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And then I start crying. It happens so suddenly and so unexpectedly that it takes both me and Sara completely by surprise. I blubber as I stare at the beating heart on the screen, and Sara hands me a tissue.
“I-I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be sorry. Just let me know what I can do.”
“C-c-can I have j-just a few m-minutes alone?”
She gives me a soft smile, puts the probe away, and disappears without a word.
“You should have been here,” I say, whispering out loud to the empty room in the hopes that Adrian’s ghost will hear me. “You should have fucking been here. Like you promised me.”
All I get in return is silence.
Typical. Fucking typical.
Even if there was such a thing as ghosts, Adrian’s wouldn’t be sticking around with me. He didn’t have the patience for my heartaches or my pain while he was alive.
He sure as hell wouldn’t have it now that he’s gone.
19
KOLYA
It’s been two full days since I last saw her.
I get three reports daily, and they never vary. She eats her meals without complaint now. She takes a walk around the grounds in the mornings after breakfast, and another in the evenings before dinner. Sometimes, she goes to the library to read a book. Other nights, she watches a movie in the home theater.
She goes for her check-ups regularly. I hunt down Sara each time to make sure everything is okay.
“Of course everything’s okay,” Sara assures me repeatedly. “She just likes talking. She’s lonely, and I think she’s looking for a friend.”
I don’t need to know more.
I don’t need to know what she’s going through or how she’s feeling. My concern is her health and the health of her baby. Whether she’s happy, whether she’s sad, whether she’s lonely, whether she’s afraid—that shit does not concern me.
“Grisha!” I call out, flexing my fists until the knuckles crack. “You’re up.”
Grisha steps forward from the circle of bare-chested men ranged around me in the gardens. He’s relatively new, though no longer truly a recruit. He wears the brand of the Uvarovs burned into his shoulder, proof that he has passed all the tests that matter. Even if he didn’t have that, the scars riddling his body would show that he’s fought his fair share of battles.
It won’t save him today, though. He bends his neck from side to side, drops into his crouch, and squares up against me.
Over his shoulder, I notice Milana join the throng of Uvarov soldiers waiting their turn to fight. She stands out from the collection of sweaty, scarred torsos in her pale pink heels and her lily-white wraparound dress. She looks delicate, but every man who glances in her direction drops their eyes to the ground just as fast. They’ve seen what she can do, and they know better than to gawk.
I raise my hands and gesture Grisha forward. “Come.”
He has a reputation as a talented fighter. But it’s all over far too quickly. He charges, throwing a rapid flurry of punches. I sidestep them all, the rippling of his grunts passing by me, then turn and unleash one succinct blow into his ribs.
Something cracks beneath my fist and he drops to a knee immediately. I could leave him there, but I’m in a mood for blood, and a don showing mercy in front of his men is not worthy of the crown he wears.
So I twist around, hook a forearm under his chin, and drag him down on top of me. He splutters and gasps, trying to wrench me off of him, but it’s no use. I take him right to the brink of unconsciousness before I let him loose.
Then I push him off of me and brush the dirt from my clothes.
Standing, I look around at my gathered men. More than half of them are beaten and bruised already, courtesy of yours truly. We’ve been out here for hours, facing off one by one. Not a single one of them has come close to landing so much as a scratch on me.
They all bow their heads respectfully as I sweep my gaze around the circle. “We’re done for now.”
But then all eyes flit over my shoulder. Motion from behind.
