“Yes, Tatiana. I know.”
“No, you don’t,” I say. My mouth goes dry as I stare at them both, the fear almost crippling me. “I’m pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” My father’s face splits into a smile, but Yanov’s face goes to slate. Suddenly, I see the picture form between them. Yanov has always been my father’s best spy. Of course he knows about me and Viktor. He might’ve known all along. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was he who spread the rumors in the first place.
But my father was clearly not truly aware. Our suspicions that he was in our relationship appear to be false. He snickers and says, “That’s a nice little lie, Tatiana. But you’ve been under close watch since you’ve been home. You cannot possibly be pregnant.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, “I think Yanov would know something about that. He is your best spy, right?”
My father’s smile disappears and he looks over his shoulder at Yanov. “What is she talking about?”
He hesitates for a moment, then, “I never had the chance to find out for sure, Nikolai.”
“Find outwhatfor sure? What haven’t you told me?”
“In a way, I did tell you, sir.” My father just stares until Yanov finally says, “The rumor. About Viktor.”
And finally, it clicks. My father turns to me, his eyes wide. In one fluid movement, he stands and his hand comes up quick, backhanding me hard across the face.
“Slut,” he spits in Russian. “Fucking whore!”
I’m seeing stars as he hits me again, harder this time, across my other cheek. I shout at him in Russian as blood fills my mouth. “He’s a better man than you have ever been!”
He grabs my neck and squeezes. “You filthy little tramp,” he spits. “I have been cursed every day since you were born.”
“Kill me and you kill your grandson,” I manage to say through my restricted airway. He squeezes harder.
“Good. No child should suffer being born through your vile womb.”
The corners of my vision start to darken. The monster hiding in my closet, under my bed, the thing in the shadows I’ve always feared. It was him. My entire life. The monster was always hovered over me like a harbinger waiting for this moment in time.
And now he’s the last face I’m ever going to see.I’m sorry, little one. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect us from him.
I hear muffled thumps somewhere in the distance. My father lets me go and air rushes back into my lungs. I lean forward and gasp big gulps of it as he steps away from me.
“Gunshots,” Yanov says, setting the pliers down. “We’ve got company.”
My father doesn’t have to give any orders because Yanov is already rushing toward the stairs.
But none of that matters right now. All that matters is the look on my father’s face—eyes widened, jaw clenched. I’ve never seen it before, but I know exactly what it is.
It’s fear. He knows what’s coming.
