“Don’t defend me.”
His gaze returned to the road.
“I should never have left you unprotected.”
“You offered to take me away,” I said quickly, reaching across the console.
My blood-crusted fingers covered one of his hands.
He didn’t pull away.
“Over and over,” I continued. “I was the one who refused. I was scared to leave California. Scared to uproot Daphne. Scared of change.”
My voice softened.
“None of us could have predicted this.”
Silence filled the car for a few seconds.
Then—
“When you’re stronger,” Ruslan said calmly, “you’ll watch your father die.”
My breath caught.
“Slowly.”
His voice lowered. “Painfully.”
He turned his head slightly, eyes meeting mine through the reflection of the mirror.
“Exactly as you asked.”
A dangerous promise.
He looked at me again.
Always checking. Always observing.
As if he needed visual confirmation that I was still breathing.
The rest of the drive passed in silence broken only by my quiet, uneven breathing.
I stared through the window at the coastline blurring past under the dark sky.
The ocean reflected faint lights from distant buildings.
Calm.
Unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded.
My thoughts drifted unwillingly.
Prison.Violation. Stillbirth. Kidnapping. Hargrove. Harris.
Another pregnancy ended in violence.
Another child lost before I could even whisper a name.
