beside me, about the love that grew from the ashes of our broken worlds. About the child in my arms, who will grow up knowing security and devotion and the kind of home I never had. About the future we're building together, brick by careful brick, on a foundation of truth and trust and unwavering commitment.
Elena yawns, a tiny sound that makes everyone smile. Her eyelids flutter, and I know she's fighting sleep with the determination she's inherited from both parents. I begin to rock her gently, humming a lullaby my grandmother used to sing—one of the few good memories I have from childhood.
"We should let her rest," Anya says softly, gathering up the diaper bag and smoothing the blanket we used earlier.
"In a moment," I reply, reluctant to break this spell of contentment.
The chapel feels timeless in the afternoon light, as if we could stay here forever, frozen in this moment of perfect peace. Elena's breathing evens out as sleep finally claims her, and I feel the familiar tug of maternal exhaustion mixed with overwhelming love.
"I never imagined this," I whisper to Maksim, so quietly that only he can hear.
"What?" he asks, his thumb tracing circles on my hand.
"Happiness," I admit. "Real happiness. The kind that doesn't come with conditions or expiration dates."
He brings our joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. "Neither did I."
Father Doroshev approaches us one final time, his expression warm with benediction. "God bless your family," he says simply. "May you find peace in each other and strength in your love."
"Thank you, Father," Maksim replies, and the two men shake hands.
We leave the chapel together in a small procession moving slowly through the afternoon light. Elena sleeps peacefully in my arms as her christening gown trails behind us like a river of silk and lace dancing in the wind. Anya walks beside me, her presence a comfort I've learned to appreciate over these past months. Rolan and Maksim follow, discussing something I can't quite hear.
This is home now, this place that once felt foreign and dangerous. I've learned to navigate its corridors, to find comfort in its routines, to build a life within its walls. It's not the home I imagined as a child, but it's real and it's ours, and that's enough.
Elena stirs in my arms, making the soft sounds that mean she's still fighting sleep. I pause on the path, adjusting her gown and preparing for the inevitable demands of feeding and changing and the countless small needs that define these early months of motherhood.
"She's perfect," I murmur, more to myself than to anyone else.
"She is," Maksim agrees, his arm coming around my shoulders. "And she's ours."
The words carry weight beyond their simple meaning. In this world we've inhabited, nothing is ever truly safe. Nothing is ever guaranteed. But this child, this love, this family we've built from the wreckage of our past—these things are ours to protect and nurture and cherish.
As we walk toward the house, I catch sight of our reflection in the windows—a family moving through the golden light, carrying our daughter toward whatever future awaits. It's not the ending I expected when I first approached Maksim with lies on my lips and desperation in my heart. But it's the ending we'veearned, the peace we've fought for, the love we've chosen over everything else.
Elena opens her eyes and looks up at me, and in that moment, I understand what Father Doroshev meant about God's love. It's not conditional or earned—it simply is, like the love I feel for this child, like the love that binds me to the man at my side. It's the kind of love that transforms everything it touches, that makes the past bearable and the future possible.
And for the first time in my life, I truly believe that everything is going to be all right.
