Page 90 of The Pakhans’ Curvy Prize

"What does that mean, exactly?" I ask quietly. "Why does it matter if your sister has heard about me?"

Alex pushes off the railing and steps closer. "It means you're drawing Bratva eyes. And that's never a good thing."

The weight of his words settles over me like a heavy blanket. More Bratva eyes. As if three pairs aren't enough. I walk into the kitchen and lean against the counter. Dropping my head into my hands, I take several deep breaths. I'm not going to get out of this anytime soon.

The truth is, it's not just about going stir-crazy. It's the fact that I'm pregnant and don't know how to deal with that truth. After Sharon left, I took the second test, with the same result. I just need to get away for a few hours to think. Alone.

I look up at meet Alex's eyes, then Nicks, and finally Russ's. All three of them are watching me with varying degrees of concern and determination.

"I can't stay locked in this cabin forever," I say quietly. "I'll lose my mind."

Russ shifts his weight, glancing at Nick and Alex. "She's got a point. We can't keep her caged up indefinitely."

"We can if it keeps her alive," Nick counters.

"She's not asking to go clubbing downtown," Russ argues. "She's asking for some fucking breathing room."

Alex is silent for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. Finally, he speaks. "She can leave occasionally. But never alone. One of us is with her at all times, no exceptions."

Nick looks like he wants to argue, but after a tense pause, he nods. "Fine. But nowhere public. Nowhere predictable."

It's not freedom, but it's something. I nod slowly. "Okay."

The uneasy peace settles over us as the men relax slightly. Russ comes into the kitchen and starts cooking dinner while I return to the table and try to focus on work. Nick disappears into the bedroom to make phone calls, and Alex sits at the table reviewing something on his phone.

The cottage feels almost normal for a while. Almost.

We're halfway through dinner when the power suddenly cuts out and the entire cottage plunges into complete darkness. I freeze, my fork halfway to my mouth. It's not unusual for the power to go out. A strong wind or someone running into a power pole can do it. But the tension is thick and for a split second, no one moves. Then everything happens at once.

Nick's chair scrapes back violently, followed by a metallic click of a weapon being drawn. Russ kills the flashlight on his phone immediately, and I catch a flash of movement outside the window.

"Stay down," Alex says quietly beside me, his hand gripping my arm.

I drop into a crouch near the kitchen counter, my heart pounding so hard I can barely hear anything else. Alex stays beside me, his body tense and ready. Russ slips toward the front door, moving silently through the darkness. Nick circles toward the side of the cottage, his gun drawn and ready.

Is that footsteps crunching on gravel outside? A shudder ripples down my spine and I catch my breath. Something slams hard against the bedroom window, and I jump. Before I can release the scream threatening to rip from my lungs, Alex's hand clamps over my mouth, keeping me silent. His other arm wraps around me, holding me still.

"Russ!" Nick's voice cuts through the darkness, sharp and commanding.

Russ shouts something I can't make out, and then there's the sound of someone crashing through the woods. Heavy footsteps running and branches snapping. Nick takes off after them immediately, his footsteps pounding across the porch and into the trees.

Alex and I stay crouched in the kitchen, listening. My breathing is too loud and fast. Am I going to pass out? My pulse is racing and I can hear it pounding throughout my body. Several long minutes pass, and with each beat of my heart, my fear intensifies. Who's out there? Are Russ and Nick okay? Are they hurt?

Then the lights flicker back on. I blink against the sudden brightness, my eyes adjusting. Alex releases me slowly, standing and moving toward the window to look outside. Nick and Russ return a few minutes later, both of them furious and empty-handed.

"Bastard got away," Nick says, tucking his gun into the back of his pants. "They cut the power at the breaker box outside.”

Russ walks to the kitchen table and drops a muddy baseball cap onto the table. Embroidered across the front is the mayor's campaign logo.

37

RUSS

The cap sits on Marla's kitchen table like a fucking declaration of war. Mud still clings to the fabric, fresh enough that it smears slightly when I shove it toward the center with more force than necessary. My hands are shaking. Not from fear. From pure, unfiltered rage.

"He was right fucking there," I say, my voice coming out rougher than I intend. "Close enough to look through the goddamn window. Close enough to see her."

Nick stands near the door, his black hair still damp from the chase through the woods. His green eyes are cold and calculating as he stares at the cap. He's wearing dark jeans and a black sweater that's torn at the shoulder from catching on branches. There's a scratch along his jaw that's bleeding slightly.