Maksim's expression morphs. His shoulders square. His stance shifts. His focus locks on me like I've flipped a switch. He asks, "When did Adrian find out?"
I swallow, my throat tight. "I don't know if he found out. But if Red dies, my baby will grow up without a father. And I love Red. He...he keeps me from hurting myself." Fresh tears of shame drip off my chin.
Aspen grips me tighter. "What do you mean you hurt yourself?"
I shake my head. "It doesn't matter. All you need to know is that I need Red. For lots of reasons. Please. Don't let him die, Uncle Maksim."
His eyes stay on me.
"Please. My baby needs its father!" The lie sits heavy on my tongue, but if it saves Red's life, then it's worth it.
Aspen turns toward Maksim. She orders, "Go."
He glances at her.
"Now, Maksim. Bring Red back here," she demands.
He gazes down at me for another moment, then nods. "I'll try my best."
Aspen tugs me closer. "You're safe here."
"Please. Hurry," I sob.
Maksim walks toward the elevator and instructs, "Don't go anywhere." The elevator dings, he steps inside it, and the doors close.
I fold forward, my elbows on my knees, my head in my hands. My breath comes fast and uneven, my chest burning with every inhale.
Aunt Aspen crouches in front of me. "Blue. Look at me."
I don't want to. I'm afraid she'll see the truth written all over my face.
She waits until I lift my head.
She firmly asserts, "You're not alone. No matter what happens next."
I nod, but the guilt claws up my throat. I lied to my aunt and uncle.
I lied to save the man I love.
If Red survives, I'll deal with the fallout. If he doesn't, none of it will matter.
I sink back into the chair and stare at the elevator, my heart pounding, my mind racing, my body suspended in a moment that refuses to move forward.
Please get to him in time.
Please don't let my father win.
Please let the lie be enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Red
Concrete, disinfectant, sweat, and the metallic stench of my blood flare around me. The chair digs into my back, the metal cold even through my shirt. My wrists ache where the ties bite, my circulation returning in uneven pulses that crawl up my forearms.
Adrian paces in front of me, his shoes clicking in a precise rhythm, voice low and furious as he fires Russian at Mikhail, and who I've come to realize is Demi's father, Obrecht.
I keep my head up, trying not to look defiant or submissive, just present.
