Page 48 of The Mafia Bloodline
Volken and I sat together on the edge of our bed, the silence between us soft but full. He’d just come from a debrief with his brothers, his hands still faintly smudged with oil and ash, the faint metallic scent of blood still clinging to him. He was tense, I could always tell, even if his face didn’t show it. His fingers traced lazy circles along my back, grounding me, soothing in a way I didn’t deserve.
But the thing sitting in my chest refused to be soothed.
I swallowed, my hands gripping the hem of his shirt like a lifeline. My heart was beating too fast, my throat too tight. “Volken…”
He stilled immediately, head tilting just enough to catch my expression. Those pale, glacial eyes softened, just a little, though the wariness there never really went away. “What is it, little one?”
The nickname should have made me smile. Tonight, it just made my pulse spike harder.
I drew in a breath, tried to find words, but my mouth had gone dry. “I…uh…I need to tell you something.”
He turned fully toward me now, one arm looping around my waist, protective without even thinking about it. His brow furrowed. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, my voice breaking just enough to make it obvious that I wasn’t.
“Runa,” he murmured, tone firm, that one word a command and a comfort both. His relaxed muscles now tense as his expression sharpens with concern.
I took a breath, then another. My heart thudded painfully in my chest. There wasn’t going to be a perfect way to say it. “I think I’m pregnant.”
The world went very still. His hand froze mid-motion. For the first time since I’d known him, I saw something like disbelief flash through his eyes, it was sharp, raw, and unguarded. His lips parted, but no words came. He blinked once, as though trying to process what he’d just heard.
Then his voice dropped to a whisper, the words slow, disbelieving. “You’re… what?”
“Pregnant,” I said again, the word barely audible. My hands twisted in the fabric of his shirt. “I…I’m late, Volken. More than late. And the last few days, I’ve been nauseous, dizzy… it just, it fits. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but…”
He surged to his feet, pacing a few steps away before turning back, every inch of him coiled tension. His hands raked through his hair. “Gods, Runa…” He laughed once, a short burst, breathless, disoriented. “You’re sure?”
“Not… officially,” I said, my voice small. “But I know my body. And after what the doctor said about Lucien and Sorcha, I…”
He cut in, his voice low and fierce. “We’re calling the doctor.”
“Volken, it’s nearly sunrise.”
“I don’t care.”
I stood, catching his arm before he could stalk toward the door. “You need to rest. You’ve been fighting for three nights straight. He can come tomorrow.”
His eyes snapped to mine, glowing faintly in the half-light, the predator in him fighting the man. “Tomorrow might be too late.”
“For what?” I asked gently. “For me to still be pregnant? For you to still breathe? I’m not sick, Volken. I’m just…” My throat tightened. “Scared.”
That was what broke him. His shoulders slumped, his breath leaving him in a rush. He stepped closer, cupping my face in both hands. “I’m here for you little one,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Don’t ever think you have to face fear alone.”
My eyes burned. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” I admitted quietly. “I don’t even know what being with you really means yet, and now…”
He pressed his forehead to mine, his voice a low, rough vow. “It means you’re not alone. It means I’ll protect both of you. You and…” He hesitated, his lips twitching in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Our child.”
Something inside me broke and healed all at once.
“I’m dangerous, Runa,” he said after a moment, almost to himself. “This world, my bloodline, it’s built on war and monsters. And now there’s going to be… something innocent in the middle of it.”
I reached up, resting my hand against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palm. “Then we make sure it never touches the darkness,” I said softly. “We make sure they know love before they ever know fear.”
His eyes softened then, truly softened, and the hand on my waist tightened. “You’re stronger than I ever was,” he murmured. “Maybe that’s why fate gave you to me. To remind me what light looks like.”
I smiled faintly, tears finally slipping free. “Or maybe to make sure you never forget how to be human.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, bending to kiss me with slow, reverent, almost trembling lips. “You’re impossible.”
