Sinful Union: Epilogue 2

“You’ve got this. Just breathe—slow and steady.”

Kat’s fingers clamp down on mine like a vise, and I wince. I’ve handled gunfights, ambushes, and high-stakes negotiations without breaking a sweat, but watching her go through labor knocks the breath out of me.

She turns her head, eyes blazing despite the exhaustion.

“Pavel,” she grits out between contractions. “I love you to pieces, but if you tell me to breathe one more time, I swear—”

Another contraction seizes her, cutting off whatever threat she was about to issue. I rub her back, feeling completely useless, but desperate to do something.

The nurses in the room are infinitely calmer than either of us, and they coach her through each step. “You’re doing amazing, Mrs. Fetisova. Just a little more.”

Amazing? My wife is a damn warrior.

Kat screams, throwing her head back as she gives one last push. Time slows, stretching out with unbearable tension, and then—a sharp, furious wail shatters the room.

My lungs finally start working again. The nurses check him over. The second they place our son in Kat’s arms, my whole world narrows down to one moment.

Kat, exhausted, stares at him like he’s the greatest thing.

And he is.

He’s tiny, with a wrinkled little face that’s absolutely perfect.

My chest tightens with something fierce and familiar, similar to what I felt when I found out Ana was mine. Love, of course, but bigger, heavier, a responsibility I never knew I was capable of holding.

Kat glances up at me, her lips curling into a tired smile. “We made this.”

I laugh. “We did.”

The baby lets out another little cry. I let go of Kat’s hand to gently brush a fingertip across his soft forehead. He’s so small, so delicate, but at the same time, he’s everything.

“We still haven’t picked a name,” Kat points out, stroking his tiny back.

We’ve spent months going back and forth, shooting down each other’s suggestions, never quite settling on anything. But looking at him now, I know.

“I think I have one,” I say, clearing my throat. “Mikhail.”

Kat’s eyes widen, fresh tears welling up. “My father’s name?”

I nod. “He should have something of his grandfather’s, something of both families.”

She presses her lips together, cradling our son closer. “Mikhail Andreev Fetisov,” she whispers, testing it out. Then she looks at me, her expression soft and loving. “It’s perfect.”

“Yes,” I say, leaning in to kiss her temple, then the tiny bundle in her arms. “Just like him.”

The baby makes a slight noise as he settles against Kat’s chest, his tiny fingers curling. I watch him, completely lost in the moment.

We’ve fought for this—through hell and back. And now, finally, we have something untouched by all the violence, all the pain.

We have him.

She gives me a tired smile. “I love you,” she whispers, breath catching on the last word.

I set my forehead against hers.

“I love you,” I echo.

Kat sniffles, then laughs, brushing away fresh tears as she gazes down at Mikhail. “He’s…he’s just so…perfect,” she says, and I couldn’t agree more.

A nurse steps forward, offering a gentle smile. “We need to do a few quick tests, all routine, but we can do everything right here.”

Kat hesitates, arms instinctively tightening around Mikhail. I squeeze her hand, reassuring her.

“He’ll be okay. We can watch the whole time.”

She exhales slowly and nods, allowing the nurse to take our son to a small station on the other side of the room.

I stay by Kat’s side, my eyes glued to Mikhail as they weigh him, check his tiny limbs, and clean him up.

His soft cries tug at my heartstrings, but the nurse hums soothingly, working with practiced hands.

The quiet doesn’t last long. A soft knock at the door makes us both look up. Ana peeks inside, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Mama? Papa?”

My heart still stumbles at the word Papa. She’s called me Papa for months now, but hearing it in this moment, as she steps into the room to meet her baby brother, feels like something sacred.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Kat says, her voice thick with emotion.

Ana rushes inside, her little legs carrying her straight to the bed. Vlad follows close behind, looking strong and steady, a far cry from the battered man he was months ago. Camille is beside him, a loving smile on her lips as she watches Ana climb up onto the bed with Kat’s help.

Ana’s eyes go wide as she takes in the empty blanket where the baby should be. She frowns.

“Where’s my brother?”

Kat brushes a hand over her hair. “The doctors and nurses are just checking him over. See?” She points across the room where Mikhail is being carefully wrapped in a fresh blanket, a tiny diaper covering his bottom.

Ana considers this, then nods seriously, as if weighing the importance of medical procedures. “Okay. But I want to see him first next time.”

Vlad chuckles, ruffling her curls. “I’m sure we can arrange that, little lady.”

Camille perches on the edge of the bed, watching Kat with fondness. “You did amazing,” she says. “And look at you—already glowing and still beautiful after just giving birth. It’s almost unfair.”

Kat snorts, wiping at her tired eyes. “Liar. I look like I just went to war.”

Camille grins. “And you won.”

Before Kat can reply, the nurse turns to us, smiling. “All good. He’s healthy and strong.” She carefully lifts Mikhail, bringing him back over and placing him in Kat’s waiting arms.

Ana gasps. “He’s so little,” she whispers in awe.

Kat laughs softly. “You were this little once, too.”

Ana’s eyes widen as if that’s the most unbelievable thing she’s ever heard. Then she wiggles closer, her tiny hands resting carefully on the edge of Kat’s blanket.

“Can I hold him, Papa?”

I nod; my throat tight with emotion. “Of course, baby girl. But you have to sit down first.”

I lead Ana over to the guest chair then go back over to Kat. Carefully, she shifts Mikhail into my hands. Ana waits with open arms. I place Mikhail in her lap, supporting his head and explaining how to hold him, keeping my hands underneath hers for extra support. Camille presses a hand to her chest, beaming, as Vlad lets out a quiet chuckle.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, squeezing Ana’s shoulder. “Already the best big sister.”

Ana’s face lights up at the praise. “I’ll protect him,” she promises, her voice fierce, matter-of-fact, and full of love.

I slide an arm around Kat’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple. She leans into me, her hand resting over mine as we watch our family—the one we fought for, bled for, and built from the ashes of everything we lost.

Our family, whole and safe, finally stepping into the life we’ve built, the future we’re building.

“I think you can take him back now,” Ana says. Laughter fills the room.

I walk over and carefully take my son from Ana’s little arms then head back to Kat. “Welcome to the world, Mikhail,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss the top of his head. Kat squeezes my hand, and as I look into her tear-bright eyes, I know we’ve finally found our happily ever after.

Vlad clears his throat, smirking. “So, when’s the next one?”

Kat groans, but I just laugh, pulling her closer. “Let’s enjoy this one first.”

For now, the rest of the world can wait. All that matters is this moment, and the family we’ve become.