Page 55 of Bratva Baby

The boss lets everyone look at me first. Mikhail taps two fingers on the table. “Then let’s begin where the room already is. Get rid of her.”

“No.”

His eyes lift fully now. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“I didn’t need to.”

Sergei folds his hands more tightly. “The practical version is simple. If she’s carrying your child, that can be dealt with later. Blood can be acknowledged and protection can be extended later. She doesn’t need to remain in your home while we sort the freight problem, the Leonidov instability, and the fact that Maks has his heart set on causing a ruckus.”

“She stays with me,” I reply, keeping my voice calm and grounded.

Viktor leans back. “That sounded less like argument and more like instruction.”

“It was both.”

Mikhail’s patience thins visibly. “You are not the only man in this organization, Anton.”

“No,” I say. “I’m just one of the few you still trust when things get ugly.”

A few of them shift in their chairs, and Sergei’s eyes narrow. “Careful.”

“I am being careful. That’s why she’s alive.”

The boss still says nothing, which is a good sign. If he were going to cut me off early, he’d already have done it.

I put both forearms on the table and look at the room properly. “You want me to hand her off, hide behind process, and pretend time will improve the situation. It won’t. Maks is already moving too fast, and he’s already building story cover for whatever comes next. If she leaves my control now, she becomes vulnerable to every man in the chain who wants to earn points cheaply.”

“Control,” Sergei says. “Interesting choice of word.”

I don’t flinch. “It’s the right word.”

Mikhail laughs once without warmth. “This is a woman, not a shipment.”

I round on him. “Then stop talking about her like she can be warehoused and claimed later without consequence.”

That earns me a hard look from three sides of the table, but I keep going. I’ve broken collection deadlocks in Prague and Riga, pulled tribute out of men who thought distance protected them, cleaned up two internal leaks without dragging police onto our routes, and put down three crew disputes that were one bad night away from becoming funerals.

Men like these remember results longer than tone.

I look at each of them in turn, then lace my fingers together on the table. “I’m not moving Sofiya from where I have my eyes on her.”

Viktor’s gaze narrows while Sergei’s mouth goes flat. Mikhail looks at the boss exasperatedly. “He’s in love with the problem.”

The boss finally speaks. “Enough dancing. Tell us why she remains with you.”

I hold his gaze and speak plainly. “She is carrying my child.”

No one moves right away, though most likely knew some version of it was coming. Sergei is the first to recover. “Confirmed?”

“Yes.”

Mikhail rubs a hand over his mouth and Viktor just watches me more closely now. The boss nods once. “Then blood is involved.”

“Yes.”

That settles one argument. Sergei says, “Blood explains why you moved quickly. It doesn’t explain why she stays under your direct roof instead of being placed somewhere quieter.”

“Yes, it does,” I say. “A quieter place is exactly where men disappear. I’m not giving Maks or anyone adjacent to him the chance to buy one weak guard, one compromised driver, or one house manager with a gambling problem. In my home, under my men, nobody touches her.”