I am hiding from potential assassins, questioning everything I thought I knew about my life, and now my brain wants to throw this at me too? As if I don’t already have enough to deal with.
I thought I wasn’t getting my period because of stress, but actually it’s because there’s potentially a tiny life growing inside of me right now.
I turn away from the mirror and pace the small bathroom, trying to burn off the restless energy building in my chest. The floor is cool beneath my feet. It helps ground me. I just need to think logically. Unfortunately, the more logically I try to think, the more the timing makes sense.
I feel suddenly lightheaded. I sink down onto the edge of the tub, one hand braced against the tile, breathing shallowly. The nausea surges again, stronger now, and I bend forward, pressing my forehead to my knees until it passes.
This cannot be happening.
I don’t even know how I would begin to handle this if it were true. My life is completely out of control right now. I don’t even know where I’ll be sleeping from one night to the next. There’s no stability at all. Until Andrei catches this mysterious assassin, I’m stuck in this strange, upside down world, filled with danger and constant movement.
I don’t know what Andrei would do if he found out. He’s already so protective of me, to the point that it drives me nuts. Imagine me pregnant? He’d probably force me to live in a plastic bubble and ship me off to some remote country just to be sure that no threat ever comes to me.
If I tell him before I know for sure, I lose control of the situation entirely. Before I can worry about any of that, though. I need information. I need confirmation. Which means I need a pregnancy test.
How exactly will I swing that without him knowing?
I’m going to have to be cunning about this, which isn’t exactly my strong suit. I don’t have the freedom to just run to a pharmacy. He won’t let me out of his sight, let alone make a run to a random store. I definitely can’t ask him if I can go without raising his suspicions. If I ask one of our guards to get one for me, he’s definitely going to hear about it.
Think, Alina. Think.There has to be a way to get one without tipping him off.
I move into the kitchen area quietly. The safehouse is still, the early hour stretching out ahead of me. I pour myself a glass of water and sip it slowly, watching my hands for signs of shaking. They’re steady. That’s good.
I glance toward the hallway where Andrei’s room is, my chest tightening. He’ll be awake soon if he isn’t already. I cannot let him have any hint that I’m freaking out right now. I need to be smart.
I spend the morning considering my options. After Andrei’s left the safehouse to take a meeting, I sit at the small kitchen table with a notebook in front of me, a pen balanced between my fingers, staring at the blank page like it might offer guidance. The nausea has faded into a low, persistent unease.
I tap the pen against the paper, then finally lower it and writePHARMACY RUNat the top in all caps. My stomach flips again, hard enough that I pause, pressing the pen tip into the page until it almost tears.
I write tamponsbeneath it, then immediately scribble it out and rewrite very detailed instructions. Any man will freak out at this, no matter how trained he is for combat. Men hate the idea of periods. That’s my only hope of exploiting some poor guard.
I chew on the end of the pen and start listing other things. Shampoo. Conditioner. Face wash. Deodorant.
The guards rotate shifts, but there’s one who’s been around more often than the others. He looks young. Early twenties, maybe. He’s polite in a way that feels almost normal. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to exploit his kindness today.
I step into the hallway and spot him almost immediately, leaning against the wall near the front door, phone in hand. He straightens when he sees me, slipping it into his pocket.
“Morning,” he says.
“Hi,” I reply, summoning my most casual tone. “Do you have a minute?”
He nods. “Of course.”
“I was wondering if I could make a quick run to the pharmacy,” I say as innocently as possible.
His brow furrows just slightly.
“I can check,” he says carefully. “But we might have to send someone for you.”
“I figured,” I say quickly, waving a hand. “I just need a few things. Personal stuff.”
I emphasize the wordpersonal, which makes him blush a little.
“Okay,” he answers a little uncomfortably.
I take that as encouragement and barrel forward before he can rethink it.
“It’s just that I’m very particular about my supplies,” I continue, pulling the notebook from behind my back like I’ve been hiding it for dramatic effect. “And if I don’t get the right ones, I will genuinely lose my mind.”
