A shaky laugh escapes me. “You call this restrained?”
“You’re breathing,” she says. “Your daughter is in your arms. That’s more than many people get when they brush against his world.”
Aleksander’s presence hangs between us, obvious, heavy.
I don’t say his name. I don’t need to. We’re both thinking it.
Irina steps back, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from her sleeve. “You may think I’m overestimating your importance,” she says. “You’ll see how wrong you are when he realizes you’re gone.”
A cold weight settles in my stomach.
He’ll come.
That’s what she’s counting on.
And I’m standing here with Lily on my hip, trapped in a house built on grudges I don’t understand, realizing that three years ago I didn’t just fall for the wrong man.
I stepped into a war I never agreed to fight.
They bring us back to the room after that conversation with Irina, and for a while I feel like my body is just…empty. Running on fumes.
At some point I curl up on the bed with Lily, just to calm her down, telling her silly stories until her eyelashes droop. The mattress is absurdly soft, the sheets cool and clean. It feelswrong that something can be this comfortable while my brain is chewing itself alive.
We both end up passing out.
When I wake, the light in the room has shifted. The sky outside the big window is darker, a deep blue fading toward night. My muscles ache in that slow, heavy way that comes from too much stress and not enough food.
Lily is stretched out on her back beside me, babbling softly to herself, holding her own foot and poking at her toes like they’re the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.
“Hey, munchkin,” I murmur, brushing her hair back. “You have a good nap?”
She gives me a sleepy little smile and goes back to mumbling nonsense, kicking her legs against the duvet.
I pull myself up and pad over to the window.
Outside, the estate looks different at night. The driveway is lit, the big front fountain glowing in pale yellow light. And there are cars. A lot of them. Sleek, dark shapes gliding in through the gates, one after another. Men in suits getting out. Women in dresses that skim glitter and silk. Voices float up faintly when doors open, then vanish again.
A party.
Here.
My stomach tightens. It feels surreal, watching people arrive like it’s just another evening out, while I’m locked upstairs with a toddler, trying not to panic.
“Mama,” Lily calls behind me, and I turn. She’s sitting up now, reaching for me.
I go back and scoop her up, resting her on my hip. “That’s right. I’m here.”
As if on cue, the doorknob turns.
I tense, tightening my grip on Lily.
The door opens and Selene slips in, closing it behind her with her foot. She’s in black jeans and a thin knit top, hair pulled back messily, a dress draped over one arm.
“Knock knock,” she says lightly. “Well. Not really. They don’t love it when I knock.”
I glance at the dress. It’s simple but expensive, deep green, the kind of thing that fits in at a rich person’s party without screaming for attention.
“What’s going on outside?” I ask, nodding toward the window. “There are cars coming in. People.”
