Timur quietly mutters something in Russian under his breath, something that sounds like a prayer.
Tears fall down my face in an endless cascade. I continue crying, pain drilling a hole in my chest. I want it to go all the way through. I want the pain to continue piercing through my heart like a spear, in through one side, out the other, killing me. I want to follow him, to be released from this hell, but for my daughter, I must live.
Not only that.
She is the only piece of Nikolai I have left.
And even though her father is gone forever, I must stay alive in honor of them both.
It’s what I’ve been left here to do.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Lauren
I enter my apartment and lock the door behind me, bags of groceries in my hands.
I have only been holding them since I got out of the car, but already I feel them weighing me down, my forearms aching like I carried them all the way from the store. I dump them on the table and collapse into the chair, the weight of the world suddenly crashing down on me. Resting a hand on my lower abdomen brings tears to my eyes every time—today is no exception.
Two weeks.
Two weeks have passed, and they’ve been the longest two weeks of my life.
This is the first time I have left the apartment for groceries. For the first two weeks, I just kept ordering takeout. I could barely eat for the first week—every time I did, I felt nauseous. I was practically spoon-feeding myself, not for my own sake, but for my baby’s.
Ourbaby’s.
The start of this week has been a little better, but not by much. I felt hunger for the first time. Grilled chicken. Mashed potatoes. Broccoli. All the protein and fiber a developing human being needs.
The thought of keeping my baby girl well-fed makes me feel slightly better, the knowledge taking me out of my head for a few passing moments. But my mind likes to remind me of the gunshots every two minutes, the sound of them still echoing through my whole body, shaking me to the bone.
He’s gone.
Niko’s gone.
I’m still in denial.
I guess that’s normal. Denial is the first stage of grief, but still, two weeks later, it doesn’t feel real. I sit, hand to my temple, and stare into my living area. It feels like only yesterday when he was lurking behind me, watching me tap away on my computer searching for answers. I can’t sit on that couch anymore. It’s where we made love for the first time, when I was still in complete denial about him. Where it all began.
My stomach churns.
I fish through the grocery bags and take out a bar of dark chocolate, breaking off the corner. I shove it in my mouth, forcing myself to chew—even a movement as simple as that takes great effort. The strong taste of cocoa feels like a kick to my taste buds, my tongue reveling in the rich flavor, but it doesn’t improve my mood.
Much like going outside today.
The only reason I left the house was because I thought it would make me feel better. Besides, my father was caught last week, so it made me feel safer knowing that he was no longer out there watching.
The feds are investigating his case. I’m not too sure how it happened, what or who gave him away. I just received a call last week from the cops, waking me from a very light sleep. They called me to ask some questions, not even apologizing for my loss because, of course, how the hell would they know what Nikolai Rogov meant to me.
They didn’t even ask about Ronan Aslanov. His entire empire remains off their radar. That is how powerful he is.
But not my father. He’s already in custody and although he has a good lawyer, things aren’t exactly looking up for him. Part of me feels sorry for him. Another part hopes he gets convicted. If he was willing to collaborate with someone like Aslanov, tosacrifice my mom like she was just another business transaction, I dread to think what else he would do if he were released.
I push the chocolate aside, staring into space.
I visited Sophia and Timur at the start of this week. That was the only time I left the house besides today. They invited me over and I agreed because I thought it would be good to be around people who understand the gravity of what had happened. They’re the only two people I can lean on for support.
To be honest, seeing them made things worse.
