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“You wanted today to be nice. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“You’re a soldier, Jasper. You’re paid to follow orders, not think for yourself.”
His jaw flexes, but he nods. “Can I get back to my post now?”
I jab my finger into his chest. “We’ll discuss this later. And since we’re on the subject, never approach my wife again without my approval. Is that clear?”
His throat bobs, and I can only pray he’s swallowing his pride. “Crystal.”
I twist around just as Charles is being escorted towards the doors by Gedeon and Dominik. Weaving through the crowd, I head there myself, meeting them just outside the doors.
“What is the meaning of—” His indignation is cut short the moment he sets eyes on me. He’s still scared of me; that much is obvious by the sweat that breaks out across his forehead and the way his voice quakes. “Listen, Arsen?—”
I grab him by the lapels of his ugly suede jacket and force his eyes to mine. “Did I not make myself clear the last time we spoke?”
His eyes immediately fill with tears. Crocodile tears, I’m sure, but tears nonetheless. “This was my wife, Arsen. My best friend for years. I had to pay my respects.”
“You’ve paid them,” I growl. “Now, stay away from my family. I won’t tell you again.”
He turns without a word and leaps down the stairs two at a time.
“You let him go?” Dom asks.
“Laila has already lost one parent this week. I’ll be damned if I’m the reason she loses a second.”
“I’d argue that Laila wouldn’t care.” Gedeon scowls at Charles' receding figure.
“Laila might not, but Marie would,” I say, mostly to myself. “He was the only man she ever loved and the father of her child—whether he deserves those titles or not.”
Maybe Laila was onto something. Maybe I have more in common with her father than I thought.
Dominik lays a hand on my shoulder. “We haven’t talked about it yet, but you lost Marie, too.”
“Don’t waste your sympathy on me.” I turn my back on him. “I sure as fuck don’t deserve it.”
Standing next to Marie’s gravesite reminds me of my own mother’s funeral. I see myself in Laila—in the tight press of her lips and the flutter of her lashes, barely holding back tears.
When they buried my mother, I stood at the back of the crowd until the first shovel of dirt was dropped into the hole and my father dropped to his knees.
“No!”he screamed in a voice I’d never heard from him before.“Please, Nina. Don’t leave me!”
My grandfather watched from a few feet away, his lips twisted in disgust.“Get him to his feet,”he barked at his generals.“A man who is brought to his knees for a woman is no man at all.”
I shudder as the memory dissipates. The crowd starts to dissipate along with it, people patting Laila on the shoulder and offering their condolences before they depart. She bears it all with a paper-thin smile, clutching our daughter to her chest like her life depends on it.
When there’s no one left but our inner circle, Laila makes her way to me. Her voice is thick with tears. “Take her, Arsen. Please.”
She doesn’t wait before she puts our daughter into my arms. Nina lets out an unhappy cry and reaches out for her mother. Laila cradles her cheek for a second, but she doesn’t take her back. “I need some space. I’ll find you when I’m ready.”
“I can’t just let you walk off without protection.”
Her jaw clenches, but she nods. “Dominik or Gedeon can follow me. But from a distance.”
Ah, yes—“space”: not from the world, but from me in particular.
The three of them disappear into the trees as Nina wails. My daughter looks like she needs some space of her own.
I hold Nina out to Polina. “Take her.”
