I glance at him. “Smells like freedom.”
He huffs a laugh but doesn’t argue.
A moment later, Luk follows. “You know,” he says, “we were one step away. If Elena hadn’t put in that blind spot…”
The thought hangs there between us. It doesn’t need finishing.
None of us say a word for a while. We just stand outside the prison like we’ve just climbed out of a grave.
Luk cracks his knuckles. “We’re lucky bastards, you guys know that?”
No one disagrees.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, thumb hovering as the screen lights up.
When are you coming home?
The question is simple, but it hits deep. I don’t hesitate to respond.
On my way.
We head toward the black SUV parked just down the walk. Luk slides into the driver’s seat, Lev climbs in the back.
I take one last look over my shoulder as we drive away. The prison looms in the distance in stony silence. I don’t feel sorry for De la Rosa, but I do feel the weight of what almost was.
CHAPTER 43
ASTRID
The wind is softer this high up.
I stand barefoot on Yuri’s balcony, one hand resting lightly on the glass railing, the other curved instinctively over the swell of my stomach. The city stretches out below me, glittering and alive, quiet in this hour between night and morning.
It feels safe. Finally.
God, I hope it’s really over.
Everything that happened keeps looping in my mind like a fever dream. The blood, the shouting, the cold concrete stained with blood.
But we survived.
The thought is so enormous I can barely hold it. I close my eyes for a moment and press my palm more firmly against my belly.
“You hear that, kiddos?” I whisper. “We made it. We’re still here.”
A breeze curls around me, cool and calming. Far below, Chicago hums with its usual noise. But up here, it might as well be another world. I let the silence stretch. I need it. After everything, I need this one quiet minute to just be.
As I stand, I feel a flutter. Then another. I gasp softly as the babies kick. One-two, one-two, like little synchronized swimmers turning in time. My eyes sting immediately.
They’re telling me it’s going to be okay.
I laugh a little, breathless. “Alright, alright,” I murmur. “I get the message.”
The sound of my voice surprises me. It feels warm again. Peaceful.
I wipe my cheeks and make a mental note to call my foster parents. It’s been too long. I know they’re worried, even if they never say so. I can already hear my foster dad in my head—you don’t have to tell us everything, kiddo, just let us know you’re breathing.I promise myself I’ll call them tonight.
When the elevator chimes, my body tenses before I can stop it. I turn, one foot already back inside the penthouse. The doors begin to open, and for half a breath, I’m frozen. Irrational panic flares up. What if it’s Tatiana, or some loyalist of De la Rosa’s, or someone I didn’t even think to fear? What if this feeling of safety is nothing more than an illusion, and I’ve let myself relax too soon?
