Chapter 28: Filthy Lies: Chapter 28

I’ve never seen so many guards disguised as guests in my life.

One of the “ushers” hands me a program with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his vigilant eyes. The tattoos on his hands are a little bit of a giveaway, too.

“Relax,” Vince murmurs against my ear. “You’re too tense.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” I hoist Sofiya in my arms. She looks like a tiny angel in her christening gown, a handkerchief-sized thing of white lace and satin ribbons.

I feel the weight of the necklace Vince gave me pressing against my collarbone. The sapphire glints in the church light.

Protection disguised as devotion. That’s Vince’s specialty.

“Everything is under control,” he assures me, one hand at the small of my back as he guides us down the aisle.

The church is beautiful. Bare stone ceilings soar and terminate in glowing stained glass windows. Flowers line the altar—calla lilies, of course. Pure white, just as Vince demanded.

Despite the sacred space, I can’t help noticing how the guests have arranged themselves. Like magnets of the same pole, they repel each other into natural groupings.

Grigor Petrov sits with his men on the left side, three rows back. My biological father looks refined in a tan suit, his silver hair combed back from his forehead. When he catches my eye, he offers a slight nod. I return it automatically.

Across the aisle, Andrei watches this exchange with hawkish intensity. Vince’s father may be under house arrest, but he’s been granted permission to attend his granddaughter’s christening.

It’s a show of Vince’s mercy, theoretically. I tend to think my husband just wants to keep his eyes on the man.

“Your father and mine look ready to tear each other apart,” I whisper to Vince.

“Let them try.” His hand presses more firmly against my back. “Arkady has men positioned to intervene.”

“Gee, that’s comforting.”

Near the front, I spot Anastasia and Daniel—or Daniil, I should say. They sit with careful space between them, though I notice their hands linked discreetly beneath a program. Their secret remains mostly intact, despite Anastasia now knowing the truth.

“They’re brave,” I note, nodding toward them.

Vince follows my gaze. “They’re reckless. But I respect it.”

As we approach the altar, a gentle hush falls over the congregation. The priest waits with a benevolent smile, prayer book in hand. He has no idea that half the men in his church are armed and dangerous.

I wonder what God makes of all this. A sacred ceremony surrounded by sinners and killers. Hopefully, He has a sense of humor.

“The godparents?” the priest asks.

Arkady steps forward. “Just one, singular. I’m doing this mission solo. Until some lucky lady catches my eye, that is.”

I groan and laugh at the same time. Vince just shakes his head and sighs at his best friend’s antics.

“Er, right. Yes. Well…” The priest squirms awkwardly for a moment before regathering his mojo. “We are gathered today to welcome this child into God’s family,” he begins.

Sofiya wriggles in my arms and tries to tug at the necklace around my neck. I kiss her soft knuckles until she gives up the fight.

The ceremony continues with ancient words and rituals. Oil on Sofiya’s forehead. Water blessed and waiting. Solemn oaths spoken aloud.

“Do you reject Satan and all his empty promises?” the priest asks at one point.

I look down at my daughter’s innocent face, then around at the dangerous men watching from every corner of the church. How do I answer that? Our entire life is built on filthy promises made in shadow.

“I do,” I respond.

When it’s time to present Sofiya for her baptism, Vince and I step forward together. As the priest takes our daughter from my arms, something opens inside me. A sudden, crystal clarity washing over me like the holy water about to touch Sofiya’s head.

This child—conceived in passion, carried in fear, born in captivity—represents something none of us expected.

Hope.

Pure, unblemished hope in the midst of all our darkness.

Vince and I have both done terrible things. We’ve lied and betrayed and hurt. We’ve made choices that would horrify most normal people.

And yet, here she is. Perfect. Untouched by our sins.

As water cascades over Sofiya’s dark curls, she lets out a startled cry that echoes through the church. Then, to my surprise, she settles immediately, blinking up at the priest with curious blue eyes.

“I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” the priest intones.

Tears spring to my eyes unexpectedly. This moment feels sacred in a way I didn’t anticipate. Not because of the ceremony itself, but because of what it represents. A beginning. A chance for something pure to grow from our complicated soil.

I glance at Vince and find him watching our daughter with naked adoration. Just a father in love with his child. For as long as that moment lasts, he’s almost as pure as her.

When the priest hands Sofiya back to me, I clutch her close, inhaling her sweet baby scent.

“She is now sealed with the Holy Spirit,” the priest announces, making the sign of the cross over Sofiya’s head.

As if on cue, Sofiya yawns dramatically, drawing soft laughter from the congregation. Even Grigor’s stern face cracks into a smile.

For one perfect, suspended heartbeat, everything feels right. The warring factions, the dangerous men, the complicated history—all of it fades into the background. There is only this: my daughter’s warm weight in my arms, my husband’s steady presence beside me, and the wild, fierce love that binds us together.

I meet Vince’s eyes and find my own joy reflected there.

“We did it,” I whisper.

He nods, pressing a kiss to my temple. “We did.”

As we turn to face the congregation, I search for my mother among the faces. Though she’s too weak to attend, I know she’s with us in spirit. I silently promise to tell her everything about this day. She’d love the lilies, I think.

Grigor catches my eye again. He almost looks wistful. I wonder if he’s thinking of my own birth, of the daughter he never knew.

On the other side, Andrei sits rigid and unreadable. His eyes flit from Grigor to Vince to Sofiya. Impossible to say what he’s thinking.

The tension between them vibrates across the space like a plucked guitar string. Two patriarchs, two empires, separated by blood and decades of hatred, momentarily united by this tiny, squawking bundle in my arms.

The priest raises his hands in blessing. “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”

“Thanks be to God,” the congregation responds.

As if peace were that simple. As if any of us could just walk away from the tangled web we’ve woven.

We move down the aisle, me carrying Sofiya, Vince’s hand at my waist. Guests rise as we pass, offering congratulations and blessings.

Arkady appears at Vince’s shoulder, whispering something I can’t hear. Vince’s posture stiffens slightly, but his face reveals nothing.

“What’s wrong?” I ask under my breath.

“Nothing,” he replies, too quickly. “Arkady’s just being thorough.”

I know a lie when I hear one, but now isn’t the time to press. We continue toward the church doors, where sunlight streams in, bright and promising.

We’re halfway down the aisle when the first shot rings out.

The sound is unmistakable—a sharp crack that echoes through the holy space like a thunderclap.

Then another.

And another.

Vince’s body shields mine instantly, pushing me down between the pews. Sofiya wails in my arms. She’s so new to this planet, but even she knows enough to be afraid.

“Stay down!” Vince orders, his gun already drawn.

The church erupts into controlled chaos. Guards materialize from every corner, weapons appearing from beneath jackets and hymnal shelves.

Grigor’s men form a protective circle around him. Andrei’s do the same. Daniil pulls Anastasia to the floor, covering her body with his.

More gunfire outside. Closer now.

“The baby?” Vince asks, his eyes wild with fear I’ve rarely seen.

“She’s okay.” I clutch Sofiya tighter. “What’s happening?”

“Solovyovs,” he spits.

Arkady appears beside us, crouched low. “We need to move. Now. There’s a secure room beneath the vestry.”

I press my cheek against Sofiya’s head, feeling her tiny heart racing against mine. The necklace Vince gave me suddenly feels heavier. The peace I felt just moments ago has shattered completely, replaced by the all-too-familiar surge of adrenaline and fear.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper to Sofiya as Vince and Arkady create a human shield around us. “Mama’s got you.”

As we hurry toward safety, I can’t help thinking how quickly we’ve returned to what I’m trying so hard to run from.

Welcome to the world, Sofiya Akopov.

Where even baptism comes with bullets.