Page 61 of The Bratva Stalker and His Pregnant Bride

“Hey, buddy,” I whisper back, lifting my arm and beckoning him over. “Come here.”

Ethan doesn’t hesitate. He scrambles across the rug and climbs onto the mattress, throwing himself into the space between us. Ashley wraps her arms around him, pulling him close, burying her face in his hair. I wrap my arm around them both, sealing them against me.

“You’re here,” Ethan murmurs, his small hands clutching Ashley’s pajama shirt. “You promised you’d be here.”

“I always keep my promises, Ethan,” I say, my chin resting on the top of his head. I look over at Ashley. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, but they are happy ones. She reaches out, her fingers tangling with mine over our son’s back, squeezing tightly.

We’re here. We’re whole.

By afternoon, the penthouse feels more lived-in than it ever has.

The sterile, perfectly curated lines of the kitchen are cluttered with the wreckage of a chaotic family breakfast. Sticky syrup coats the counter, half-empty glasses of orange juice sit by the sink, and a stack of colorful drawings Ethan insisted on taping to the stainless-steel refrigerator flutters in the draft.

I stand by the counter, holding a mug of black coffee, watching Ashley teach Ethan how to properly fold a paper airplane at the dining table. The sound of their laughter fills the high-ceilinged room, chasing away the last lingering shadows of the night before.

There will still be details to handle. Investigations, legal statements, security upgrades. My world will always have its dangers. But as I watch Ashley laugh, the sound light and free, I know those dangers will never touch them again. The chaos hasn’t disappeared, but I have built a fortress around this family that nothing can breach.

Ashley looks up, catching me staring. She offers a soft, private smile—the kind meant only for me—and gestures toward the table.

“Are you going to join us, Mr. Rusnak, or just supervise?” she teases gently.

I set my coffee mug down, a genuine smile pulling at my lips. “I’m coming.”

Night falls slowly, wrapping the city in a quiet, star-lit calm.

In Ethan’s bedroom, the star-shaped nightlight casts its familiar glow across the ceiling. Ashley and I stand on either side of his bed, watching as his eyelids grow heavy, his breathing turning slow and shallow. He’s safe, anchored by the absolute certainty that his parents are just down the hall.

Ashley leans down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, my sweet boy,” she whispers.

I lean over next, brushing my hand through his hair. “Sleep tight, buddy.”

We wait until his grip on his toy fully relaxes before we quietly step backward. I close the bedroom door, leaving it cracked just enough to let a sliver of light stream into the hallway.

The quiet of the penthouse wraps around us like a blanket.

Ashley turns to me, her shoulders dropping as she finally lets go of the last of the day’s strength. She looks tired, but her eyes are peaceful. I reach out, my fingers sliding into hers, bridging the small gap between us.

“Come on,” I murmur softly, squeezing her hand. “Let me run you a bath.”

We step into our bedroom, closing the door behind us, shutting out the rest of the world.

While she undresses in the bedroom, I enter the bathroom to run the water. The steam rises quickly, clouding the mirror and warming the cold tile. Moments later, she walks in completely naked.

I swallow hard, instantly averting my gaze to the water. My pulse spikes, a sudden, fierce heat rushing through my veins. I want to touch her so bad, to hold her close and never let her go, but she deserves nothing but rest after what she’s been through yesterday. I force my instincts down, focusing entirely on her comfort.

When the bathtub is nearly filled, I grab a couple of the lavender bath bombs she loves and toss them in, watching them fizz and turn the water a soft, swirling purple. I reach for the jar on the vanity and scatter a handful of dried flower petals across the surface.

Ashley chuckles, the sound soft and tired, yet genuinely amused. “I never imagined I’d see the day Samuel Rusnak prepares a floral bath.”

I laugh quietly, the sound rumbling in my chest as I test the water one last time. “There are a lot of things about me you have yet to discover.”

I stand up and offer her my hand, guiding her gently toward the tub. I help her step over the porcelain ledge and lower herself into the steaming, fragrant water. She lets out a long, shuddering sigh of pure relief as the heat wraps around her.

She looks up at me through the steam, her eyes dark and heavy with a sudden, quiet intensity. “Undress,” she says softly. “Join me.”

I blink, caught off guard. I look down at her, making sure she isn’t just trying to comfort me. “Are you sure?”

She rolls her eyes, a faint, familiar spark of mischief returning to her expression. “Yes, Samuel. I’m sure. Get in.”