Accidental Bratva Daddy (Bratva Blessings)

Chapter 24Natalia

24

Natalia

M y hands won't stop trembling. The gun feels impossibly heavy, still warm from the shot that just changed everything. The acrid smell of gunpowder mingles with the metallic tang of blood—my uncle's blood—as Viktor lies before me on the polished marble floor.

I can't process what I've just done. The man who was as close to me as my father was, now bleeding out because of me. My vision blurs with tears as memories crash over me—summer barbecues, Christmas mornings, family vacations. All tainted now by the truth of who he really is.

Slowly, I cross the space between us, my heels clicking against the marble with each step. Viktor's eyes find mine, and the connection that's always been there, the bond between uncle and niece, crackles with painful intensity.

"I resented my father for so long because of the mafia," I whisper, my voice shaking. "But all this time, it was you I should have hated." The words taste like ash in my mouth.

Viktor's gaze softens, a faint smile tugging at his bloodied lips. Despite everything—the betrayal, the lies, the violence—I see a flash of the uncle I loved in that smile. My heart breaks all over again.

"But despite everything, I still love you." The confession tears itself from my throat. "It kills me to know that neither you nor my father will ever hold my twins, never get to see them grow up."

His smile falters, pain and something like regret flickering across his features. But before either of us can say more, I feel Luka's presence behind me, solid and reassuring. His hands are gentle as he takes the gun from my trembling fingers.

"That's enough, Natalia," he says quietly, his voice a warm rumble that helps ground me in reality. "You did what you had to, but any more will get us both arrested."

The wail of approaching sirens grows louder, and suddenly the room is flooded with tactical units, their weapons trained on Viktor as they secure the scene. I watch, oddly detached, as they handcuff my uncle. The man who was once the center of our family, now rendered helpless on his own marble floor.

The next few hours pass in a blur of questioning and statements. I repeat my story over and over—how Viktor lured me here, how Luka came to rescue me, how I grabbed the gun in self-defense when Viktor was about to shoot my husband. The truth, mostly, just carefully edited to protect Luka's involvement.

Finally, we're cleared to leave. The drive home is silent, the city lights streaking past like shooting stars as Luka navigates the empty streets. My mind keeps replaying the moment I pulled the trigger, the look in Viktor's eyes as he realized his own niece had shot him.

When we arrive at our house, I turn to Luka, the question that's been burning in my mind finally spilling out. "Why didn't they arrest you?"

A faint smile plays at his lips. "I had my men pull out before the police arrived. As far as the authorities are concerned, I'm just an investor who risked his life to save his wife."

Relief floods through me, and I throw my arms around him, breathing in his familiar scent—sandalwood and gunpowder and something uniquely him. His warmth seeps into me, chasing away the chill that's been lingering in my bones since I pulled that trigger.

"And how did you leak all that information about Viktor?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper against his chest.

Luka's chuckle rumbles through me as he holds me closer. "It was your mother's doing. After I explained everything, she opened the safe, found the proof, and leaked it to the press. She was shocked but knew what needed to be done."

My heart swells with a mix of relief and gratitude. Even after everything, my mother came through when it mattered most. "I'm glad she was willing to help."

Luka's arms tighten around me possessively. "Our children are safe, and that's all that matters now. Viktor is gone, and with him, any reason for me to stay in the mafia. I'm done, Natalia."

The weight of his words, the promise of a future free from fear and violence, overwhelms me. Tears spring to my eyes again, but this time from joy rather than sorrow. "Really?" I whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

Instead of answering, Luka captures my lips in a searing kiss. All the fear and adrenaline of the night transmutes into something else—something heated and desperate and alive. I melt into him, my body recognizing its mate even as my mind still reels from everything that's happened.

His hands slide down my sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. When they settle on my hips, pulling me closer, I gasp at the evidence of his arousal pressing against me. "Luka," I breathe, caught between desire and uncertainty. "Should we—after everything?—"

"Yes," he growls, nipping at my lower lip. "I need to feel you, Natalia. Need to know you're real, you're safe, you're mine."

His possessiveness sends a shiver of desire through me. This is what I need too—to lose myself in him, to remind myself that despite all the darkness in our world, this light between us is real.

We barely make it to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in our wake. When Luka lays me on our bed, his eyes are dark with need, but his touch is achingly gentle as it skims over my body.

"My brave, beautiful wife," he murmurs, pressing reverent kisses along my collarbone. "My fierce defender. Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

The adrenaline fades, leaving a tingling awareness. My body, still humming from the fight-or-flight response, now thrums with a different kind of energy. A raw, primal need that mirrors the intensity in Luka's eyes as he gazes down at me. The scent of gunpowder and blood still hangs in the air, a stark contrast to the intimacy blooming between us.

I arch into his touch, craving more. "Show me," I challenge, my voice barely a whisper. “Make me yours again.”

A low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating through me, igniting a fire deep within. He lowers his head, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

He takes his time, worshipping my body. His hands and mouth drive me to the edge of madness. Every touch is a reminder: I'm alive, I'm his, we survived. His lips trail fire down my throat, nipping at the pulse point at the base of my neck. I gasp, my fingers tangling in his thick, dark hair, pulling him closer.

His hands move with reverence, exploring my body as if I'm a precious work of art. His touch is demanding, gentle, igniting sparks of pleasure. Each caress is a reaffirmation, a silent promise. He traces my collarbone with his tongue, sending a wave of heat through me.

I arch against him, the silk of my dress a frustrating barrier. I groan, reaching for the zipper, my fingers fumbling.

He chuckles, his breath warm against my skin. "Allow me, moya lyubov ," he murmurs, his fingers brushing mine as he takes over. The zipper slides down, revealing the emerald green lace beneath. His eyes darken, lingering on the fabric that barely conceals my breasts.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire. He cups my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through me. I gasp.

His exploration continues, his hands and mouth leaving a trail of fire. He lavishes attention on my breasts, drawing moans that echo through the room. He moves lower, his tongue tracing a path down my stomach, circling my navel with a teasing flick that makes my hips buck.

I writhe beneath him, my body thrumming. His scent, his hands, his breath against my skin—it's too much, intoxicating. I'm drowning in sensation, lost in the moment. The fear and tension fade.

He reaches the apex of my thighs, his fingers tracing the delicate folds. I cry out, arching off the bed. I'm a wildfire, and his touch is the inferno.

He slides into me. We both groan as he bottoms out. The feeling of fullness, of completion, is overwhelming. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. I bury my face in his neck, breathing in his scent, grounding myself in the solid reality of him.

"Look at me," he commands softly.

I open my eyes, meeting his intense gaze. The warmth in his blue eyes melts my heart.

"You're safe now. We all are. I'm never letting anything happen to you or our children."

Tears spill over, tracing a path down my cheeks. "I love you, Luka," I whisper, the words a heartfelt confession.

Surprise flickers across his face, replaced by tenderness. He bends his head, capturing my lips in a kiss, gentle and possessive.

We move together, urgency building. The rhythm of our bodies, a dance of passion and trust, builds steadily.

His hands never leave my body. His touch is a constant reassurance, a silent language. He caresses my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, sending shivers through me. He traces my hip, his fingers dipping lower to tease my inner thigh. Each touch is a brand, marking me as his.

The intensity builds. My nails dig into his back, my body arching. I'm lost in the sensation, consumed by pleasure.

I shatter around him, crying out his name. He follows me over the edge, groaning, "My Natalia." The world explodes in light and sensation, my body convulsing around him.

The aftershocks linger, leaving me trembling. He holds me close, our bodies still joined, our breaths mingling.

Later, tangled in the sheets, his hand rests protectively over my stomach. The simple gesture brings fresh tears, tears of gratitude, of love, of hope.

"I love you," I whisper into the darkness. “I meant it, Luka. Not just in the heat of the moment, but always.” I feel Luka tense slightly, and for a moment I fear I've said too much, too soon.

But then his arms tighten around me, and he presses a kiss to my temple. "Sleep, my love," he murmurs. "Tomorrow we start our new life. Together."

As I drift off in his embrace, I realize that despite the pain and betrayal of tonight, I feel oddly at peace. Viktor's arrest marks the end of an era, but also the beginning of something new—something honest and real and ours.

For the first time since this all began, I let myself believe in the future Luka promises. A future where our children will grow up safe and loved, where we can build something legitimate and lasting from the ashes of our old lives.

But as sleep claims me, a small voice in the back of my mind whispers a warning: in our world, nothing is ever quite that simple. And morning might bring challenges we never expected.

For now though, I push those thoughts aside and burrow deeper into Luka's warmth. Whatever comes next, we'll face it together. As a family.

That has to be enough.