Page 171 of Ruined Vows
A baby. Vukan’s baby.
I try to speak, but the words don’t come. My mind races with everything—his bloodied hands, his whispered promises, the way he held me like he already knew we would be together forever. I’ve never felt this way before, and I sure as hell don’t know what forever looks like.
But now?—
“You don’t have to tell him yet,” Irina says gently, rising from her seat. “You don’t have to decide anything today. You just have to breathe.” She leans forward and squeezes my hand.
It’s motherly. It’s intimate and I like it. She’s a sweet woman, and I find her presence comforting.
It’s something my father didn’t teach me. I will be a better parent. If my childhood taught me anything, it’s what not to do to your children.
She steps beside me, her hand calm and confident on myshoulder. “Men like Vukan… they live in fire. But sometimes, fire makes life too.”
I look at her. My eyes are tearing. Fuck, I’m emotional.
Her expression softens. “He will come back.”
“How do you know?”
She smiles. “Because now, he has something waiting that even he can’t walk away from.”
My hand drifts to my stomach.
Still flat. Still silent.
But no longer empty.
I’m not ready for this. Not in the way women dream of being ready. But some part of me—a deep, secret, defiant part—wants this life to grow. I will protect my child. I’ll have a life that needs nurturing, and I excel at it.
I’m great with children and animals. Meatball is still alive and doing well. I want to tell him. But onlyifhe comes back.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
Irina squeezes my shoulder once. “Good. It means you love something enough to fear losing it.”
And for the first time since he left, there’s a fire and determination inside me that could move mountains.
He has to live. Not for revenge. Not for survival. Us.
He has to come home to us.
54
VUKAN
NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE
When I step through the compound’s outer gate, the ground is streaked in black and red.
Three silenced shots. Two blades. The guards never stood a chance. Radovan’s men were brutal—but not desperate.
And I was. Every blow I landed, I thought of her.
Her mouth. Her fire. Her silence when I told her I loved her.
It didn’t weaken me.
It fueled me.
