Page 24 of Crystal Veil

Another body lands near me with a wet thud. Sergey.

Blood pours from a gash above his eye, streaming down his face like tears. He tries to rise, his movements weak and uncoordinated, but fails and collapses back onto the debris-covered floor. His breathing comes in shallow gasps that suggest internal injuries I can't see.

“We're buried,” he whispers hoarsely, stating the obvious with the detached calm of a man in shock.

I twist my body, adrenaline flooding my system and temporarily overwhelming the pain. My leg is trapped beneath a chunk of concrete the size of a small car, but the bone isn't broken. I can feel my toes and flex my ankle. The weight is crushing but not fatal. Not yet.

“Bennato?” I demand through gritted teeth.

Sergey coughs, spitting blood onto the gray dust that coats everything around us. “Gone. The bastard slipped out before the blast.”

Rage builds in my chest, molten and unstoppable like lava rising through bedrock. All of this, all the death and destruction and sacrifice, and my primary target escapes to fight another day.

I slam my fist into the broken concrete beside my head, feeling my knuckles split and bleed. The physical pain helps focus my mind and channels the rage into something more useful than blind fury.

The bastard escaped. But he's wounded now, his forces decimated, his allies dead. This war isn't over, but tonight's battle has shifted the balance of power in my favor.

Footsteps echo through the settling dust and debris. Distant at first, then louder as they navigate the wreckage. Heavy boots on broken concrete.

Artur's voice bellows through the destruction, powerful enough to shake loose concrete from the damaged ceiling. “Pakhan! Renat! Hold on! We're coming!”

I let my head fall back against the rubble, finally allowing myself to breathe. The immediate danger is past. My soldiers are alive, and they're coming to dig me out of this tomb. Whatever damage I've sustained can be repaired. Whatever losses we've suffered can be replaced.

Bianca is dead. Her schemes and manipulations ended forever. Bennato is wounded, and on the run, his organization crippled. Sergey lies bleeding beside me, his usefulness at an end.

As the dust settles and strong hands begin digging through the wreckage above us, I close my eyes and think of Elena. Her face, her voice, her unwavering belief that there's something worth saving in the monster I've become.

I made her a promise. Swore I’d come back to her, and I will. The war won’t end until Bennato is dead and buried. But tonight, I survived.

11

ELENA

Time loses all meaning when you're waiting for the man you love to come back from war.

I pace the length of the study for the third time, then fourth, arms wrapped tightly across my chest like I can hold myself together if I just squeeze hard enough. The estate is too quiet. Every clock tick echoes like a gunshot in my ears. The marble floors beneath my bare feet are cold, sending shivers up my spine that have nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the ice-cold fear spreading through my veins.

The last thing Renat whispered before leaving was a promise, his lips brushing against my ear as he held me close in the doorway. “I'll come back to you. No matter what.” But promises mean nothing to bullets and betrayal.

I sit for five seconds before shooting back up again, restless energy scraping under my skin like static electricity. My hands shake as I check my phone for the hundredth time. Nothing. No missed calls, no text messages, no word from Roman or any of Renat's other men. The silence taunts me with terriblepossibilities that I refuse to acknowledge but can't stop thinking about.

I press my palm against my small baby bump beneath Renat's oversized dress shirt. I can already feel the fierce protectiveness that comes with motherhood coursing through my blood. This baby needs their father.Ineed their father.

The grandfather clock in the corner chimes eleven, its deep brass tone reverberating through the room. Renat left at nine. Two hours ago. I should have trusted my instincts. Should have begged him not to go when every fiber of my being screamed that something felt wrong about the whole setup. But I didn't want to be the woman who held her man back from doing what needed to be done. So, I kissed him goodbye and watched him walk out that door, my heart already heavy with dread. Now I'm drowning in regret.

I move to the windows that overlook the front drive, my reflection ghostlike in the dark glass. The security lights illuminate the circular driveway and the fountain at its center, but beyond that lie only darkness. No headlights cutting through the night. No convoy of black SUVs bringing my love home to me.

The silence feels oppressive. I need noise, a distraction to occupy my mind before it spirals completely out of control. I return to the study and turn on the stereo system, classical music filling the room at a volume that would normally soothe my nerves. Tonight, even Chopin's gentle nocturnes sound like funeral dirges.

I sink onto the leather couch, pulling my knees up to my chest. The house feels enormous around me, every shadow potentially hiding threats, every creak making me jump. I've lived here formonths now, but without Renat's presence filling the space, it feels foreign and cold.

The door opens with a soft click, and my heart leaps into my throat. But it's only Amelia escorted by one of the maids. She carries a white bakery bag and wears that forced smile she puts on when she's trying to keep me from falling apart.

“You haven't eaten,” she announces, settling beside me on the couch. “I brought guava and cheese pastries. You love these.”

The sweet, flaky pastries are my weakness, a comfort food from childhood that Amelia discovered could coax me to eat even when anxiety had killed my appetite. Tonight, though, the thought of food makes my stomach churn.

“I can't eat.”