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She laughs, the sound muffled. "I seem to remember making that promise at our wedding."

"Yeah, well, I'm making it again now." I pull back enough to look down at her face. "I love you, Ana. I didn't want to. But you got under my skin, and I fell completely in love with you."

Fresh tears spill down her cheeks, but she's smiling. "I love you too."

I kiss her slowly, taking my time, pouring everything I feel into the connection between us. She responds with equal intensity, her hands sliding up my chest to curl around the back of my neck. The kiss deepens, becomes more urgent, and suddenly we're pulling at each other's clothes with desperate need.

We make love slowly despite the urgency. Every touch is deliberate. Every kiss is meaningful. This isn't just physical release. This is gratitude for surviving. This is celebration of the future we fought for. This is two people who found each other against all odds and refused to let go.

Afterward, we lie tangled together in the darkness. Ana's head rests on my chest, her hand tracing idle patterns across the tattoos that cover my skin. My hand rests on her stomach, feeling the slight swell where our child grows.

"What do you think it'll be like?" she asks quietly. "Being parents?"

"Terrifying," I answer honestly. "I have no fucking idea what I'm doing."

"Neither do I." She tilts her head to look up at me. "But we'll figure it out together."

"Together," I agree. The word feels right. Solid and true.

We fall asleep like that, wrapped around each other, finally at peace. Tomorrow, we'll start building the future we want. Our child will grow up knowing love and safety. The Rostova and Galkin families will stand united.

But tonight, we rest. We hold onto each other and the hope that carried us through the darkness.

And that's enough.

53

ANA

The first contraction wakes me just before dawn. For a moment, I lie perfectly still in the darkness, wondering if I imagined it. Then another wave of pressure rolls through my lower back and abdomen, and I know with absolute certainty that today is the day.

"Samuil." I reach over and shake his shoulder gently. "Wake up."

He's alert immediately, years of living on edge making him respond to the slightest disturbance. His hand goes to the nightstand where he keeps his gun before his brain catches up and he realizes the danger isn't external.

"What's wrong?" He sits up, his eyes scanning me in the dim light filtering through the curtains.

"Nothing's wrong." I manage a smile despite the lingering discomfort. "The baby's coming."

For just a second, I see something I've never seen before cross his face. Pure, unfiltered panic. Then it's gone, replaced by the controlled determination I know so well.

"How far apart are the contractions?" He's already moving, pulling on clothes with efficient movements.

"I've only had two." I push myself up against the headboard, breathing through another wave of pressure. "But they're strong."

He crosses to my side of the bed and helps me stand, his hands steady and sure.

"The physician said first babies take hours." I try to sound calm even though my heart is racing. "We have time."

"I don't care what the physician said." His voice is rough with worry as he helps me into a robe. "We're not waiting around."

He's already moving toward the door, barking orders to the guards stationed in the hallway. Within minutes, the entire estate springs into action. The physician arrives first, a calm older woman who has been delivering babies for two decades. Two experienced midwives follow close behind, carrying supplies and setting up the bedroom.

My father appears in the doorway, his face pale with concern. "Ana?"

"I'm fine, Papa." I try to reassure him even as another contraction grips me. "The baby's just decided today is the day."

He crosses the room and kisses my forehead, his hand trembling slightly as he touches my cheek. "Your mother would be so proud of you."