Page 66 of Marrying the Pakhan

She runs.

The second man lunges for her anyway, faster than she is, and for one suspended, horrifying second, I genuinely believe I’m about to watch someone take her right in front of me.

Then everything happens at once.

Two men in plain clothes I vaguely recognize from around the property these last weeks come out of nowhere, tackling the second man before he can close the distance. A third appears from somewhere near the building’s entrance, moving with the same economical, brutal efficiency I’ve only ever seen once before, the night I watched Viktor step off a stage he never actually danced on.

The parking lot fills with sound all at once: shouting, a car alarm someone must have triggered in the chaos, a teacher somewhere behind me screaming for everyone to get inside. It all blurs together, disconnected, like I’m watching it happen to someone else through glass.

The man holding my arm releases me the second he realizes what’s happening, shoving me hard enough that I stumble backward, and turns to run.

He doesn’t get far. One of Viktor’s men catches him before he reaches the dark car, and what happens next is fast and controlled and nothing like the movies, no drawn-out struggle, just efficient, decisive force that has both men face down on the pavement within seconds, restrained, not going anywhere.

I’m on my knees before I fully register sitting down, one hand braced against the asphalt, the other pressed protectively over my stomach, gasping air that doesn’t feel like it’s actually reaching my lungs.

“Ginger.” My voice barely works. “Ginger, where’s Ginger?”

“She’s here, she’s safe, she made it inside.” One of the men, the one who tackled the second attacker, crouches beside me, voice steady, businesslike in a way that somehow helps ground me even through the panic. “Are you hurt? The baby?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, I need to see her, I need to see her.”

He helps me to my feet, keeping one arm around me for support, and we make it to the school entrance where Ginger’s standing frozen just inside the doors, the front office assistant crouched beside her, both of them staring out at the parking lot in shock.

The second Ginger sees me, she launches herself forward, and I catch her, sinking back down despite every protest my body’s currently making, holding her so tight I probably hurt her, though she doesn’t complain.

“You’re okay,” I say, over and over, more for myself than her at this point. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re safe.”

I feel her whole body shaking against mine, small and violent, the particular trembling of a child who’s just learned something about the world she can never fully unlearn.

“Those men,” she says, voice small, shaking. “Why did that man grab you?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

“Was it because of Grandma and Grandpa?”

The question lands like a blow, and I don’t have an answer now. Not one I trust myself to give her right now, not with police lights still flashing across the parking lot behind us.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay? Right now, I just need to hold you for a minute.”

She doesn’t push, burying her face against my shoulder instead, and I hold her exactly as long as she needs, ignoring the ache already building in my lower back from sitting on hard pavement this far along.

But I do know, or at least I know enough now to understand exactly whose men those were, exactly what months of vague explanations and half-truths were actually protecting me from. The knowledge sits in my chest like something physically heavy, crushing whatever remained of the fragile safety I’d been quietly building around this family for months.

Police arrive within minutes, then Viktor, moving faster than should be humanly possible, face white with a fear I’ve genuinely never seen on him before, not once, not even at the courthouse.

He drops to his knees in front of both of us, hands shaking as he checks Ginger over, then me, then presses his palm flat against my stomach like he’s checking for himself that everything’s still intact.

“I’m okay,” I manage. “We’re okay. Viktor, we’re okay.”

He pulls both of us into his arms, holding on so tight it’s almost painful, and I feel him shaking too, the first time I’ve ever felt him lose that control entirely, not even at the wedding, not even the day I told him about the baby.

“I should have told you everything weeks ago.” His voice breaks completely, no composure left at all. “I should have gotten both of you somewhere safe the second I confirmed the surveillance. I let this happen. I let this get this close.”

“Not now.” I grip his hand hard enough that he actually focuses on me instead of spiraling. “Get us home. Get us somewhere safe. Then you tell me everything, right now, tonight, no more waiting.”

“Everything,” he agrees. “I promise you, everything.”

An officer takes a brief statement from me right there in the parking lot, gentle, given my visible state, promising a full follow-up once we’ve actually had time to process what happened. I answer what I can, my voice steadier than I feel, Ginger pressed against my side the entire time, refusing to let go of my hand for even a second.