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“Well, it should.”

“We’ll agree to disagree.”

“Viktor, come on. This isn’t some member of another gang that he’s teaching a lesson to. It’s his brother. If he hurts him, he won’t only lose Konstantin, but also Karina and Kristina and his niece in her belly.”

“You’re saying that as if he didn’t think about the consequences before deciding to do this.”

“That’s way worse! Does that mean he doesn’t care, even if he causes irreparable damage to his family?”

“Why are you asking me? Ask him. Besides, are you sure you’re his wife?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“Is there something I’m supposed to know?”

“Possibly.”

“Like…”

“I’m not at liberty to tell.”

Ugh. He’s as infuriating as Kirill sometimes. No wonder they get along so well.

“Stop the riddles, Viktor—”

My words are cut off when a bang sounds, and the car swerves to the right. I hold on to the seatbelt as Viktor tries to keep it on the road.

“We’re hit in the rear tires. Stay down!” Viktor grabs my head and shoves me forward. I fumble for my gun and then the extra ammunition I know we always have in the glove compartment.

I push at Viktor’s hand, and he has to release me, or he’ll lose concentration on the road.

His blazing eyes fly to me. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a shot while you drive.”

“Don’t even think about it. If you get hurt, Boss will kill me.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your boss when both of us are in danger right now.”

I slide the window down and take a few shots at the two vans that are following us. But they hit us with more since they have damn rifles.

Shit.

“Just stay the fuck down!” Viktor’s harsh words echo in the air.

He struggles with driving a faulty car while trying to evade the shower of bullets directed at us.

We can’t hold on forever.

My ammunition is running low, and my adrenaline level is being affected by damn fear.

I wouldn’t be this scared under different circumstances, but now that I’m carrying a child, I can’t go all out or else he’ll be hurt.

My aim isn’t as great as I want it to be, and my heart is thundering harder in my chest.

Finally, we swerve to the side of the road, but thankfully, Viktor manages to stop the car right before we tumble off a steep cliff. It teeters on the edge, threatening to take us down the abyss.

We exchange looks and rush out at the same time. The moment we’re out, the car falls to the ground below.

Before we can release a breath, however, the two vans stop not far from us.

“Run,” Viktor says as he holds his gun with both hands. “I’ll take care of this somehow.”

“No way in hell. You’ll just get killed.”

“Don’t be an idiot. If you stay here, you’ll also be killed.”

“I’ll be killed even if I run away now.”

“At least try.” He glares at me. “Kirill won’t forgive me if you die.”

“He has nothing to forgive when you’re also dead, genius.”

“Aleksandra…” he warns.

“What?”

“You’re the Pakhan’s wife. Act like it, for fuck’s sake.”

“And you’re his senior guard. You think he can function without you?”

He releases a long breath, but there are no more words exchanged as several men step out of the vehicle.

I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry you were conceived to stupid parents who live on adrenaline and can’t protect you.

Tears cling to my eyes at the thought of not meeting my son. Not holding him in my arms. Or kissing his cheeks.

On the bright side, we’re going together.

The last thought that comes to mind is Kirill. I hate that I won’t see him one last time, or that the last time I saw him, I glared at him, or that—

My thoughts scatter when an elegant Mercedes stops behind the vans.

The person who comes out of it causes my lips to part.

Babushka…?

25

KIRILL

Let’s say everything is going according to plan.

Well, not every single thing, per se, considering Sasha hates me and is probably counting the days until she can leave me.

The leaving part won’t be happening—just saying.

She can be mad at me all she wants. She can criticize my methods and forbid me from touching her for three whole blasphemous days.

She can delude herself into thinking that she can leave me if she chooses to, but in reality, however, none of that nonsense will take place.

The more she insists on that, the faster I’ll come up with solutions to make her stay.

If she hates me for it, then so be it.

I’d rather be hated than be forced into a life without her.

I’ve been there, done that, and the mere thought of those two months from hell still terrorizes me.

Sasha has always been important to me in one way or another, but it wasn’t until I thought I’d lost her that I realized she’s more important than the air I breathe.

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