Page 65 of Bratva Bidder
With my other hand, I hold a book. His favorite—The Tiger Who Came to Tea. I’ve read it so many times the spine is coming apart. He’s heard it so often he could recite it in his sleep, and sometimes he does.
I’m not even sure he’s awake now. But I read anyway, voice low and gentle, like my mother used to do for me when I was small.
Irina sits nearby, scrolling through her phone, quietly coordinating next steps with the hospital. She’s my shield, my backup, my rock.
Across the room, beneath a star-print fleece blanket, Mila stirs. She doesn’t make a sound at first. She stretches her arms and blinks, then silently slides off the cot and crosses the room in her socked feet. She crawls into my lap without a word and curls into my chest like she used to do when she was two.
I keep reading, pretending my voice isn’t shaking.
Mila lifts her head. “Is Kolya going to be okay?” she whispers, like she’s afraid if she says it too loud, it’ll make it worse.
I close the book. “I hope so, baby,” I whisper.
She lifts her head and looks straight at me. Her eyes—so big, so serious—hold something I haven’t seen before.
“But I don’t want hope,” Mila says. “I want a promise.”
It breaks me. I turn away so she won’t see the tears in my eyes.
I can’t lie to her. I can’t promise what I don’t know.
But I also can’t let her drown in fear.
“I’m doing everything I can,” I say, kissing her temple. “And I’m not going to stop. Ever. Okay?”
She doesn’t say anything. Just nestles into me again, her hand on my heart like she’s trying to hold it still.
I close my eyes, and for a moment, I just breathe. Her in my arms. Nikolai beside me. Irina sitting quietly in the corner.
My whole world, in one small hospital room.
And I’ll burn down everything to protect it.
I’ve been here for hours.
Irina gently reminds me of the time, but I don’t move. My body aches from the stiff hospital chair, but I’d rather ache than be away. Mila has fallen asleep again, tucked under my jacket like it’s a second blanket. Nikolai hasn’t stirred.
I press my lips to his knuckles. “I’m here, baby. Mommy’s here.”
The last few days have been madness. I’ve been stretched thin, desperate, slipping. I know it. I’ve taken risks I shouldn’t have. But when your child is sick, nothing else matters.
And thankfully I don’t have to worry about Konstantin. Two nights ago, after dinner, he dropped some news.
Konstantin stood near the window of his office, his silhouette backlit by the amber glow of the setting sun. His jacket was draped over the arm of a chair, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He’d been quiet since the call ended. Tense, focused.
I lingered in the doorway, half hoping he hadn’t noticed me yet.
But he spoke before I could announce myself. “I’ll be out of the city for a few days.”
I blinked. “Oh.”
He finally turned to me, his face unreadable. “Just business. You’ll be safe here.”
“Where are you going?” I asked carefully.
He picked up a glass tumbler from the table, swirled the contents once, then set it down without drinking. “South. The docks.”
That wasn’t an answer. And he knew it.
