"I'll kill them." The words come out flat, certain. "Anyone who tries to hurt you or our child, I'll kill them. I don't care who they are."
"Even if it costs you your life?"
"Yes."
She stares at me for a long moment, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "That's an easy thing to say."
"Then how do I prove it?" I demand, taking another step toward her. This time, she doesn't back away. "Tell me, Svetlana. What do I have to do to make you believe me? I've brought you here. I've kept you safe. I've given you everything I can think of to show you that I'm serious about this. About you. What more do you want?"
Her throat works as she swallows hard. "I don't know," she whispers. "I don't know if there's anything you can do. Because every time I start to believe you, I remember that you left me before. That when it mattered, when I needed someone, you chose Ilya over me."
"I know," I say quietly. "And I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But I'm here now. I'm choosing you now. Doesn't that count for something?"
"Maybe." She turns away from me, wrapping her arms around herself. "Maybe it does. But maybe it's not enough."
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. I want to grab her, shake her, make her see that I mean every word I've said. That I would burn the world down for her if that's what it takes.
But I also know that won't work. Svetlana doesn't respond to force. She responds to proof. To action. And so far, everything I've done has only convinced her that I'm dangerous and obsessed, not that I love her.
Love.
The word echoes in my mind, and I realize with a jolt that it's true. Somewhere between rescuing her from that compound in Russia and sitting with her here, talking about a future for a baby that might not even be mine, I've fallen in love with her.
"What would you do if I was gone?" she asks suddenly, still not looking at me. "If something happened to me. If they took me again and you couldn't get me back. What would you do?"
"I'd rather die."
The words come out without thought, without hesitation. Because they're true. The idea of a world without Svetlana in it, without her sharp tongue and sharper mind, without the possibility of seeing her smile at me the way she smiled in those photos she took that I saw in her apartment?—
I can't bear it.
She turns back to face me, and I see tears shining in her eyes. "That's an easy thing to say," she repeats, but her voice is softer now. Less certain.
"How do I prove it?" I ask again. "Tell me how, and I'll do it."
For a long moment, she just looks at me. Then, without a word, she gets up and walks toward the bedroom.
I follow, unable to stop myself. Unable to let her walk away from me again. She stops just inside the doorway, and I nearly run into her. And then, as I look into the room, I see something on the bed that catches my attention.
Her camera is on the bed, the back panel lit up to reveal the most recently taken photo.
It’s a photo of me.
I've seen her with the camera before in the apartment, out of the corner of my eye as I’ve done other things. I assumed she was photographing the space, trying to keep herself occupied. I didn't realize she'd been photographing me.
I move past her, picking up the camera carefully. The photo in the back shows me sitting on the couch, my head tilted back, eyes closed. I look exhausted. Vulnerable in a way I never allow myself to be around anyone else.
"There are more," Svetlana says quietly behind me.
I look at her, then back at the camera. My hands are shaking slightly as I advance it forward, looking at the next photo. Me in the kitchen, making coffee. Then another. Me standing at the window, looking out at the city. Another. Me asleep on the couch, one arm thrown over my face. Another of me in the doorway of my bedroom, my back to her, shirtless.
There are at least a dozen photos. All of me, taken when I didn't know she was watching.
"Why?" I ask, my voice rough as I glance back at her.
"You're a good subject," she says, trying to sound casual, but her cheeks flush pink as she says it.
"A good subject." I set the camera down carefully, turning to face her fully. "Is that all?"
