Chapter 6: Filthy Lies: Chapter 6

My body splits open.

There’s no other way to describe it. I am being torn in half, ripped apart from the inside out. My screams don’t even sound human anymore.

“Push,” the doctor commands. “This is it. One more time.”

I don’t think I can. I’ve given everything. Every ounce of strength, every molecule of fight. But then I remember whose child this is—mine and Vince’s. Stubbornness runs in both our bloodlines.

“You can do it,” the doctor says firmly when I open my mouth to tell him I can’t. “The head is right there. One more push.”

I close my eyes and think of Vince. It’s so easy to conjure him up. Despite everything, it’s like he’s right here with me. I’ve got his blue eyes in my vision, his touch on my shoulders, his heat pressed up against my side. And then there are all the things you can’t see or touch that are here anyways.

The wry twist of his smile and what it does to my insides. His fire, his rage, his passion. His absolute refusal to give up on anything he wants.

And God, do I want this baby to live.

I dig deep, gathering whatever shreds of energy remain in my broken body, and push with everything I have left. The pain is blinding, obliterating all thought.

Then, suddenly—release.

A rush of pressure giving way.

And a scream.

A scream that isn’t mine.

“A girl,” the doctor announces, his voice thick with relief. “You have a daughter.”

The world stops spinning for one perfect moment. I blink through sweat and tears to see a tiny, purple-red body squirming in the doctor’s hands. She’s covered in blood and vernix, her face scrunched in outrage, lungs working perfectly as she announces her arrival with furious cries.

She’s the single most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Give her to me,” I rasp. “Please.”

The doctor quickly clamps and cuts the cord, then lays my daughter on my chest. Her warm, slippery weight settles against me, and everything changes.

The universe realigns itself around this tiny being.

“Hello,” I whisper, running a trembling finger down her cheek. “I’m your mom.”

Her cries quiet a little as she feels my skin against hers. I can’t stop staring at her. Ten perfect fingers. Ten perfect toes. A shock of dark hair matted to her head. She has Vince’s strong chin, my nose, and eyes that are clenched tight but look like they might be my shape with his color.

A miracle folded into seven pounds of humanity.

The fierce, consuming love that floods me is like nothing I’ve experienced. It’s surreal. Overwhelming. Every atom in my body has been reprogrammed with a single directive: Protect this child.

“Sofiya,” I murmur, the name we chose feeling right on my tongue. “Sofiya Akopov.”

The doctor tends to me while I’m lost gazing at this perfect angel. I barely notice. I can’t look away from my daughter.

“She appears healthy,” he says, relief evident in his voice. “Strong lungs, good color. A fighter, like her mother.”

“Like her father, too,” I say softly.

The blonde woman who’s been supervising my captivity approaches. Her cold eyes are fixed on Sofiya in a way I despise.

“The child must be cleaned and examined,” she says, reaching for my baby.

Something inside me snaps.

“Don’t you fucking touch her.” My voice is barely recognizable—crackling, fierce, a lioness’s warning growl.

The woman pauses. “Don’t be ridiculous. You are in no condition⁠—”

“I said don’t touch her.” I curl my body around Sofiya, ignoring the screaming pain of my torn and battered flesh. “She stays with me.”

“Give me the child, you stupid whore.” She reaches again, more forcefully this time.

I lash out with my free arm, catching her hand and twisting hard enough to make her yelp.

“Touch my daughter, and I will kill you.” The words aren’t mine. They are Vince’s, flowing through me like his blood flows through our child. “I will tear out your throat with my teeth.”

I mean every word.

The woman backs away, nursing her wrist. “You are weak from childbirth. Do not be an idiot.”

“Try me.” I hold Sofiya closer, feeling her tiny heart beating against mine. “My husband is coming. You know he is. And when he gets here, anyone who’s laid a hand on his child will beg for death by the time he’s done with them. Do you really want that for yourself?”

Fear flickers in her eyes. I’m right. She knows I’m right.

“Clean her here,” the doctor intervenes. “The mother should keep the baby skin-to-skin. It’s medically best for them both.”

The woman’s gaze shifts between us. “Fine,” she spits finally. “But if Akopov does not agree to our terms, both will suffer.”

I ignore her threats, focusing entirely on my daughter. Sofiya has stopped crying and is nuzzling against my chest.

“That’s right, baby girl,” I whisper. “I’ve got you. And Daddy’s coming for us.”

The doctor brings a small basin of warm water and some cloths. With gentle movements, he shows me how to clean her while keeping her against my skin. Every touch feels sacred, every tiny limb precious beyond measure.

“I have some formula,” he says quietly. “If you want to try feeding her.”

I shake my head. “I want to try nursing her first.”

With his guidance, I position Sofiya at my breast. The feeling when she latches on is strange and wonderful and painful all at once. She’s so tiny, yet so determined.

Tears stream down my face as I watch her. I’ve never felt so exhausted, so broken, or so powerful. I made this perfect being. Protected her through kidnapping and captivity. Brought her safely into the world despite everything.

And now, I would die for her without hesitation.

I understand Vince better now than I ever have. The fierce, fiery need to protect at all costs. The willingness to burn the world to ashes for someone you love. I feel it coursing through my veins, transforming me into someone new.

Someone very, very dangerous.

“Your husband,” the doctor whispers while pretending to check Sofiya’s reflexes. “He is Vincent Akopov?”

I nod, not taking my eyes off my daughter.

“Then God help the ones who have brought us here,” he murmurs. “I have seen what men like him do when their families are threatened.”

“He’ll find us,” I say with absolute certainty in my voice. “And when he does, nowhere on this earth will be safe for them.”

The doctor merely nods.

Outside the room, I hear raised voices. A door slamming. The distinct sound of a gun being cocked.

Something is happening.

I hold Sofiya closer and whisper reassurances I’m not sure I believe. But I know one thing with unshakable conviction: No one will take her from me. No one will harm her.

Even in my weakened state, with blood still pooling beneath me and my body torn from giving birth, I am more dangerous now than I have ever been. Because now, I understand what Vince has known all along.

Love doesn’t make you weak.

It makes you capable of terrible, necessary things.

I kiss Sofiya’s forehead and prepare for whatever comes next. “We’re going to be okay,” I promise her. “Your daddy is the most stubborn, relentless man alive. He won’t stop until he finds us.”

The shouting outside gets louder. Footsteps pound down hallways. The blonde woman’s hand moves to her weapon.

I curl more tightly around my daughter, my body a shield.

“Let them come,” I whisper against Sofiya’s downy head. “Your father taught me how to fight. And for you, my love, I’ll fight the whole world.”

The door bursts open.

And I am ready.