Your parents couldn’t keepyousafe…
But they didn’t have the resources I have, the ruthless training I’ve spent my whole life perfecting, or even a fraction of my net worth.
I did wonder when it first happened what could have gotten my family killed. I’m not naïve enough to believe it didn’t change me in a fundamental way. Coming to Alyona’s aid last night andalmost feeling my heart burst from my chest at the fear of what I’d find when walking through the door is telling enough, but that’s buried trauma. We all carry that.
It’s all been a little bit murky though. As if, until the moment I saw Roza, I’d pushed that time in my life to the dark recesses of my mind.
What I do remember is we had originally moved to Russia to flee from something terrible my brother had done. He was always bringing trouble to the house. But that was where my curiosity ended. I was too busy building an empire with Rodion to let the past take up space in my mind. Now I want to know if there’s anything in my history that could endanger Roza. Ineedto know. Every potential enemy or problem will need to be intensely scrutinized and dealt with. Immediately.
“You can talk to her, you know. She can understand some things,” Alyona says, coming from the kitchen with a snack for Roza.
I’m in awe as the little girl—ourlittle girl—claps her hands and then gets to her feet. She toddles toward Alyona, wobbling and unsteady, and falls on her butt as soon as the snack is in her grip. So fucking cute.
I’m surprised how well Alyona looks today. The fluids and antibiotics worked like magic. There's color in her cheeks and life in her eyes. We spent the morning just being in each other's presence.
“You love your cookies, don’t you, Roza?” Alyona coos down at our daughter, swiping a cloth over her mouth to collect dribble.
I have no experience with babies, but I’m pretty sure ours is perfect. I don’t understand why baby age is calculated in months. Still, when I asked Alyona about Roza’s age, she proudly announced that she is fifteen months old and has met all her developmental milestones. Whatever the fuck that means, I planto find out. I want to know everything a parent should. I’m going to be what she needs.
Everything she does is so second nature to her. Alyona is a far cry from the woman who left us so long ago. She’s a mom, and apparently, a good one. A pang of pride shoots through me, much to my irritation.
“Is Roza a nickname for anything?” I ask, my eyes watching the sweet girl finish her weird looking cookie that appears to melt as soon as it gets wet. It wasn’t lost on me when I saw her name written above her crib that it’s a combination of Rodion’s and my name.
“I wanted her to carry a piece of her daddies with her always,” Alyona replies, sipping a mug of coffee, eyes twinkling wistfully.
I suppress the sharp retort that rises on my tongue, aware that my frustration over her decision to keep Roza from us will only lead us in endless circles.
“I need you to make me a promise, Alyona,” I say firmly, making a conscious effort to stop staring at her bare legs and hard nipples poking through the thin fabric or her shirt that she put on when giving me mine back. Now I have her scent all over me and it’s intoxicating.Incredibly distracting.
“What?” She puts her mug down and faces me fully.
“You can never disappear again. Especially now that we have her.” There’s a fear building in my gut, low and unsettling. I can’t fucking lose them. I need to get them somewhere safe and take out the people here to spy before they report back to Yuri.
My mind races with all the things I must do.
“Alyona,” I growl, when she doesn’t answer me. I rise to my feet and close the distance between us. I take her chin between my forefinger and thumb, tilting her head up to meet mine. The turmoil in her eyes matches the intensity in my own. “Promise me.”
I need to trust her. I need her to convince me, or I might just find a remote island, fly us all there, and keep her as a fucking prisoner.
Rodion would love to do that.
After a few silent beats, that have me counting far too many Mississippis in my head, she bobs her head. “I promise.”
Do I believe her? Why the hesitation?
She takes my hand, removes it from her chin, and cradles my face. “I promise.” This time it’s fierce and steady. Again, she whispers, “I promise.”
This time I believe her. Her words wrap around me, calming the raging storm inside me.
“I’m sorry, Z.” She sniffles and before she can pull away, I grasp her face and bring her lips to mine. I steal what I need from her. Contact, warmth, proof she’s okay after finding her like we did. It’s fast and firm and I pull away a second later, leaving the room to get my head on straight.
With Rodion, I’ve never felt a shred of insecurity about who we are to each other. We’re a cohesive unit, perfectly in sync, and we understand each other on a level no one else has matched. But with Alyona, I feel fragile, like I’m walking a tight rope toward her that can snap at any second. She still owns a part of me, and how I feel hasn’t wavered with time. Everything within me aches to reclaim her as truly ours again, to bridge the distance that separates us. But I’m still so fucking angry and paralyzed by the fear that she will run again. I’m holding my breath, suspended in uncertainty, waiting to exhale. I hate it and want to put my fist through a wall, or someone’s face. I need a release.
“Rodion’s back,” Alyona calls out when the front door opens.
Good, I’m famished, and Alyona only stocks baby crap. There wasn’t anything fit for adult consumption in her fridge, and when I called her out, she shrugged and said she orders in.
Rodion took her car to go get food and has been gone ages.
