Page 143 of Nemesis

The thought makes me uneasy. I will gladly pay whatever price she has bargained for, especially after she saved my sister. She has always accepted the child’s presence in our future, even when we were just two strangers huddled together in a cage. It shouldn’t come as a shock that she bargained for her safety in the middle of such a tumultuous moment—and yet, it does.

My head pounds from all the questions and possibilities swarming through, so I lean back in my seat and turn to the one thought that covers me in a soft blanket and lulls my racing pulse.

She called me “husband.”

That means I get to keep her, right?

Yeah.

Not gonna take any other explanation.

“Vasi, look!”

Anya practically bounces in excitement, straining against her seatbelt to look through the window as the plane touches down. She’s never been outside Russia before, but I made sure her tutors and nannies always spoke to her in English too. I guess some part of me knew I’d have to smuggle her out of the country to keep her safe.

“What do you think, zayka?” I ask softly, keeping an eye on the men shifting around us.

“No snow!” Her dark curls are wild and frizzy around her face from sleeping in my lap, and her blue eyes are wide with amazement.

“No snow,” I agree with a laugh, ruffling her head. “Are you ready to meet the ballerina?”

“Yes!” she squeals, and the noise vibrates through the plane. Several guys shoot irritated looks our way, and I meet each with a threatening glare of my own.

As the jet slows, navigating the cloudy New York tarmac, a fleet of black SUVs appears in the distance. My heart does a giddy little jump at the sight of the nearing vehicles. Before the plane even comes to a stop, I’m rising to help Anya into her jacket. She’s too excited to be remotely helpful, not that I blame her. I can’t even process my own exhilaration. She’s out there.

She bargained for my life.

There are so many words left unspoken between us. So many things I thought I’d have all the time in the world to say.

I lift Anya into my arms, settling her little body against my hip as we make our way towards the door. The hinge cracks open, and every ounce of oxygen sucks out of my lungs.

The sky meets the tarmac in an endless shade of grey, only broken up by the wall of figures lined up in front of the vehicles.

Solokov’s men, I recognize.

In front of everyone, a streak of red waves like a flag in the wind. Octavia stands as a queen before her subjects, decked out in black cargo pants and a fitted long-sleeve, various weapons glittering in silver streaks across her frame.

I have the strangest impulse to sink to my knees in prayer.

I don’t do that, though.

Because my feet are moving before my head even catches up to the action.

I race down the steps and across the tarmac, icy wind biting into my cheeks. Anya buries her cold face into my chest to hide from the chill.

Octavia barely manages two steps forward by the time I crash into her body, as familiar as my own. My free arm wraps the back of her spine, crushing her into me. Her limbs loop around Anya and me in tandem, holding our bodies together. Just our little unit of three against the haze of grey.

How it was always meant to be.

“Can’t breathe!” Anya squeals, wriggling free in my arms.

Octavia giggles, pulling away a bit.

I don’t want to breathe. I tug her back in. Unbelievably, her first words aren’t even for me.

“Hi, sweet girl! I’ve been waiting months to meet you!”

My. Heart. Melts.