I know he won’t be long—Nikolai’s just downstairs in the security room. I lie back down, but the book’s forgotten.
I trust Viktor. And I trust all these men. But that doesn’t make the Gennady situation any easier to swallow.
Later that week, I can tell they’re gearing up for something.
The kids are playing in the rec room. Some of the men are starting a poker game, Sofia perched on Matvey’s lap. But most of them are piling into the SUVs outside. Something’s going down.
“Viktor?” I ask, watching him pause in the doorway. The tactical vest clings to his frame, blending with his black shirt and pants. He looks like he’s going to war.
I step closer. “What’s?—”
He shakes his head. “Keep your phone close. If anyone approaches the house—anything—you call me. Immediately. Then go to the safe room. Understand?”
“Okay.”
He lingers, like he wants to say more but can’t.
“Please be careful,” I whisper.
“I can take care of myself. You, Sofia, Leon—you’re the ones I’m worried about.”
I tug him toward me by his vest. “Don’t do anything stupid. I need you to come back.” There it is. The raw honesty I rarely speak. I’m scared. Because Geliy used to ignore my feelings. But Viktor? His expression softens.
He cups my face. “Don’t worry, I’m coming back to find you asleep in our bed.”
Our bed.Those two words make my heart beat so fast.
Then he takes a step back, turns, and follows the others out.
But when he returns later, he tells me it was a dead end. And when I finally fall asleep, all I can dream of is the man who’s haunted me since I was a child.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
VIKTOR
At the end of the week, I hang up the phone from the vet, the words still echoing in my head.
I took Queenie in yesterday, but the vet just told me that her fever spiked overnight. The words ‘further tests’ scrape across my nerves like razors.
She’s just a cat. She’s just a pet.
I try to remind myself of that. But I’ve watched an overstimulated Sofia melt and calm beside Queenie so many times. Sofia loves to relax by stroking Queenie’s soft fur and listening to her purrs. The animal helps soothe the little girl in a way nothing else does.
And even though I might try to deny it to myself, I know that Queenie has a very special place inside me too, and I can’t stop that squeeze in my heart whenever I see her stretching across the couch like she owns the place. She’s more than a cat. She’s more than a pet. She’sfamily.
And now she’s sick.
Sofia has been distraught since Queenie fell ill, and her reaction tugs hard at me. Right now, the little girl is curled up on the sofa, arms tightly hugging herself. The house feels wrong without Queenie’s low purr filling the corners. Too quiet. Like something’s missing—because it is.
I hate this feeling.Powerlessness.
Avelina’s voice is soft. “I’m going to make her some hot chocolate. Could you do a puzzle with her to try and distract her?”
Sofia’s mind is spinning just as much as mine. I nod, anxious to help in any way I can, even though I’m in a state too. I sit next to Sofia, leaving a couple of inches between us. She looks over at me. Her eyes are red and tired.
I don’t know what to say.
Then I pat my knee.
