Page 49 of Pregnant with Bratva Twins
I know what’s coming; and I know, as his grip tightens and his eyes flick to the door, that nothing will ever be the same again.
The silence stretches until it feels like it could snap. I can’t breathe. The gun pressed under my ribs is real—his grip on my arm even more so—but I force myself not to flinch, not to show the fear that’s crawling up my throat. My whole body is wound tight, every muscle screaming to bolt for the girls’ door.
I don’t dare move.
And then, from the bedroom, there’s the softest creak of old hinges. A shuffle. The padded sound of small feet on wooden floor. I twist, just barely, and see Liana in the doorway, her bunny clutched to her chest, cheeks flushed with sleep. Her eyes, gray as rainclouds, blink up at us, heavy with dreams.
“Mama?” she whispers, her voice tiny, uncertain.
We both freeze—me in panic, Markian in something that looks like shock. He stiffens, the gun gone so fast it might never have existed. His hand falls to his side. He stands very still,staring at her, not blinking, as if he’s afraid the sight will vanish if he does.
Liana toddles forward, rubbing her eyes. “Mama, is it morning yet?”
Markian’s entire body is rigid, his gaze caught on the little girl with his eyes. In that moment, the world contracts, narrows, the war between us shrinking to a single fragile child in pajamas and a clutch of soft toy fur.
All the rage and certainty in his face dissolves, leaving only horror and awe.
I can feel him breathing—deep, through his nose, like he’s steadying himself on a ledge. He takes a step back, never looking away from Liana.
Then, before anyone can say a word, Sofia appears in the doorway, her blonde curls wild and luminous, mouth puckered in a sleepy frown. She blinks at the scene—her mother, a stranger, the tension thick as a storm about to break.
Liana’s head tilts. “Mama, who’s that?”
Markian’s face goes slack, then sharp, then something new altogether. I see the moment the truth crashes into him: not just one daughter, but two. His daughters. His blood. His legacy.
He sways where he stands, just for a moment, and then he sets his jaw, hard and unyielding. He looks at me, accusation blazing in his eyes, as if this moment—this truth—has cut him deeper than anything else ever could.
There is a kind of horror on his face. The realization that all those years, all that time, he missed everything. First steps. First words. First nightmares and birthdays and scraped knees. He missed every ordinary miracle, and it burns.
He takes another step back, as if the girls’ nearness could hurt him. His hands tremble, then fist. “They’re mine,” he says, voice rough and final, a judgment passed. Ruthless. Cold. “Both of them?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Twins.”
His expression turns steel cold. “I thought… you really haven’t let another man touch you since?”
“No.”
“I’m taking them both, and you, with me now.”
My whole body goes cold. “Markian, wait—please—” I reach for him, my fingers shaking so badly I can barely control them. “They’re too young. They need me. They don’t know you.”
His jaw works, rage and grief tangling in his features. He looks down at his daughters again, Liana staring back with wide, uncertain eyes. Sofia presses in beside her sister, suddenly shy, clutching her bunny to her chest.
“They’re mine,” he repeats, quieter now, but the steel in his tone is absolute. “You stole them from me. You had no right.”
Tears sting my eyes. I stand between him and the girls, every instinct in me screaming to shield them, to buy us time. “I did what I had to do. They’re safe here. They don’t know you, Markian. They’ve only ever known—” My voice breaks.
He shakes his head. His knuckles are white. His eyes, though—his eyes betray him. For one heartbeat, I see the pain there. The longing. The confusion. He’s so close to breaking, to something softer.
Then the walls snap back into place.
Liana peeks around me, her small hand tangling in my shirt. “Mama, are you okay?”
I force a smile. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Everything’s okay.”
Markian’s gaze flickers between us. “You taught them to forget me.” He spits the words like poison, but the edge is gone. It’s heartbreak now, stripped of all its armor.
“They never knew you,” I whisper. “You weren’t there; I had to keep them safe.”
