Page 184 of Betrayal and Vows

"She looks happy," Anton murmurs as we sway to the soft music during our first dance as husband and wife. The small reception is being held on the terrace, string lights twinkling overhead as the sun sets.

"She is happy," I confirm, watching my mother chat animatedly with Kira and Anastasia. "For the first time in nearly thirty years, she's free to make her own choices."

Anton's arms tighten around me carefully. Even two months later, he's still regaining his full strength, though he pushes himself harder every day. The physical therapy sessions are brutal, but he attacks them with the same single-minded determination he once brought to missions.

His goal is simple: be strong enough to protect his family.

"Any regrets?" he asks, his blue eyes searching mine.

"About marrying you? Never." I reach up to straighten his tie, a deep blue that matches his eyes perfectly. "Though I do regret that it took us this long to get here."

"We're here now," he says simply. "That's all that matters."

The playlist Kira put together for us switches to a slow song. I rest my head against Anton's chest. His heartbeat is strong and steady beneath my ear, a sound I never take for granted after hearing the flatline in that hospital room.

We both still have nightmares from that day.

He wakes up in a cold sweat.

I wake up screaming his name.

I pray we will have worked through the nightmares before our child is born. I can’t imagine waking up our baby with my screams.

They are fewer and fewer, but sometimes it feels like I’m right back there in that moment.

"How are you feeling?" I ask. "Honestly."

"Good," he says, then catches my skeptical look. "Really. Better than I have in years. Every day I get a little better.”

Anton has suffered from nightmares since childhood—violent dreams about his mother's death, about the things he was forced to do at the Center. His nightmares have evolved. Maybe one day they will all be gone.

He brushes his lips across my temple. “For the first time in my life, I'm not afraid of what tomorrow might bring. I used to go to sleep wondering if I'd wake up, if someone would finally put a bullet in my head. Now I wake up excited to see you, to feel the baby kick, to argue with Dmitri about nursery colors."

The mention of the baby makes me smile. "Speaking of which, he insists we need to start preparing the nursery soon."

"Dmitri doesn't even know what gender the baby is yet."

"That hasn't stopped him from buying things." I laugh, thinking of the pile of packages that arrive daily—toys, clothes, books, everything a child could possibly need. "Yesterday he brought home a rocking horse. A rocking horse, Anton. The baby isn't even born yet."

"He's nesting," Anton says with amusement. "Like a pregnant woman."

"Don't let him hear you say that."

"Too late," Dmitri's voice cuts through our conversation as he approaches with two glasses of champagne—sparkling cider for me. "And for your information, I'm not nesting. I'm preparing. There's a difference."

"What's the difference?" I ask, accepting my glass.

"Nesting is instinctual and messy. Preparing is strategic and organized." He grins. "I’m making sure you two don’t forget anything.”

“We’re the parents,” Anton reminds him.

"I take my uncle duties seriously."

As the evening winds down and our guests begin to leave, I find myself standing at the edge of the terrace, looking out over the grounds. The estate feels different now—not like a prison from my childhood, but like a home we're choosing to build together.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Anton joins me, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"Just thinking about how different everything is now." I lean back against his chest. "Two months ago, I thought my life was over. Now..."