Luckily, the semester’s almost over. Soon, I can hole up at home and hide under the covers with a good book. No classmates, no phantom eyes burning holes in my back. Just me, Petyr, and our baby growing inside me.
Unless he kicks me out tonight.
I shake my head. No. I need to trust him. I decided to believe in him, and that means I’m going to take this leap of faith. I have to. There’s no way this ends well otherwise.
Maybe, once I tell him the truth about my family, my anxiety will die down. It has to. Right now, the weight of my secrets is crushing me.
Once I come clean to Petyr, that weight will lift. And if he takes it well… if he decides he still wants me…
Then I won’t have to worry about it ever again.
When class finally ends, I stuff my things into my bag and hurry down the hall, desperate for air. My nerves are still stretched tight as I make my way towards the coffee shop near the main lobby, where Luka is waiting. The crowd of students surges around me, voices bouncing off the walls.
Then a hand clamps down on my arm.
“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”
My heart lodges in my throat. I know that voice. For the past twelve years, I’ve heard it in my nightmares.
I turn so slowly I might as well be dead.
A cruel smirk. Cruel eyes. A jagged scar along the jaw, the same sharp military haircut.
“So?” Anatoli grins. “Nothing to say to your big brother?”
55
PETYR
As I make my way through the winding hallways of the hospital, I pass by the maternity ward.
Specifically, the nursery.
I don’t usually stop on the way to my brother’s room. Ever. But tonight, something tugs me in the direction of those bundled up babies. So fragile-looking, so small.
My mind shifts to Sima. To the way her eyes widened when she told me she was pregnant, fear and hope tangled in the same breath.
I didn’t expect the rush I felt. Like something in me cracked open and light got in.
She’s carrying my child. My heir. And for the first time since taking thepakhan’s seat, I feel like there’s someone standing beside me.
I drag a hand down my face and catch my reflection in the glass. Eyes hard. Mouth tight, no upward curl.
I don’t look like a man on the verge of joy, even though that’s exactly what I am. I look like my father, the miserable bastard who never trusted anyone, not even his own blood.
Maybe that’s my fate, too. But when I think of Sima, warm in my bed, whispering sharp little jokes wrapped in nothing but sheets and the scent of me, I want to believe I can be more than that.
When I finally tear myself away and step into Dimitri’s hospital room, the antiseptic smell slaps me in the face. Machines beep, steady and merciless, as they keep my brother tethered to this world.
He hasn’t stirred. Hasn’t opened his eyes. The doctors said he won’t.
Still, I visit. I talk to him, because he’s my brother, and if there’s even one small chance he hears me, he’ll know he’s not alone.
I move closer to Dimitri’s bedside, pull up the chair that’s been worn down by too many visits, and sit.
“Things are finally looking up, Mitya,” I murmur. My fingers drum on the armrest before I still them. “Shipment’s sorted. And…” I pause. My lips melt into a smile before I can stop them. “Sima’s pregnant. You’re going to be an uncle.”
The words feel strange in my mouth, but good. Solid.
