Filthy Lies (Akopov Bratva Book 2)

The medical facility is a beehive of activity. Doctors and nurses swarm around me, checking vitals, starting IVs, examining Sofiya. They speak in urgent tones about blood loss, tearing, possible infection, so much jargon that drifts in one ear and out of the other.

Through it all, Vince never leaves my side. He stands like a sentinel at the head of my bed, his scowl daring anyone to suggest he move. When they take Sofiya for examination, his eyes track every movement, every person who touches her.

“She’s healthy,” the doctor finally announces. “Remarkably so, given the circumstances of her birth.”

The surge of relief makes me dizzy. Or maybe that’s the pain medication they’ve given me.

“And my wife?” Vince’s voice is thrumming with concern.

“Well, she’s dehydrated. Plus significant blood loss and some tearing that we’ve repaired. But with proper rest and care, she’ll make a full recovery.”

Vince’s shoulders sag slightly—the only outward sign of the tension releasing its grip on him.

They move us to a private room that looks more like a suite at the Four Seasons than any hospital ward I’ve ever seen before. Security personnel stand guard outside our door. The nurses bring Sofiya back to me, freshly bathed and wrapped in a proper blanket.

“She’s beautiful,” the night nurse says with a fond smile before leaving us alone.

Vince sits on the edge of my bed. I don’t think he’s blinked since he found us.

“I still can’t believe she’s real,” he says.

“I know.” I stroke Sofiya’s cheek with my finger. “She saved me, you know.”

He looks up, questioning.

“When I thought I couldn’t push anymore, when I thought I was going to die in that horrible place, I remembered whose child she is. Ours.” I shift in place, wincing at the pain. “The doctor who delivered her… is he okay?”

Vince’s expression darkens. “He’s being questioned.”

“He helped me,” I say quickly. “He saved Sofiya’s life. And mine.”

“Then he’ll be rewarded appropriately.” The ice in his voice sends a shiver down my spine. “Unlike the others.”

I don’t ask what happened to my captors. Those of them that lived, that is. I don’t need to. The cold fury in his eyes tells me everything.

Yet when he looks back at Sofiya, that fury melts away instantly, replaced by a tenderness so profound it makes my breath catch.

“May I hold her?” he asks hesitantly.

“Of course.”

I carefully transfer our daughter into his arms. He cradles her with such extreme gentleness, as if she’s made of the most delicate glass. His massive hands, capable of such violence, now support her tiny head with infinite care.

It’s so strange to see such damaged skin against such a perfect form of the same thing. Vince has tattoos and scars and sinew standing out like tension cables in his knuckles. Sofi is pure, soft, unblemished.

And yet somehow, they belong together.

“Hello, little one,” he whispers. “I’m your father.”

Sofiya blinks up at him. Her newborn blue eyes are unfocused but somehow seem to look straight into his soul.

“I will never let anyone hurt you,” he continues. “I swear it on my life.”

“She knows,” I say softly. “She already knows who you are.”

Vince looks up at me, his eyes suspiciously bright. “And who am I?”

“Her protector. Her father.” I reach out to touch his face. “The man who moved heaven and earth to find us.”

He turns his face into my palm, pressing a kiss there. “I was almost too late.”

“No.” I shake my head firmly. “You came exactly when we needed you most.”

Sofiya makes a small whimper, and Vince immediately adjusts his hold, rocking her gently. The sight of him so completely wrapped around our daughter’s tiny finger makes my heart swell in a way it will never undo.

He carefully returns Sofiya to my arms. I settle her against my chest, where she nuzzles instinctively.

“I never felt strong before today,” I muse after a comfortable silence passes us by.

“You’ve always been strong, Rowan,” Vince says. “From the first moment I saw you. But today…” He shakes his head, seemingly at a loss for words. “What you did—there is no greater strength than that.”

Tears fill my eyes. “I was so scared, Vince. So scared they would take her from me.”

“No one will ever take her from us.” The promise in his voice is absolute. “I won’t allow it.”

“Neither will I.” My arms tighten around Sofiya. “I would have killed that woman if she’d tried to take her. I would have done it without hesitation.”

Instead of being shocked by my admission, Vince nods with understanding. “That’s what it means to be a parent. To be willing to do whatever it takes.”

“Even terrible things,” I whisper.noveldrama

“Even terrible things,” he agrees. “But we do them so she never has to.”

Another silence swallows us up. It ought to feel heavy, this acknowledgment that we would cross any line to protect our child.

But it doesn’t feel heavy in the least. It feels like clarity. Like purpose.

He leans forward and presses his forehead to mine. Our breath mingles in the space between our faces. He smells like clean male sweat, like gunpowder, like Vince.

And for as long as he’s touching me, the world outside ceases to exist. There is no Bratva, no enemies, no blood feud.

Just us. Just family.

“I love you,” he whispers. “Both of you. More than I ever thought possible.”

“We love you, too,” I reply. “Always.”

I look at Vince’s hands again. They’re clean now, but not so long ago, they were spattered with blood—my captors’ blood.

For the first time, it feels like I’m understanding the shape his soul has taken—because mine has begun to take the same shape.

The darkness that lives inside him burns brightest when protecting what’s his. What’s ours.

“When they took her from my chest for those few seconds,” I whisper, throat raw, “I understood what makes you capable of such violence.”

Vince’s eyes meet mine. “And?”

“I’d burn the world down, too.”

He nods. He understands what I’ve become, because he has been that thing already for a long, long time.

We’re the same now.

God help anyone who threatens our daughter.