Page 148 of The Bratva King

The room is what I expected. A single queen bed. Small table. TV, bolted to the wall. Luke looks around. I can only imagine what he’s thinking after spending the past few weeks in Nikolai’s mansion.

“We’re staying here tonight,” I tell him.

“Okay.”

He doesn’t ask why or complain. He climbs onto the bed, legs dangling as he holds the stegosaurus against his chest.

I pull the tablet from my purse. I feel a twinge of guilt about taking it, but I needed it.

I put the headphones on Luke and find the dinosaur documentary series he’s been watching. I turn up the volume one notch higher than usual, pull out the juice box and bag of Goldfish crackers, and get him settled.

But the room is too quiet. I can’t hear the guards in the hall or the murmur of Russian carrying through the walls. There’s no clink of ice in a glass when Nik comes home.

I sit on the edge of the bed and look around at the room I chose.

I thought leaving would make me feel safer. Like I’d taken back control.

It doesn’t.

I keep thinking about how Nikolai stares out his bedroom window, making sure everything is as it should be before he relaxes and climbs into bed. How he made room for us without ever knowing how to ask us to stay.

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. This isn't homesickness. This is something worse.

I take my phone into the bathroom and lean against the door. I almost didn’t do it. I almost went back to the cart. Back to the guard who would have taken us safely to the estate.

Back to Nikolai.

I almost chose him.

I swallow back the regret, sit on the toilet lid, and make the call I’ve been putting off.

“Gabby. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m in a motel.”

A pause. “You left.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been worried sick.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you and Luke okay?”

“We’re fine.” I press my free hand against my thigh to stop it from shaking. “Greg, I need to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

I tell him about Nikolai, including the relationship, and my fear that we’ve been found.

“Matteo’s gone, but the family isn’t,” Greg says. “Men are still locked up because of the evidence you provided. Some of them would like to settle that account.”

My stomach flip-flops.

“What do I do?”

“Stay put tonight. Are you driving?”