Page 78 of Twisted Pact
But I’m already moving toward the stairs, taking them two at a time. Nothing else matters except getting to her.
The bedroom door is closed but not locked. I knock once before pushing it open.
Mila sits on the bed with her back to me. Her shoulders shake with silent sobs.
“Zaika.”
“Don’t.” Her voice breaks on the word. “Just don’t.”
“We need to talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. This is a disaster. A complete fucking disaster.”
I walk around the bed so I can see her face. Tears stream down her cheeks, and her eyes are red and swollen.
“Hey.” I sit on the edge of the bed. “Look at me.”
“I can’t do this, Alexei. I can’t be pregnant right now. Not with everything else falling apart.”
“You’re not doing it alone.”
“Yes, I am. Because in a few weeks or a few months, the threats will be gone, and you won’t need to protect me anymore. You’ll go back to your life, and I’ll be a single mother with a criminal’s baby.”
“That won’t happen.”
“How can you promise anything when this whole relationship only exists because someone put a bounty on my head?”
I reach for her, but she pulls away.
“I need to be alone right now.”
“Mila—”
“Please. Just go.”
The dismissal cuts deeper than it should. I want to stay and hold her while she processes this news. I want to promise her that everything will be okay.
The look on her face tells me she won’t hear any of it right now.
So, I leave, closing the door behind me and I lean against it like I can somehow absorb her pain through the wood.
Pregnant.
The word echoes in my head as I walk downstairs. She’s carrying my child, and instead of joy, all I feel is a fierce, overwhelming need to eliminate every threat that could touch them.
My family.
21
Mila
I’m pregnant with a criminal’s baby, and there’s no way out.
The thought circles through my mind like a broken record as I stare at the concrete ceiling of the underground bunker. Six weeks. Dr. Orlov’s words replay in my head on repeat. Six weeks ago, Alexei took my virginity without either of us knowing what we were starting.
Now, I’m carrying his child.
A knock on my bedroom door interrupts my spiral. “Mila? Can we talk?”
