“I want to find out how her mother died and if Aslanov was involved in it all.”
Timur goes quiet, which means he’s thinking. Probably, he’s thinking over Aslanov’s involvement the same way I am. “You know how complicated that is, and I can’t just—”
“I know.” I cut him off. “All I ask is that you look into it.”
Timur releases a sigh. “Alright. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Khoroshiy.Call me if you have anything,” I say, ending the call and tossing the phone on my desk.
I recline in my chair, staring at the wall.
If I’m right about the death of Lauren’s mother being linked to Aslanov, it’s one more reason for the motherfucker to die.
I crack my knuckles and stretch them out. The man is no longer just lurking in the shadows. He’s on the hunt, like a nocturnal animal stalking its prey. He made that obvious the moment he sent someone to take care of Lauren. I can almost taste his presence on my tongue, and soon, I’ll make sure I’m tasting his blood.
It’s not just about me or the Bratva anymore. It’s about Lauren too. And the child she’s carrying.Mychild.
The stakes have never been this high, and with a woman in my life, this is unknown territory for me.
But two things are certain.
It’s only a matter of time before Aslanov strikes again.
And when he does, I’ll be there.
And I won’t stop until I’m washing his blood off my hands.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lauren
I snap awake for the second time today.
Pain shoots through my chest when I realize I’m alone, but it soon eases when I pat the space next to me. It’s still warm, and there’s a dent in the mattress from when Nikolai was sleeping next to me.
For the first time, it brings a small smile to my face.
The day is drawing to a close, judging from the dull, gray sky outside. Today has been strange. I have been in bed all day, but my body feels restored. When I go to stretch, I feel life in my muscles again. I don’t even realize how tense they’ve been until now.
It’s almost like I’ve been reborn.
I collapse back into the bed, allowing the pillow to catch my head and take my weight. There’s a strange, harmonious feeling in the air around me. It takes me back to when my mother was alive.
She was the nurturing one. The one who made me feel reassured. Her presence injected something positive into the air every morning that made life feel sweet. And now, years later, as I lie here in Nikolai’s bed, I feel the exact same way.
A soft knock at the door jolts me from my thoughts. I sit up as Nikolai enters. There’s no urge to straighten my posture anymore. I don’t feel the need to challenge him with my eyes, or present myself in a way that will give him the impression that I’m not to be messed with.
“You awake?”
“Uh-huh,” I say, my voice still thick with sleep.
The door widens. I don’t know how I expected him to look, but it wasn’t this. He isn’t wearing a suit. Instead, he wears a plain gray t-shirt that drapes from his shoulders. A black pair of sweatpants hangs loosely from his hips, totally different from what I’m used to seeing him wear.
“I’m ordering dinner. Thai okay?”
An involuntary smile tugs at my lips. “Yeah, sounds good.”
He eyes me for a moment and I meet his gaze. It’s like there’s this quiet understanding between us that we’re no longer enemies in competition. Even though I don’t think we quite know what we mean to each other yet.
