“Let us go home,” she cuts me off before I can say“you’ll be safer here.”
“No.”
“I want answers. And I want them now.”
I arch a brow. “About?”
She throws her hands up in frustration. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m angry. Why are we here, Leonid? Why drag us across the world to… this?” She waves a hand vaguely at the pristine, snow-covered landscape as if it offends her.
I don’t answer immediately, glancing over her shoulder at Elijah. “Nothing that concerns you.”
She steps closer, close enough that I can see the tiny freckle near her right eye. “What do you know about Stephan?”
The name hits like ice water. I keep my face blank, but she catches something—she always does. Her eyes narrow into blue slits.
She steps closer still, her voice dropping to an icy hiss. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Leonid.”
“This isn’t a discussion,” I say firmly, my tone cutting.
“It damn well is,” she fires back, her cheeks flushed with more than just the cold. “You dragged us here, uprooted everything—for what?To play puppet master? To keep me and Elijah in the dark?”
I straighten to my full height, my hands sliding out of my coat pockets as I square my shoulders. Her defiance sparks something in me—a fire I don’t want to name, let alone feel. She’s right in front of me now, her anger radiating, but I don’t back away. Instead, I lean forward just enough to close the gap, meeting her glare head-on.
“You’re not in charge here, Clara,” I tell her, “You’ll stay where I put you, and you’ll do what I tell you to do. That’s how this works.”
Her breath catches, and I don’t miss the flicker of fury in her eyes as my words sink in.
“And Stephan?” I continue, my tone colder now, slicing through the frost in the air. “He isn’t your concern. Not anymore.”
She stiffens, and for a second, I think she’s going to shove me. Her lips press into a tight line, and for a moment, I think she’s about to scream. But then a softthwackinterrupts her, and I glance down to see snow sliding off my coat.
“Elijah!” she gasps, her voice laced with shock. I look over her shoulder to see him standing with another snowball already in hand, his face red with a mix of cold and frustration.
“You’re mean!” he shouts, glaring at me. “You’re making Mommy upset!”
The sting of his words is sharper than the snow, and I stand there for a beat, frozen. He’s right, and I hate how he looks at me.
I crouch slowly, my hand sinking into the snow. “Alright,” I say, my tone softer now. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Elijah blinks, surprised, before his face breaks into a grin. He hurls the next snowball, but I’m ready this time, dodgingit easily. Clara watches in stunned silence as I toss one back, deliberately aiming wide.
“Elijah,” I call out, smirking. “You’re gonna need to try harder than that.”
Elijah squeals with laughter as I lob another snowball his way, deliberately missing by inches. He scrambles to gather more snow, his little hands barely able to pack it before he’s throwing again. His joy is infectious, the kind that fills the cold air and chips away at the tension lingering between me and Clara.
I glance at her, expecting her to still be fuming, but something in her expression has softened. She watches Elijah, her arms still crossed, but her breathing slows, and I can almost see the fight draining out of her.
“Clara,” I call out, my smirk widening as another snowball sails past me. “You’re just going to stand there, or are you going to pick a side?”
Her brow arches, and she tilts her head, skeptical. “You’re kidding.”
“Does it look like I’m kidding?” I pack another snowball and let it fly, this one landing squarely near Elijah’s boots. He squeals again, aiming his retaliation at my chest.
“You’re insane,” she mutters, but I catch the faintest twitch of her lips like she’s trying not to smile.
“Mommy, come on!” Elijah yells, his grin so wide it’s impossible to resist. He waves her over with one hand while clutching a lumpy snowball with the other. “You gotta help me get him!”
Clara sighs, letting out a visible breath in the cold air. She crouches, grabbing a handful of snow, her movements deliberate. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she throws it—right at me.
