Page 40 of Pregnant with Bratva Twins
I slip onto the bus, clutching my bag, the ultrasound picture pressed flat against my chest. As the engine rumbles to life, I stare out the window at the world flying by and try to believe, just for a moment, that I’m moving toward somethingbetter. That there’s a future where I’m not hunted, where my children are safe, where I am free.
Hope is a fragile thing, and fear is patient. As the bus speeds toward the horizon, I can only pray that I am faster than the man chasing me, and strong enough for the lives I carry.
The bus rumbles through the early morning haze, carrying me farther from everything I’ve ever known. I stare at my reflection in the window—pale, drawn, haunted—and rest a hand on my belly, silently counting the miles and the heartbeats.
The world outside blurs by: empty lots, crumbling brick storefronts, sleepy diners.
I don’t know where I’ll get off, just that I can’t stop yet. Not while I can still feel Markian’s presence at my back, cold and relentless, a shadow in every town.
I turn the ultrasound photo over in my lap, tracing the faint outline of two tiny forms. A fierce, trembling love blooms through the fear. I will find a way to protect them. I will give them something better, even if all I have is hope and borrowed time.
As the bus rattles on, I close my eyes and breathe deep, making promises in the silence. Promises I will keep, no matter what it takes. For the first time, determination drowns out the dread.
Chapter Twenty - Markian
Three and a half years. That’s how long she’s been gone. Sometimes, it feels like yesterday: her scent lingering on the pillow, the soft click of her footsteps in the hall. Other times, it’s as if she never existed at all, just a fever dream stitched together from longing and rage. But the city remembers.
The Bratva remembers. Every ruined safehouse, every broken informant is a scar on this empire, all because of the girl I let slip through my fingers.
Tonight, the mansion is quiet. Too quiet. I stand by the window, drink in hand, staring at the city lights beyond the gates. Behind me, the echoes of the past haunt the halls.
My men still answer my call, still bow their heads and follow orders, but I know they talk. Alexei calls it obsession. Lui calls it madness. I call it unfinished business.
There’s a soft knock at the door. I turn, half expecting the ghost I can never catch. Instead, it’s Alexei, impeccable as ever, jaw set, suit pressed. He lets himself in, closing the door behind him with a sigh.
“You’re missing dinner,” he says. “People are starting to ask questions. Honestly, some have been asking for a while.”
I laugh, bitter. “Not my problem.”
Alexei pours himself a drink, moves to stand by my side. “You could at least try. Make it easier for both of us.”
“Would you?” I shoot back. “If you’d lost—” I stop, clenching my jaw.
He shrugs. “I wouldn’t burn half the city down for someone who ran from me.”
“You’re not me,” I say quietly.
He studies me, eyes sharp. “No. I’m not, but you can’t keep doing this, Markian. She’s gone. You’ve turned every friend into an enemy, every asset into a liability. How many more bridges will you burn before you accept it?”
I drain my glass. “I’ll stop when I find her.”
A muscle jumps in Alexei’s jaw. “And if you don’t?”
I say nothing, just watch the rain streak down the window. He gives up, leaves me to my ghosts.
Later, I walk the halls alone. I hear voices from the dining room. The woman I’m seeing, Elena, laughing quietly as she serves dinner to my guests, the clatter of silverware, polite conversation about politics and money and nothing that matters. I don’t care about her. I never will. She’s just a name on a contract, a pawn in someone else’s game.
I drift toward the old guest wing, the one that used to be hers. I open the door, breathing in dust and memory. The sheets are fresh, but the room is empty, cold. I touch the dresser, the faded photograph still tucked in the frame. For a moment, I almost see her curled on the bed, reading, glancing up at me with those wary eyes. I wonder if she hated me more than she feared me, in the end. I wonder if she ever loved me at all.
***
Alexei finds me there one night days later, standing in the dark.
“Boss.” He doesn’t ask what I’m doing. He’s seen it before. “There’s nothing left here. She’s not coming back.”
“You don’t know that,” I snap.
He sighs. “No, but I know you. You’re tearing yourself apart for a ghost.”
