Page 39 of The Bratva Stalker and His Pregnant Bride

But Samuel doesn’t waste a single breath on the escape. His focus shifts instantly.

“Search the perimeter!” Samuel commands, his eyes wild with a feral, protective desperation. “Break down every lock! Check every corner! My son is here!”

The operation is fast, loud, and incredibly aggressive. The sound of metal splintering and heavy iron doors being kicked off their hinges echoes through the desolate yard. Samuel moves like a force of nature, abandoning any pretense of restraint, ripping open boarded-up windows and tearing through the dark, abandoned offices of the pier.

Then, a shout goes up from one of the guards near a row of decaying, shuttered boardwalk shops. “Boss! Over here! Padlock is freshly sheared!”

Samuel sprints toward the narrow shop, shoulder-charging the door with enough force to shatter the remaining frame. I scramble right behind him, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Inside the damp, shadowed interior of the abandoned shop, lying on a dirty pile of canvas tarps, is a small, still figure.

“Ethan!” I choke out.

We rush to his side. Our little boy is entirely unconscious, his head lolling to the side, his breathing shallow but steady. The sight of his limp body sends a fresh wave of panic rushing through me, heightening the raw urgency of the moment.

Samuel kneels down instantly. With a tenderness that contrasts sharply with his lethal demeanor, he scoops Ethan’s small body up into his massive arms, checking his pulse and tucking him tightly against his chest. “He’s breathing. He’s warm, but we need to get him to a hospital right now,” Samuel barks, prioritizing our son’s safety above everything else.

I’m completely overwhelmed, tears streaming down my face, but a fierce, maternal focus keeps my legs moving. I stay glued to Samuel’s side, my hand resting on Ethan’s back as we hurry out of the dark shop and back toward the idling SUVs.

Just as we reach the safety of the armored vehicle, the familiar, terrifying chime of my phone vibrates in my pocket.

With trembling fingers, I pull it out.

Unknown: You think you won because he’s in your arms? This is just the beginning, my darling. You cannot keep him safe from me forever. I’m still watching.

The words are cold, final, and dripping with a chilling promise of violence. The danger isn’t over; it’s simply shifted.

Ethan is cradled securely in Samuel’s arms, his breathing soft against his father’s shoulder, but as the heavy SUV doors slam shut and we speed away into the night, the terrifying uncertainty of the stalker’s promise looms over me like a dark, suffocating shadow.

Chapter 20 – Samuel

The sterile, chemical stench of the hospital corridor burns the back of my throat.

I pace the length of the private waiting wing, my boots striking the linoleum floor in a steady, aggressive rhythm. Outside, the world is dark, but inside, the fluorescent lights hum with a blinding, relentless intensity. The quiet here is absolute, a heavy, suffocating contrast to the roaring engines and splintering wood of the docks just an hour ago.

My brothers stand like dark, silent sentinels against the pale walls.

Lukyan has his arm wrapped tightly around Sofia, his expression carved from stone, his gaze locked on the double doors leading to the pediatric intensive care unit.

Beside them, Sebastian leans against a pillar, his jaw clenched, slowly spinning his lighter—a silent, dangerous tic that tells me he is ready to burn this city to the ground on my command.

Timofey sits in the corner, his tablet glowing in his lap, his fingers flying across the screen as he coordinates the security perimeter around the hospital.

The Rusnak family is here. The entire line is drawn.

Lukyan has told them everything about my son, and they’re ready to protect him and Ashley with their lives.

But my eyes only focus on Ashley.

She sits on the edge of a plastic chair, her head buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. Maya sits right beside her, a steady hand rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles, but Ashley is entirely unresponsive to the comfort.

She’s a statue of pure agony. Her silk robe is smudged with dirt and grease from the pier, and she looks so small, so devastatingly fragile in the harsh light.

Every protective, possessive instinct inside me screams to pull her into my lap, to force her to feel my warmth, but I keep my distance. I cannot offer her peace until I know our son is safe.

The heavy swing doors at the end of the hall finally click open.

The sound cuts through the silence like a gunshot. Instantly, the room shifts. I freeze. Lukyan steps forward. Sebastian pockets his lighter. Ashley snaps her head up, her eyes wide, bloodshot, and frantic with fear as she scrambles to her feet.