“Don’t. Don’t say it. Don’t think it. We have to stay positive.”
I love my sister. I really do, but her personality is the total opposite of mine. I’ve done all I could to make sure she could be all peace and love. But right now…no. I’m pissed. Negative. Terrified. I don’t want to be a cheerleader. I don’t want to look for the silver lining.
I want to scream and rage.
"So, what's the plan?" Anya asks suddenly. "After this is over. Are you and Maksim leaving Russia?"
I glance at her. She's staring straight ahead at the warehouse, but I can tell by the forced casualness in her voice that she's trying to distract me.
"I don't know," I admit. "We haven't really talked about it."
"But you're thinking about it."
"Of course I'm thinking about it." My hands tighten on the wheel. "Raising a child here, in this world? It's not exactly ideal."
"Where would you go?"
"Anywhere. Everywhere." I echo Maksim's words from days ago. "Somewhere the bratva doesn't reach."
"Does that place even exist?"
"It has to."
More gunfire erupts from the warehouse. I flinch at each crack, imagining Maksim in the middle of it. Dodging bullets. Fighting for his life.
"He's going to be okay," Anya says softly. "He survived six years of torture. He can survive this."
"Can he?" The words burst out of me. "Anya, he's already been shot twice in the last two weeks. His body is held together with stitches and stubbornness. How much more can he take?"
"As much as he needs to. Because he loves you. Because he has something to fight for now."
I want to believe her. Want to have her optimism.
But I've seen too much death to trust in happy endings.
"What about you?" I ask, deflecting. "What will you do after?"
"I don’t know. I’d still like to go to Paris.”
“Good. I want you to.”
The gunfire intensifies. I count the shots, trying to distinguish between different weapons. Trying to figure out who's winning.
"Tell me about the baby," Anya says. "Have you thought about names?"
"Not really." Though that's a lie. I've thought about little else during the quiet moments. "It's too early. I don't even know if it's a boy or girl yet."
"But if you had to guess?"
"A boy." I don't know why I think that. Just a feeling. "With Maksim's eyes and stubborn streak."
"God help you if they inherit both your personalities." Anya actually laughs.
I'm about to respond when the first explosion hits.
The shockwave slams into our car even from a block away. The windows rattle. The entire vehicle rocks on its suspension. My hands jerk on the steering wheel reflexively.
"What was that?" Anya gasps.
