Too late for that last one.
I nodded mutely and fled toward the kitchen, my heart hammering against my ribs. Behind me, the voices resumed.
I made it to the kitchen and collapsed into a chair, my hands shaking too badly to even attempt making coffee. The letter was still hidden upstairs, tucked behind cleaning supplies like a ticking bomb. My father’s words echoed in my skull.
Trust no one.
But I had to trust someone. Didn’t I?
The problem was, I didn’t know who thatsomeonecould be anymore.
**********
I was still sitting there, staring at nothing, when Anya found me an hour later.
“Hey, you.” She swept into the kitchen with her usual brightness, but it dimmed when she saw my face. “Mila? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” The lie tasted bitter. “Just tired.”
“Bullshit.” She poured two cups of coffee and sat across from me, her expression shifting from concerned friend to something more serious. “Viktor told me what happened. The breach. Everyone’s on edge.”
“I don’t know anything about it.”
“I didn’t say you did.” But her eyes were too knowing, too gentle. “Mila, are you… are you hiding anything?”
The question landed like a blow.
I looked at her—my best friend, maybe the only person left in the world who’d known me before all this. Before Alexei, before the violence, before I’d learned to sleep with bruises on my throat and lies on my tongue. She would understand, wouldn’t she? She would help me figure out what to do about my father, about the letters, about the impossible position I’d found myself in.
I opened my mouth to tell her everything.
Then I imagined Anya going to Viktor. Viktor asking Alexei if he knew about all of it. Alexei’s face when he realized I’d hidden information that could affect the safety of everyone in this house—and that it came from someone else and not me.
The consequences would be worse than silence. So much worse.
“No,” I whispered. “I’m not hiding anything.”
Anya studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she reached across and squeezed my hand. “If you were, you know you could tell me, right? I wouldn’t judge. I’d just… I’d want to help.”
Tears burned the back of my throat. “I know.”
“Alexei cares deeply about you.” She said it gently, like she was trying to convince me of something I should already believe. “Whatever’s happening, whatever you’re afraid of—he’d protect you. You know that, right?”
“Would he?” The question escaped before I could stop it. “Or would he just eliminate the threat?”
Understanding flickered across her face. “You’re afraid he’d choose the Bratva over you.”
“No, I know he’ll choose me,” I said, chuckling wryly.
“Exactly!”
That’s what makes it worse, dear friend.
**********
I spent the afternoon in the library before heading to our bedroom.
I sat by the window, tracing my fingers over my stomach absently, a nervous habit I’d developed in the last few weeks. The light outside faded from grey to black, winter darkness swallowing the city whole. I watched snow begin to fall in thick, silent flakes.
