Secret Bratva Daddy

Chapter 25Avros

25

Avros

T he harsh fluorescent lights of the jail cell have become a constant in my life over the past few weeks. Their unforgiving glare has etched every crack in the concrete walls, every rust stain on the metal bars, into my memory. The monotonous routine, the oppressive silence broken only by the occasional shout or clang of metal—it has all started to blur together, days bleeding into nights in an endless cycle of regret and longing.

But today, something is different. The air feels charged, expectant. Even the usual stench of sweat and despair seems less potent.

The guard's keys jangle, an unusually cheerful sound in this grim place. "Petrov," he calls out, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. "You're being released. Gather your things."

For a moment, I can't move. Released? Just like that? It seems too good to be true, and in my line of work, things that seem too good to be true usually are. I sit on the edge of my narrow bunk, hands gripping the thin mattress, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Did you hear me, Petrov?" The guard's impatient voice snaps me back to reality. "You're free to go. Your lawyer's waiting for you at processing."

I stand slowly, my muscles stiff from weeks of inactivity. As I gather the few possessions I have, a worn paperback novel, a photo of Sydney I've managed to smuggle in, my mind races. What has Richard done? What strings has he pulled to make this happen?

The photo of Sydney catches the harsh light as I pick it up, and for a moment, I'm lost in her smile. It's a candid shot, taken in the garden of the mansion. Her head is thrown back in laughter, her hair a fiery halo in the sunlight. My throat tightens as I trace her face with my finger. Will she still look at me that way, after everything?

The walk to processing feels surreal. Each step takes me closer to freedom, closer to Sydney, closer to our unborn child. But with each step, the weight of my sins also seems to grow heavier. The echo of my footsteps on the concrete floor sounds like an accusation. Violent. Criminal. Unworthy.

Do I deserve this second chance? After everything I've done, all the lives I've ruined, do I have any right to the happiness waiting for me on the other side of those gates?

Richard is waiting for me, his usually impeccable suit looking slightly rumpled. Dark circles under his eyes suggest he's been working through the night. Has he been up for days, pulling every string, calling in every favor to secure my release?

"Avros," he says, a rare smile gracing his features. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows on his face, emphasizing the lines of exhaustion. "Let's get you home. Sydney and Miron are waiting."

My heart clenches at the mention of their names. Sydney, my beautiful, strong Sydney. And Miron, my little brother, finally free because of my sacrifice. Are they really waiting for me? Can they possibly still want me in their lives after everything that has happened?

As we walk out of the jail, the sunlight hits my face for the first time in weeks. I squint against the brightness, feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way I haven't in years. The warmth on my skin is almost painful after so long in the climate-controlled prison. A gentle breeze carries the scent of freshly cut grass and car exhaust—the smell of freedom.

Richard's hand on my shoulder guides me to his waiting car, the leather seats a shock of luxury after weeks of hard metal and rough fabric. Once inside, the silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. I have so many questions, but I don't know where to start. The soft hum of the engine and the muted sounds of the city outside feel surreal, like I'm watching a movie of someone else's life.

Richard, ever perceptive, speaks first. "The charges have been dropped," he says, his eyes on the road ahead. The streetlights cast alternating patterns of light and shadow across his face. "The judge was... persuaded that pursuing this case wasn't in anyone's best interest."

I nod, understanding the unspoken implication. The same judge from Miron's case, no doubt eager to avoid any further scrutiny. It isn't justice, not really. But in our world, justice is a luxury we can't often afford.

"And Sydney?" I ask, my voice hoarse from disuse. My heart races at just saying her name.

Richard's expression softens, the hard lines of his face easing. "She's doing well, Avros. She's been incredibly strong throughout all of this. And the baby..."

"The baby?" I prompt, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through me. My hands clench involuntarily, imagining the swell of Sydney's belly, the miracle growing within her.

"Everything's progressing normally," Richard assures me, his tone gentler than I've ever heard it. "Sydney had an ultrasound last week. She wanted to wait to find out the gender until you were home."

Home. The word echoes in my mind, filling me with a longing so intense it's almost painful. Home to Sydney, to our child, to the life I've dreamed of but never thought I deserved. The leather seat beneath me suddenly feels too soft, too comfortable. Do I even remember how to live outside of concrete walls and iron bars?

As we drive through the familiar streets of the city, my anxiety grows. The world outside the car window seems too bright, too fast. People hurry along the sidewalks, living their normal lives, oblivious to the turmoil inside me. What if Sydney has changed her mind? What if she's realized she's better off without me and my dangerous world? What if Miron resents me for the time he's lost, for the danger I've put him in?

"They love you, you know," Richard says, as if reading my thoughts. His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, surprisingly kind. "Both of them. They've been counting down the days until your return."

I swallow hard, emotion threatening to overwhelm me. The lump in my throat feels like it might choke me. "I don't deserve them," I say softly, the words barely audible over the hum of the engine. "After everything I've done..."

Richard's grip on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles turning white. "You're right," he says bluntly, his tone sharp enough to cut through my self-pity. "You probably don't deserve them. But they've chosen you anyway. So the question is, Avros, what are you going to do with this second chance?"

His words hit me like a physical blow, but they're exactly what I need to hear. I straighten in my seat, feeling some of my old resolve returning. The fog of self-doubt begins to clear, replaced by determination. "I'm going to be better," I say firmly, my voice stronger than it's been in weeks. "For Sydney, for our child, for Miron. I'm going to be the man they deserve."

Richard nods approvingly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Good. That's what I wanted to hear."

As we pull up to the mansion, my heart begins to race. The familiar gates, the manicured lawn, the imposing facade of the house—it all looks exactly the same, yet somehow different. Like a painting I've seen a thousand times but am only now truly understanding.

I can see two figures waiting on the front steps, one tall and lean, unmistakably Miron, and one smaller, with a gentle curve to her belly that makes my breath catch.

Sydney.

Richard has barely stopped the car before I'm out, my feet carrying me towards them of their own accord. The gravel crunches under my shoes, the sound grounding me in reality. This is happening. I am home.

Miron reaches me first, pulling me into a fierce hug. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the crisp outdoor air brings back a flood of memories. "Welcome home, big brother," he says, his voice thick with emotion.

I hug him back just as tightly, feeling some of the tension leave my body. Miron is solid and real in my arms, proof that this isn't some cruel dream. "It's good to be home, Miron. I'm sorry for everything..."

Miron pulls back, shaking his head. His eyes, so like my own, are bright with unshed tears. "No apologies necessary. You saved me, Avros. Now let me return the favor and help you build the life you deserve."

Before I can respond, a soft voice calls out, "Avros?"

I turn, and there she is. Sydney, more beautiful than I remember, her eyes shining with unshed tears. The sun catches in her hair, turning it to living flame. For a moment, I can't move, can't breathe. She is really here, waiting for me, still wanting me despite everything.

Then Sydney is in my arms, and the world falls away. I bury my face in her hair, breathing in her familiar scent, vanilla and something uniquely her. The softness of her body against mine, the gentle swell of her belly pressing between us, it's all almost too much to bear.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, the words muffled against her skin. "I'm so sorry for everything, myshka ."

Sydney pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, her hand cupping my cheek. The warmth of her palm against my skin sends shivers down my spine. "No more apologies," she says firmly, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. "You're home now. That's all that matters. Everything else is forgiven, if forgiveness was even needed at all."

I nod, unable to form words past the lump in my throat. My gaze drifts down to her belly, to the visible proof of our love growing within her. Slowly, reverently, I sink to my knees before her.

The gravel bites into my knees, but I barely notice. My hands shake as I place them on either side of her bump. The fabric of her dress is soft under my palms, but I can feel the firmness beneath, the miracle of life.

"Hello, little one," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. "I'm your papa. I'm sorry I've been away, but I promise you, I'm never leaving again."

I press a gentle kiss to Sydney's belly, overwhelmed by the love I feel for this tiny being I haven't even met yet. The enormity of it all—freedom, family, future—crashes over me like a wave.

"I swear to you both," I say, looking up at Sydney, seeing the love and acceptance shining in her eyes, "I will be the best father, the best partner I can be. I will spend every day of my life making sure you're safe, happy, and loved."

Sydney's fingers card through my hair, her touch soothing away weeks of tension and fear. "We know, Avros," she says softly, her voice full of a tenderness I've never thought I'd deserve. "We love you too."

As I stand, pulling Sydney close once more, I feel Miron's hand on my shoulder. My family, reunited at last. The warmth of the sun on my face, the scent of Sydney's hair, the solid presence of my brother—it all combines to create a moment of perfect peace.

The road ahead won't be easy—there are still enemies to face, a business to legitimize, a child to raise in a world that will always have its dangers. But in this moment, with Sydney in my arms and Miron by my side, I know we can face anything.

I am home. And I will do whatever it takes to protect this precious gift I've been given.