Page 186 of The Enemy Protector

“What?” he asks, catching me staring.

“Nothing. I’m just...happy.”

His expression softens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He sets Kirill down carefully, then Anton. Both boys immediately crawl over to the toy pieces scattered across the floor, more interested in the plastic than whatever the toy is supposed to become.

Sergei pulls me against him, his arms wrapping around my waist.

"I love you," he says quietly. "I made a promise to keep you alive. I didn't know keeping you alive would be the only thing that made me want to live."

I don't have words for that. So I kiss him instead.

He kisses me back and I melt into it, my hands coming up to thread through his hair.

When we break apart, I’m breathless. This is the only downside—I miss sex whenever the need arises.

He glances at them, clearly thinking the same thing. They’re both sitting on the floor, holding a piece of plastic and babbling to each other in their own language.

I rest my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Alive.

Anton starts crying. Not his hurt cry or his hungry cry. His “I want attention” cry.

I sigh. “I’ll get him.”

“I’ll put dinner in the oven,” he says. “Mariana made lasagna.”

“Perfect.”

We’ve both learned we’re not cooks. We’re passable but chasing two crawling and almost-walking boys is a full-time job. We don’t have a nanny, but Sergei has relented and hired a housekeeper who prepares a few meals a week for us. She’s Kirill’s sister, which is the only reason Sergei trusted her enough to be let into the house.

We’ve pulled back, but he’s still the pakhan. There will always be threats. We know it. We accept it.

If anyone tries to take this from us, they won’t survive.

I scoop up Anton, who immediately stops crying and grins at me. Manipulative little thing. Just like his father.

Kirill toddles over, not wanting to be left out. I somehow manage to pick him up too, settling both boys on my hips.

“Let’s give Dada some peace to make dinner,” I tell them. “How about a bath?”

I carry them upstairs, my heart so full it aches.

This is my life now. Board meetings and bath time. Empire building and bedtime stories. Violence and tenderness existing side by side.

I wouldn’t change a single thing.

I run the bath water, testing the temperature with my finger. I strip them down and place them in the tub.

They immediately splash and chew the toys.

I don’t care. I sit on the floor beside the tub and watch them play.

Everything I never thought I’d have.

Everything Sergei built with me.

Every single day, I choose this life we’ve built together from blood and violence and something that started as obligation but became love.

My father's legacy was bodies. Mine will be something my sons can inherit without apology.

I built an empire from the worst night of my life. And I'd burn it all down and start again if it brought me back here.