Page 70 of Bratva Bidder

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And I walk away.

16

KONSTANTIN

I don’t move.Not even after she’s gone. Not even after her words—One of them is suffering because of you—stop echoing and start embedding themselves into my ribs like shrapnel.

My pulse thunders, but my mind is still. Too still.

Twins.

One of them is suffering.

Because of me.

I’m still standing in the middle of the hallway, fists clenched, jaw aching from how tightly I’ve locked it. None of this makes sense.

And then?—

A sound. Soft. Hesitant. Barely louder than a breath.

“Mommy?”

I turn. Slowly. Mechanically.

And I see her. A little girl—maybe four, maybe five—standing a few feet away, peeking out from behind the corner where the waiting room meets the corridor.

Her hair is a rich chestnut, tumbling down in messy waves. She’s wearing a cartoon-print hoodie, sleeves too long for her arms. She clutches a small plush fox in one hand, its fur worn down from love.

And her face?—

God. It’s like a fist to the chest.

She looks exactly like my mother.

The curve of her cheek, the slope of her brow, the way her bottom lip pushes out when she’s nervous—it’s her. All of her.

I take a breath and realize I haven’t taken one since Nadya walked away.

The girl stares at me, blinking slowly. Her eyes are wide and cautious, but curious too. There’s no fear. Just…innocence. And that word still hanging in the air like a whisper:

Mommy?

But I know. With a certainty that frightens me.

She’s mine. Both of them are.

Nadya was never protecting herself.

She was protecting them.

My legs finally move. I crouch down slowly, keeping my hands open, loose.

“Hey,” I say, my voice lower now. “You lost?”

She hugs the stuffed animal tighter. “No,” she says. “I heard Mommy. But she’s not here now.”

I nod once. My throat is tight. “She’ll be back soon.”

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