Knocked Up by the Russian (Nikolai Bratva Brides #3)

Chapter 23 - Amy

After telling Ivan about the baby, Amy didn't know what she should have expected, but it wasn't the next two weeks of him barely being home to talk about it more. The anxious thrill of revealing her pregnancy had quickly faded, replaced by a gnawing sense of unease. The hours stretched long, filled with silence that felt heavier with each passing day.

She wasn't sure if it was just her own hang-ups pushing thoughts into her head, but she felt like there was a tension in Ivan that hadn't been there before. When he did come home, his expression looked grim, eyes shadowed with worry.

They hadn't made love again since the last time, and he treated her like glass. She'd asked him not to be controlling, and he wasn't. But all that progress between them felt like it was balancing on the edge of some unnamed precipice. He ran her baths, made her dinners, and asked about her day. Everything she could accept, and none of it really left her feeling more uncertain than ever before. No, what really did it was the carefulness.

It felt like he was trying to shield her from himself, keeping a distance that left her feeling more isolated than ever. She missed the ease he used to have around her—his soft touches and wrapping his arm around her waist. It was still there, but now those moments seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the weight of their new reality.

As the days rolled on without clarity, Amy found her thoughts spiraling. Is he regretting this? she thought, heart sinking with each passing day. Is he unhappy? The questions gnawed at her, and she felt a growing need to vocalize her concerns.

So on a busy weekday, while Mira and her mother were looking after the children, she grabbed Zia by the arm and tugged her toward one of the empty bedrooms.

"What's going on?" Zia asked, eyes wide as she set Alexander on the carpet.

Sipping her coffee, Amy climbed on the bed and grabbed a cushion. "I'm losing my mind," she admitted quietly, her voice laced with anxiety. "And considering we can't go to our usual place for girl talk—and alcohol's out of the question—I was hoping this would work instead."

"Oh my god," Zia muttered, rolling her eyes heavenward. "Hon, you know I love you—but don't you think you could've been a little more subtle about it? I actually thought you were losing it for a second."

Amy shot her a glare. "Not helping! And keep quiet, I don't need the rest of the family finding out about this."

"You haven't even explained what's going on," Zia hissed a little more quietly.

Amy blew out a breath, sticking her tongue out at Alexander. "Your mommy's a meanie, Alex."

"Your godmommy's a weirdo, Alex," Zia mocked, and a grin lit up both their faces as he gurgled a giggle. "Okay, come on. Spell it out for me. What are we doing here?"

"It's Ivan," Amy mumbled, ignoring Zia's sarcastic: "No... Really!"

"I'm really going to need a little more detail here. I thought you guys talked," Zia stated, an eyebrow raised in a concerned expression.

"We did," Amy admitted with a shrug. She sipped her coffee before continuing. "But I don't know, Zia. Things don't feel right. He's not acting right. It’s like he’s become a different person. He hardly ever comes home in the evenings anymore, and when he does, he’s distant, almost... scared."

"Scared?" Zia shot her a look of disbelief. "He's Bratva, Amy. What the hell would he have to be scared of? Are you sure you aren't overthinking everything? I mean, tensions are high right now, Amy. Besides the threats and the politics, you two are about to become parents! That’s a huge change—"

"I know that! But tensions have been high for the past two months since we got married," Amy interjected, her irritation bubbling to the surface. "It sorta feels like there's more going on here, Z. It feels like we’re slipping through each other’s fingers."

"Have you told him how you feel?" Zia quizzed, and Amy bit her lip as her cheeks flushed.

"Well... I mean, not in those words."

"Uh-uh, girl! No! So what exactly did you guys speak about then?" Zia asked, letting go of Alex as she folded her arms. Amy shifted on the bed, her gaze going outside for a moment until Alex squealed. She still couldn't believe she was going to be a mother in a couple of months. It had been a shock when Zia got pregnant with Alex, but this was so—unbelievable. There were so many things she wasn't certain about—doctor's appointments and maternity clothes, whether she and Ivan would still be married in a few months, and how the hell was she going to run the club.

"Not enough," Amy finally said in answer to Zia's question. "We spoke about the investigation and the baby. That's it. But every time I try and bring up other things, he goes quiet. I don't know what to do. This is Ivan, of all goddamn people. He never shuts up about what he wants—for me, for him... us. I just can't understand why he won't speak to me now. Everything's unconventional and confusing, and I don't know what I'm doing here."

She gestured vaguely, irritation crossing her features before it fell away and vulnerability replaced it. "We didn't get a love story, Z. Everything that's happened since then has been—" Her words cut off as she struggled to find the right words, and when they wouldn't come, she let out an irritated growl.

"Amy, hon. I know it's unconventional, but you did get a love story. And as for Ivan... Well, you know how he is. This really isn't that out of character for him." Zia reached out, placing a comforting hand on Amy’s arm. "You have to give him time. This is a lot for both of you. He’ll come around. If not, then maybe you two should have a chat to see where you're both standing. It sounds like you've got a lot that you need to talk about—and, who knows? Maybe you guys have the same concerns."

"Fine," she murmured, promising Zia she'd try. At the very least, maybe they just had to wait until the threat was gone.

But Amy’s worry wrapped around her like a chokehold. Every day felt heavier than the last, and every morning Ivan looked around with that same regretful look like he was already saying goodbye to what they had.

Her heart sank further when he didn’t appear for four nights in a row. She waited in their bedroom until the early hours of the morning, spent the days hiding her worry, and kept an eye on the front door. Each time the door opened, her heart raced only to plummet when it was someone else. Uncertainty gnawed at her sanity, and she felt the reckless urge to do something.

On the fifth night, fueled by desperation and fear, she snuck out of Mikhail's house. She'd overheard Lev mentioning something to Zia about how they were monitoring their investigation from one of the other houses. It should've been safe. They had Bratva soldiers everywhere, and this was still within the gated estate.

She stepped into the cool night air, and someone else followed. Panic welled, silenced by the glint of a gun in the periphery of her vision. Cold metal pressed against her forehead, and Amy could've sworn she felt her life flash against her eyes.

***

Ivan

Damn it, Amy!

"LEV!" Ivan bellowed, racing on foot after the motherfuckers driving his wife away. "Get the fucking car!"

Fury coursed through him, fueled by the exhaustion of days spent interrogating, making business deals, and generally threatening the Bratva to unearth who was orchestrating the chaos that threatened their lives. Piece by piece, the puzzle had formed.

Aleksander Ivonov. The slimy bastard. All of this for a mistake that Ivan had made when he was young and stupid. A bitter taste of betrayal filled his mouth, knowing that the repercussions of his actions were not limited to him alone.

Harsh breaths spilled from Ivan's lips, his panicked heart threatening to tear apart in his chest.

"NO!" he screamed, collapsing to the floor as the car skidded out the gates. If anything happened to Amy and his baby, he wouldn't have a heart left.

He'd been about to go home to his wife, to let her know things were going to be okay, that they finally found the bastard. But he'd received a call from Kostya letting him know that Aleksander was on the way to the compound, and as he'd left to alert Mikhail, Adrian had phoned to let him know his wife—his little bear—had left the house to go looking for him. They'd caught her on the cameras right before she walked out of view and into the firing range of Aleksander Ivonov's gun.

Tires skidded, an SUV reaching his side as Lev jumped out. "IVAN! Get the fuck in! Adrian's tracking their vehicle now."

Thank God for Kostya and Adrian's instincts; they'd both attached a tracker to Aleksander's vehicle last week when most of the clues started aligning, pointing to him.

Kostya was sitting grimly beside his older brother, as Ivan stumbled and darted toward the car.

"Go!" he barked hoarsely as soon as he got in, slamming the door behind himself.

"There's no way he's working alone," Adrian informed them, his voice crackling on the Bluetooth speakers, the click-clack of typing in the background. "Wait—Motherfucker! Ilya just confirmed he's got backup. Lev, you've got minutes at best to get ahold of them before Amy gets hurt. I've updated your GPS."

"I'm on it; do we have enough people at the compound?" Lev demanded to know as he pressed his foot harder on the brakes.

"We do; we're sending backup too," Mikhail answered brusquely in the background. "Hurry up and get that fucker. He's going to pay for the shit he's put us through."

"Yes, boss," Lev said, a dark glee in his expression, and Ivan checked his gun to make sure there were enough bullets.

They closed in on the location of Ivonov’s vehicle, and adrenaline surged through his veins. The tension hung thick in the air, every man alert, ready for a fight.

When they finally spotted the black SUV just outside the perimeter of the gated estate, Ivan’s instincts kicked into overdrive. There were two more vehicles in front, all of them Bratva owned. All of them traitors. It was a good thing Adrian was organizing backup because, depending on how many men were in the vehicles ahead of them, they'd be screwed otherwise.

"Shoot his fucking tires," Lev ordered, and Ivan jolted into action, rolling down his window to do exactly that. One... Two... Three bullets were fired, hitting the back right tire of the first car—the car with Amy in it.

It swerved, sliding precariously along the road until screeching to a stop. Lev slid his own vehicle to a stop, and they approached swiftly, leaping into action as soon as they caught sight of Ivonov stepping out of the vehicle. He wasn't alone. Danyl had his gun trained on Amy as he climbed out behind him. Maksim followed, his mouth twisting into a sneer.

Fucking hell, they played us , Ivan thought with disbelief. Boris's ill-timed death was starting to make a lot more sense. But if they were involved, who else was? The SUVs must've seen the commotion but there was no sign of them stopping, not until Adrian's team swerved in front of them. Three gunmetal SUVs blocked off the two black ones, and Ilya climbed out the first, her gun raised as she approached.

Turning his attention back to the scene in front of him, Ivan felt fury flickering in his veins.

"What bullshit is this?" Lev snarled as Ivan forced himself not to shoot both of them. Amy's wide green eyes met his, a sheen of tears growing as she stared in horror around her. He turned his furious gaze onto the men around Aleksander. "Mikhail's going to fucking ruin you for betraying the Bratva like this."

They'd been there when they were children, after their parents' deaths... all those years. A heavy weight sat on him as he glared at the men who'd been there when he got his first gun and learned to shoot. Kill . It almost seemed ironic now that he was determined to kill them all.

"Ivan," Amy whimpered, but a blow to her head had her quiet, her eyes wide and terrified. Ivan's fury grew upon seeing a similar mark just below her temple.

They hurt my wife, he thought desperately. "I'm going to fucking kill you," Ivan snarled, pulse thumping in his head.

"No, you won't," Ivonov snapped, his gun trained on Ivan's wife. "Not yet at least. Or your beautiful, pregnant wife will get a bullet in her head. A real shame; I could've had some fun before killing her. Maybe even recorded it so that you could watch my prick in your wife. It wouldn't be the same as Katya, she isn't half as pretty, but your expression will be enough."

"What do you want? Let the girl go, and you'll get it," Lev demanded gruffly, stepping beside Ivan. He tensed at his brother's nearness, mind racing a mile a minute as he tried to find a way out of this for Amy. With Maksim and Danyl both there, he didn't know how they were going to get her out of this alive.

Gunshots rang out in the distance, Ilya and Adrian shooting the tires of the black SUVs. They had to hurry, Ivan knew he, Lev, and Kostya would need their help getting Amy from Danyll and Maksim's clutches.

Ivonov let out a cold laugh, the sight chilling Ivan to the bone. "The time for the Nikolais to run the Bratva is over. Killing one of your heirs is just the start." His lips twisted into a sinister smile. "... for now. I'd be happy if you sped up the process, though. Why don't we start with your son after this, Lev? Little Alexander?" Lev let out a growl, and Ivonov smiled mockingly. "No? But you said anything."

"You're sick," Ivan spat, anger boiling over. "You think this will prove something? No one's going to follow a coward holding a woman hostage. For killing children ."

"A coward?" Ivonov echoed, his tone incredulous. "You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment, Ivan. You thought you could just waltz into my life, take what was mine, and leave without consequence? Like fucking hell. It's time the Bratva go back to the old ways. You youngsters have too much leniency . We used to run Chicago, not just the nightlife." He spat on the floor, fingers caressing his gun. Ivonov sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. "But this isn’t just about me. This is about dismantling the very foundation of the Nikolai Bratva. You have a future—a child that you’re bringing into this corrupt world, but you will never truly be safe as long as I live. And I plan to bring everyone down with you."

Shivers ran down Ivan's spine as he processed Ivonov's convoluted logic.

"You think the Irish are your answer?" Kostya demanded with a scoff, it had been a theory at the back of their minds that Ivonov was working with the Irish—before they realized there were more traitors in the Bratva. Ivonov's smile only grew, confirming that sick theory as well, and Kostya let out a bitter laugh. "You think working with them will give you power? You’re dooming not just us, but yourself. They’ll double-cross you the moment it suits them."

"Perhaps," Ivonov said, a calmness settling over him as he maintained his focus on Amy, the gun unwavering. "But they are the key to weakening the Nikolai Bratva. It starts with you—get you out of the picture, and the rest will follow. I’ve arranged for a partnership that will wreak havoc upon your precious family."

"No, you've started a war," Lev said, grabbing Ivan before he could step forward. Ivonov didn't miss it, though, that savageness driving Ivan to get his wife out of the psycho's hands.

"Careful, Ivan," Ivonov warned, pointing the gun closer to Amy's head. "I wouldn’t want to pull the trigger before things get interesting. This is your last chance to save her. Take a step back, boy."

"No," Ivan retorted, fury lacing his words. "I won't let you hurt her."

"I don’t think you understand, Ivan," Ivonov said, a twisted smirk spreading across his face. "You’re not in control here. You may have fooled yourself into believing that family matters, but it’s all just a matter of survival in this world. And I will do everything I can to ensure that the Nikolai Bratva crumbles beneath all of your feet."

As Ivan glared at Ivonov, his mind raced. He had to shift the odds and find a way to turn this dark stampede around before it spiraled out of control. Everything hinged on this moment.

The atmosphere crackled with tension as Ivan’s resolve hardened. He won’t take her from me.