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I can't believe this is his reaction. I'm not sure I know what the proper reaction should be, but this one doesn’t feel right. "So we're gonna wire up our apartment like some kind of fortress? Put bars on the windows? Never leave the house again?" I know he has to hear the frustration in my tone. Leaving my father's watchful eye was supposed to give me my freedom back, not trade it for a different man's version of control.

"If that’s what it takes to keep you safe, yes. And your taking time off now is a good idea, anyway," he says, and his jaw is set. He thinks I'm going to step back and do whatever he says, but I'm not going to be bossed around. "I’m not taking chances with your life, Alana, or with the baby’s. If someone found us, then we need to⁠—"

"You need to what?" I interrupt, ready to pull my hair out. I'm scared too, but this isn't okay. I can feel the walls closing in and the independence I’ve fought so hard to build here slipping away with every word he speaks. "Keep me locked inside like some kind of prisoner? Monitor my every move? I spent my whole life in Moscow being told where I could go and who I could see and what I was allowed to do. I thought we left that behind."

"This isn’t about controlling you," he says, but he’s already moving toward the door to check the locks again, testing the deadbolt with a firm twist of his wrist. "This is about protecting you."

"No, you're not trying to protect me. You’re trying to lock me up." I follow him through the living room into the bedroom and then finally back to the kitchen.

Dimitri stops and turns to look at me, and I see the hurt in his eyes, the confusion. "I’m trying to save your life," he says quietly. "If someone from my family found us, then we’re already in danger. I can’t just sit here and hope for the best."

"And I can’t just sit here and let you turn into my father," I spit and immediately regret it.

He flinches like I’ve slapped him, and I watch his face crumple as he realizes what I’m saying. He's standing on the edge of a precipice where love becomes possession, and I am not an object. "I don’t want to be like him," he says quietly as his shoulders sag, and he pulls me into a hug and rests his chin on my head. "God, Alana, that’s the last thing I want."

"Then don’t become them," I say, crying because I’m terrified. "I need you to believe that I can take care of myself and make decisions about my own safety. I need you to protect me without suffocating me, because if I have to choose between being safe and being free, I’ll choose freedom every time. Even if it kills me."

His arms tighten for a moment, then I feel him kiss the crown of my head. "I’m sorry," he whispers against my hair, hands stroking my back gently. "You’re right. Living in a bubble won’t help. I just don't want to lose you."

I cling to him and breathe him in as the tension between us settles into a conversation instead of a fight. "I’m not helpless," I mumble into his chest. "I can handle this. I just need you to stand with me, not in front of me."

"I’ll try," he promises, pulling back to look at me. "I’ll learn how to be your partner and your shield. But you have to understand that I’m terrified too. Not just for me, but for you and for him." He puts his hand on my belly, spreading his fingers wide. "If something happened to either of you because I wasn’t careful enough, I wouldn’t survive it."

I cover his hand with mine, pressing his palm against the place where our son is turning somersaults. "I know," I say softly. "And I’m scared too. What if it wasn’t just a random person today? What if someone from our old life really did find us? What if they’re watching right now, waiting for us to slip up?"

"Yeah," he sighs, but I get the idea there's still something he's not telling me.

He pulls away and drags two bowls out of the cupboard with a brooding expression to set the table. I spoon us both hefty portions and get him a beer while I finally take that ice water out. When we sit down, calm dominates the room now. It’s amazing how much more comfortable I feel with Dimitri here with me. And it makes me feel like I could conquer anything.

"What if we went back?" I ask quietly. It's not something I've put a lot of thought into, but it is something I've considered. "We thought exposing Ivan would end the war, but it just made things worse. Maybe we can’t really be free until we see this through and help Alexei stabilize things." Going back on our own terms is what we really need to do, and maybe our families will see there's a better way.

Dimitri sets down his spoon and looks at me with stern eyes, narrowed on my face in a question. "You’d be willing to do that?" he asks. "To go back to Moscow, to face whatever’s waiting there?"

"If we do it together," I say, reaching across the table to take his hand. "If we decide when and how, and if we don’t let them dictate the terms. I’m done running, Dimitri. I want to face this, but I want to face it as an equal, not as someone you’re trying to hide away."

I'm stronger than he thinks, and we can do hard things if we put our minds to it. I'm not sure that right in the middle of a pregnancy is the right time to do this. We'll have to make a plan for it to work right and not wind up with us dead in a ditch somewhere, but it might be the right thing. If for no other reason than to put his mind at ease over the things we left undone.

29

DIMITRI

"You're actually finishing that," Maksim says, watching me wipe the last of the grease from my plate with a crust of bread. When he suggested meeting, I agreed under the terms that he leave his cell phone at home, drive a borrowed car, and not tell anyone where we were meeting.

"I missed breakfast," I say, popping the bread into my mouth and chewing while he stares at me with raised eyebrows. "And lunch yesterday, and dinner the day before. Alana's been craving food at odd hours, so I'm eating when I can."

"You're blaming your pregnant girlfriend for the fact that you just inhaled a half-pound burger in six minutes?" He scoffs at me, and it's good to see him light and easy knowing what he's living with back home. This diner, however, could be a bit cleaner for such a happy reunion.

"I'm blaming my schedule," I say, nodding at his plate where his own rare burger sits barely touched, bleeding onto the plate in a pool of juice and grease. "What? You drove two hours to watch me eat?"

Maksim glances down at his food and then back at me, a slow smile cracking his face. "You always did have the appetite of a wolf," he says, sliding his plate across the table toward me. "Go ahead. I'm not hungry, anyway."

I can see he's too anxious to eat, but I'm starving and I've been running on adrenaline and coffee for three days, so I pick up Maksim's burger and take a bite that coats my tongue with salt and fat. The diner clatters around us, truckers at the counter nursing coffees they've been refilling for hours, the clang of dishes from the kitchen mixing with the low murmur of conversation.

It's private enough, though I can't be too careful. I don’t think I was followed, but after Alana seeing that car outside our place and knowing what Maksim already told me about someone knowing where we are, I don't like taking chances.

"You look terrible," I say around a mouthful of beef, studying the dark circles under his eyes that look like they've been carved in with a knife. This conflict is taking its toll on him.

"You look soft," he counters, but there's no sting with it. He's my best friend. Of course he's going to give me a hard time. "Fatherhood's making you domestic."