Broken Bride (Belaya Bratva 2)

As my hand drifted toward Naomi’s stomach, I suddenly felt guilt at how I’d exploded at my own mother in St. Petersburg. For the first time, I understood the desperation she’d tried to convey to me. For the first time, I understood the animal desire to sacrifice everything in service of my child.

To do what was necessary. Even if those things were unspeakable.

I pulled Naomi closer to me, greedily drinking in her scent, and the shape of her body filled the space between us.

Nothing would harm our child.

Nothing would harm us.

I would do what was necessary.

I swore it.