It’s our baby. I’m certain of it.
When the faint flutters hit my stomach for the second time, I leap to my feet, shocked as hell something so weak could cause such a massive impact to my heart. Our baby would only be the size of the orange Eight and I just shared, but her feeble movements make it seem as if I can move mountains. It doubles my determination in an instant, and has me convinced I have what it takes to survive the ruthlessness of this lifestyle without any additional scars.
Mistaking the expression on my face as eagerness to steal his phone, Eight chuckles out, “Give me a sec to have my named scraped off his hit list, then I’ll hand over my phone. It’ll do Trey some good to hear your voice.” When my expression switches from determined to worried, he adds, “He’s alright. He’s just struggling with guilt. He thinks he can’t rule Nikolai’s kingdom with honor without borrowing the crown he wants to put on your head.” When shock blazes through me, confused to what he means, Eight’s smile picks up. “He wasn’t joking when he said you’ll have your crown, Duchess. He wants to give you the world.”
“I have the world.” My English is terrible, but Eight looks at me as if I spoke it like a true queen. I blame the heavy undertone of sentiment in my voice for that. My life isn’t close to ideal, but compared to what it was, I almost feel regal.
“Think of it this way,” Eight says, stepping closer. “His entire life is wrapped up in you and his kid, so the knowledge he nearly took that away would be a hard pill to swallow. There are days I can’t tell the difference between a bull and a cow, but even someone as stupid as me has no issues understanding how guilty he’d feel knowing he fired at his now-wife and soon-to-be mother of his children. It makes his protectiveness of you somewhat manic.” Remorse fills his eyes when he murmurs, “Then he’s got all that other shit to wade through.” He doesn’t directly say it, but I know he’s referencing the abuse I endured under Achim and Vladimir’s watch.
I wish Trey wouldn’t feel guilty about that. He may have kissed me all those years ago in the pantry, but I instigated everything that occurred after that.Iundid his belt.Ilined up his cock.Ichose to give my virginity to a stranger just likeIpaid for the consequences for my actions. Nothing that happened after our kiss was Trey’s fault. If anything, his family’s downfall should be on my shoulders. If I hadn’t done any of those things mentioned above, perhaps his father and brother would still be alive, and he wouldn’t feel the need to choose between Nikolai’s monarchy and his debunked one. He’d be the governor of his own realm, and free from his nightmares.
I smile like I can’t feel the darkness calling me when Eight mutters, “It’s probably best we keep our little chat between us, though. I didn’t tell you this because I want you to feel bad. I just want you to know why he sent you away. He didn’t do it to hurt you, Sis. He’s just trying to keep you safe. Aight?” When I dip my chin without pause for thought, he smiles. “Good girl. Now finish your orange so I can tell him you ate.”
I’m not hungry, but I swallow down the remainder of the citrusy clump coating my hands with sticky residue without chewing. Trey and I worked too hard on my recovery the past nine months to letanythingundo our efforts. Although I would have preferred to stay by his side, Eight’s comments have flatten my annoyance to barely a blip.
Nikolai freed Trey from hell, he gave him shelter when he saw something in him no one else could, and reminded him that the sun still rises after the darkest nights. He was Trey’s beacon all those years ago as Trey has been mine the past twelve months. Those facts alone should assure Trey he doesn’t need to pick between Nikolai and me. I’ll happily hand him my crown if it assists him in honoring a man who respects him just as vehemently. I will never judge him on his decisions today. If anything, they will have me respecting him more. He fired at me years ago because he was raised believing blood came before anything. Today, along with many other times the past twelve months, proves he doesn’t believe that anymore.
Blood makes you related, but loyalty makes you family. That’s why Eight calls me his sister. We’re family even with us being born in different countries. Justine said once you’re bratva, you’re bratva for life. She was right.
My focus shifts back to Eight when he holds his cell phone into the air, seeking a signal. “I swear the service is worse now than it was this morning.”
While following his slow track through the lower half of the compound, I rub my juice-stained hands down Trey’s shirt I’m wearing as a dress. A real duchess would use a washroom. It’s lucky for me, Trey likes me grubby.
When Eight takes a right at the stairwell, I peer up at the grandeur I failed to notice twelve months ago. I was so eager to get out of this compound, I practically dragged Ana down the stairwell that’s wide enough to fit an army tanker down it. The wooden balustrade was demolished by the inferno Trey and I lit, but the steps I galloped down remain since they’re made out of concrete. Most of this warehouse-type building is built from the same durable material.
I slant my head when I notice a set of footprints in the ash coating the stairwell. They’re not faded as you’d suspect. They almost look recent.
Curious, I cautiously climb the stairwell. Since I’m barefoot, Eight fails to notice I’m moving in the opposite direction to him until I reach the soot-covered landing. “Be careful up there K. Some of the roof’s beams held during the blaze, but they’re not stable.”
His acknowledgement that he’s been through this part of the compound weakens the nervous knock of my knees. I explore more out of morbid curiosity than fear. I don’t want to say I’ve overcome the damage this place slapped my mental stability with, but I’m most certainly on my way to reaching closure on that part of my life.
After taking in the room I was given my first night here, then the one I was freed from almost twelve months ago, I move to the room Vladimir entered and never exited. Although the walls and floors are badly smoke damaged, most of the roof remains intact. The soot and paint-licked walls add to the eeriness of a room that claimed more than the lives of innocent women. It also sent Satan back to hell.
Soot kicks up around me when I bend down to clear away the ash beneath the pully I was chained to when whipped. A handful of the blood droplets hidden under the mess belong to me, but I don’t believe it’s responsible for the copper smell in the air. A larger pile of ash sits right of where I’m kneeling. Its long and slender stack almost conceals the smallest slither of a red thread stuck between warped floorboards.
As my heart thuds in my ears, I pull at the thread, prying it free from the blackness as I was freed. Horrid memories fill my head when I remove enough of the ash covering the ribbon to spot its bright red and white dot coloring. It’s been a very long time since I saw it but I swear this piece of ribbon is a similar length, pattern, and width to the ribbon my mother placed in my hair before my interview with Mrs. Novak.
Achim wore it like a bracelet for years. Forever taunting me with it when I outwitted his chase by keeping someone with me at all times the first two years after my parents death. It grazed my cheek the first time he forced his dick between my lips, and it was there when he slapped me after India told him what I had done with Trey in the butler’s pantry.
With my mind trapped between the past and the present, it takes me a little longer to notice the faintest shimmer of a light peeking through the crack I dug the ribbon out of. It’s coming through the floorboards. It’s too bright to be a candle and too dim to be the rapidly setting sun.
Motivated by vile curiosity, I dig the steel end of a shackle into the gap in the warped wood before leaning on it with all my might. My breathing grows shallow when a section of the floorboard pops up a few seconds later. Although the wall behind it is burned away, the stairwell beneath the floor is in one piece. That isn’t surprising considering it’s made out of concrete.
When a flicker of light breaks through the blackness at the end of the hidden stairwell, I almost call for Eight. The only reason I don’t is because I refuse to add another victim to the long tally I’ve amassed the past seven years.
Furthermore, Nikolai is missing and I’ve found a hidden bunker. Perhaps this time around, my placement in Trey’s life will do him more good than harm.
After weaponing-up with the shard of metal I opened the trapdoor with, I gingerly make my way down the stairwell. A stable woman would call out. I’m nothing close to stable. In this life, sometimes silence is your only defense.
My heart batters my ribcage when I soundlessly slip off the last step of a long, spiraling staircase. Although the accent of the voice at the end of the corridor usually instigates horrid nightmares, they’re not as bad as they once were since I’ve been surrounded by the same accent every day for the past nine months. I’ll never find a Russian accent as comforting as Trey’s British twang, but I won’t fear it again any time soon, either.
I’m stronger than I was twelve months ago, I remind myself when I almost chicken out partway through my mission. I am braver. I’m a duchess ready to rule her monarchy.
I’m also a fool who walks straight into the blackness without remembering to blink.
“Hello, little girl,” greets a thick Russian accent when I enter an opulent bedroom hidden in a bunker under Vladimir’s compound. “Do you still taste my cum when eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”
Eleven
