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Elena nods, suppressing a smirk. “Mr. Nicolaevich, we've gone over this. I've got everything noted down.”
“And the lullaby. The one Ana sings. You know it, right?”
She hums a few bars, her gentle voice filling the room. “Yes, I've got it.”
I run a hand through my hair, pausing when I realize I’ve started to fidget with my watch—a nervous tick of mine. "The monitor is fully charged, right? Just in case I want to check in?"
She holds it up with a patient smile. "All set. You and Ms. Zaitsev enjoy your evening out. Niko is in good hands."
Hesitating at the nursery door, I take a deep breath and peek inside. The soft light of the nightlamp casts a warm glow over the room, and there, in his crib, is my world. Niko, with his thick black hair, inherited from his mother, and my deep, rich brown eyes, is the perfect blend of Ana and me.
He stirs slightly in his sleep, little fingers clutching the edge of the blue dinosaur blanket. I step closer, the weight of the love I feel for him pressing warmly against my chest. The very essence of him, that unique mix of vulnerability and strength, brings a smile to my face.
"Look at you," I whisper, marveling at the miracle of our son. "You're going to be a king one day. Remember that."
His peaceful breathing is the only response, but it's enough. Taking one last glance, I silently promise him that I'll always be there, watching over him, keeping him safe.
With a heavy heart, I step out of the room, nodding to Elena. “Take care of him.”
Her nod is full of understanding. “Always.”
And with that, I make my way out. The strength of our family, the bonds we’ve forged, and the future we're building together in this vast, sprawling city is exciting and unmatched. I trust Elena because Andrei trusts her. But for now, it’s time for Ana and me to reclaim a bit of ourselves, even if just for an evening.
Navigating through the neon-lit streets of New York, my thoughts can't help but wander back to nearly two yearsago, the memories of that night lingering like fresh ink on parchment. The Wolf. The mere name sends a shiver down my spine, evoking memories of the near-fatal fight. Ana's grit, her indomitable spirit, fighting for her life, the poison coursing through her veins, putting her on the brink. It was an agonizing chapter of our lives that I'd kill to erase.
A dark chuckle escapes my lips as I think of the Romanians, especially Radu. A supposed ‘kingpin’ brought to his knees by the very woman he dared to hurt. The fact that his wife, quick to remarry a plain, law-abiding, legitimate businessman, was a delicious twist to the tale. An amusing end to the mighty Radu's legacy.
But tonight is not about them. It’s about Ana. Her comeback. A fresh start, a new chapter in the chronicles of Ana Zaitsev, the formidable fighter. My pulse quickens with a mix of anticipation and nerves. She's always been a force of nature, but after such a hiatus, how will she fare?
The car slows, pulling up to the venue, the thumping beat of music pulsing through the walls. The air is electric, filled with energy and excitement. This is underground New York, where the fights are brutal, raw, and draw crowds hungry for action. It's a world far removed from the glitz and glamour above, but it's a world where Ana thrives. A world where she's a legend.
I pay the driver and step out, adjusting the collar of my shirt. The entrance is guarded by two massive bouncers. Recognizing me, they nod, letting me pass without a word. A narrow hallway leads to a massive room that's alive with activity. The fight hasn't started yet, but the atmosphere is thick with anticipation.
Spotting a familiar face, I make my way to Andrei, who's talking animatedly with a few men. As I approach, he catches my eye and grins. "Ready for the show?"
I nod, my smirk matching his. "Always."
We talk strategy, odds, and potential outcomes. But truthfully, I'm only half-listening. My mind is on Ana. How she's feeling, her mindset, her preparations.
Suddenly, the crowd's roar reaches a crescendo, pulling me back to the moment. The lights dim, and a spotlight hits the cage. There she stands, my Ana, looking fierce, her body honed to perfection, every muscle taut, ready for battle. The sight of her sends adrenaline surging through my veins. This is her domain, her kingdom, and tonight, she's here to reclaim her crown.
In the midst of the crowd, our eyes meet. A fleeting connection amidst the sea of faces, and in that moment, all my worries dissipate. I see the fire in her, the unwavering determination, the sheer will to win. And I know, deep down, she's got this.
The dance of battle unfurls before me, a ballet of raw power and finesse. With each passing second, Ana moves with an elegance that belies the brutality of her strikes. There's a fire in her eyes, a determination that's impossible to miss. It's in the arch of her back, the set of her jaw, the way she pivots on the balls of her feet.
As her opponent launches a series of aggressive strikes, Ana parries and counters, her every movement proof of years of training. She's a symphony of controlled violence, a force of nature that leaves nothing but devastation in her wake. With each connection of her fists or feet to flesh, I feel a rush of pride. The very woman I married, the love of my life, is a force to be reckoned with.
Any lingering fears about her health, any whispers of doubt that tried to creep into the recesses of my mind, are banished. This is not a woman weakened by her past. This is the Tsarina, a legend reborn.
And then, in a blur of motion, it happens. With a series of rapid jabs followed by a powerful roundhouse kick, Anasends her opponent sprawling to the canvas. The room explodes in deafening applause, the thunderous roars of the crowd cementing her undeniable victory. My heart swells with pride, admiration, and a fierce love that's hard to put into words.
Before the announcer even declares the winner, before Ana's hand is raised in victory, I'm already on my way to her, pushing through the throngs of people. Every step is fueled by an overwhelming need to hold her, to wrap my arms around her and pull her close.
When she sees me heading toward her, she jumps off the platform, breaking into a sprint, quickly closing the distance between us. I meet her halfway, lifting her off her feet in a tight embrace. Her arms wrap around my neck, her face buried in the crook of my shoulder. I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, a rapid staccato that matches my own.
"Tsarina," I murmur into her hair, my voice thick with emotion.
She pulls back, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "Did you doubt me, Samuil?"
