Page 158 of Betrayal and Vows

Chapter 26

Lena

It's been a week since we crossed the border, and I can see Anton unraveling.

The cottage is barely more than four walls and a roof—one room with a wood stove that smokes when the wind shifts.

The kitchen is the size of a closet, and no electricity.

We have candles and oil lamps and each other.

But Anton paces like a caged animal, checking the single window every few minutes, his jaw clenched with frustration.

We’re both waiting.

Waiting to die.

Waiting to live.

Waiting.

"The contact was supposed to be here three days ago," he mutters, running his hands through his hair. "Something's wrong."

I look up from the book I'm pretending to read.

It's in Georgian, so I can't understand a word anyway.

My nanny had been from Georgia and I knew some words but not enough to understand a story.

The idea was to look calm. I’m hoping to settle Anton by appearing to be completely unbothered by our situation.

Which is dire.

We’re rationing food, but that will only last us for so long.

"Maybe he's being careful. Maybe?—"

"Maybe he's dead. Maybe Vadim got to him. Maybe we're trapped here while they close in on us." His voice is sharp with self-recrimination. "I should have had a backup plan. Should have?—"

"Anton." I set the book aside and stand. "Stop."

He turns to me, his blue eyes wild with guilt and rage. "This isn't what you deserve, Lena. Hiding in some hovel, eating stale bread and canned soup. You should be?—"

"I should be married to Mikhail." The words stop him cold. "Is that what you think I deserve? A palace prison with a monster for a husband?"

"No, but?—"

"Then stop apologizing." I cross to him, placing my hands on his chest. "I don't care about electricity or hot showers or fancy food. I care about being with you."

He covers my hands with his, but I can feel the tension thrumming through him. "You shouldn't have to live like this."

"Like what? Free?" I laugh softly. "Anton, this is the first time in my life I've ever chosen where to sleep, what to eat, when to wake up. This cottage might be falling apart, but it's ours. No guards, no surveillance, no one telling us what to do."

"We're fugitives."

"We're together." I reach up to cup his face. "That's all that matters to me."

He leans into my touch, his eyes closing briefly. When he opens them again, some of the wildness has faded. "I'm working on getting us out of here.”