Then he had turned to me.
That had landed differently. He had wanted me to share the moment. Not as an observer—as the other parent. The person who was supposed to be there.
I sighed and tilted my head back.
He was a strange man. Singular in his distinct way and I had no idea what to do with him—which was a new problem, because I had always known exactly what my plan was before. Our children would need me to ensure they didn’t end up emotionally deficient like their father. That much was clear.
I gave myself a final check in the mirror before turning to the door.
As strange as all of it was, tonight had revealed another layer of him. Which was the most unsettling thing about it—not that he was cruel, but that he wasn’t only cruel. It was best to remain on my guard. He hadn’t mentioned the contract or his past behaviour. Neither had I. We were both circling something we hadn’t named yet.
He had me in the east wing now. His space. Using Runa as a buffer and knowing exactly what he was doing.
I straightened my spine, raised my chin and walked toward our table.
The restaurant was quieter than before—a few empty tables, the settled hush of an evening winding down. I scanned it out of habit. Old instincts.
As I drew closer I watched Vadim crush his cigarette out with the focused force of a man imagining it was someone’s skull.
The man needed anger management classes.
I pulled out my chair.
He stared at me for a moment before placing a small metal case on the table. He hadn’t had it when he came into the restaurant. I glanced around—Tikhon standing a few feet away beside a pillar, Bogdan missing from his post.
“The pregnancy test will just be a formality,” he said, clicking the metal latches open.“We both know how hard I worked to impregnate you.”
I rolled my eyes. Even so, my mind went straight to the table in the basement.
He turned the case toward me.
Inside was a small silver pistol. Compact enough to disappear into any bag. I touched the cold metal, tracing the grooves with my fingertips until I reached the grip—designed to be held, designed to be used. The magazine sat beside it in a fitted cutout.
I lifted the gun out. Such a small thing to take a life with.
But a terrible method. You might as well leave your name and address beside the body. Ballistics. Residue. Entry wounds. Law enforcement wouldn’t need to think twice.
Poison, on the other hand—
“For your safety,” he said, his hand closing over mine.
My breath caught at the back of my throat. The warmth of the evening vanished as a chill snaked up my spine.
Makari.
My vision blurred so suddenly that I looked away from him before he could see it. I placed the gun back into the foam placeholder with a hand that wasn’t entirely steady.
“What was he like?” I asked, placing my fingers over his wrist. The warmth of it was steadying. I pressed my fingertips down until I felt the pulse beneath—steady, present, alive.“Makari.”
I let the tears fall. Unashamed.
“Small. Too small.” He paused.“He looked as though he were asleep. He had my hair.”
More tears followed. I nodded.
“Your genes probably go in and take charge,” I said, reaching for a napkin.
“I didn’t mean to keep him from you,” he said.
