Page 104 of Bratva Baby

I grab his jacket with both hands. “Don’t laugh if it hurts.”

“Don’t be funny while I’m bleeding.”

“I can’t turn off excellence.”

Kolya passes behind Anton carrying a folder and mutters, “I’m surrounded by lunatics.”

Yuri hears him and says, “You work for Reznikov. That was already true.”

I don’t mean to laugh, but I do, and the sound shakes on the way out. Anton notices immediately, because Anton notices everything I’d rather hide. He slides one arm around my waist and pulls me close, careful enough not to press his wound against me, firm enough to make my body understand he’s here.

His mouth brushes my temple. “You called Grigor.”

“Yes.”

“You got Lazlo’s proof through Zhenya.”

“Yes.”

“You made Maks believe in a fake package while using the real one to turn his father against him.”

“That is a fair summary.”

“You walked into the yard knowing Yuri was coming through the side.”

“I hoped Yuri was coming through the side.”

His eyes close for a second. When they open again, that dark humor is back, faint but alive, and it does more for me than any doctor could. “Sofiya.”

“What?”

He looks at me, bleeding, furious, proud, and far too handsome for a man who needs stitches. “You have truly impressed me.”

I blink.

Then I lean closer, because if he’s going to say something like that after all this, he deserves trouble. “Only now?”

His mouth curves. “Don’t get greedy.”

“I took down my cousin in a freight yard while carrying your child and wearing your coat.”

“Yes,” he says, eyes warming in a way that makes my stomach flip. “And you still held the gun badly.”

I shove his chest lightly, then panic when he winces. He catches my hand before I can pull away and brings my knuckles to his mouth. “Don’t start fussing,” he says.

“I’m not fussing. I’m considering whether you’re too injured to yell at.”

“I’m never too injured for you.”

“That’s unfortunately romantic.”

His mouth brushes my knuckles again. “Get used to it.”

Behind us, Maks shouts something as Yuri’s men force him through the side doors. It sounds ugly, desperate, and far away from the center of my life now. I don’t look back.

My father is still dead.

That doesn’t change.