Page 118 of Secret Heir

Because Daniel isn’t sleeping. He’s having nightmares.

I grit my teeth. “Fine. Two hours. But if anything happens⁠—”

“I’ll wake you immediately.” She takes my arm, supporting more of my weight than I’d like to admit as she helps me toward the door. “Come on.”

The hallway outside Nikolai’s study is wide and high-ceilinged, with crown molding and very valuable artwork. My brother’s fortress compound is a converted Gilded Age estate on forty acres in the Catskills. It’s far enough from the city to be defensible, but close enough to still conduct business. The main house is over twenty thousand square feet, with marble floors and bulletproof windows disguised as regular glass.

It’s beautiful. And it feels like a prison. Is this what Aria felt like at the beginning?

We pass guards at regular intervals. Men Nikolai has personally vetted, some of whom have been with the family for decades. They nod respectfully as we pass but don’t speak. Everyone knows I’m on edge.

Everyone knows my son is falling apart.

The bedroom Nikolai gave us is on the third floor. It’s a massive suite with a four-poster bed, a sitting area with a fireplace, and windows that overlook the compound’s gardens. Normally it would be beautiful. Right now it just feels stifling.

Aria helps me sit on the edge of the bed then kneels to take off my shoes. The position reminds me of when we first got together, when she used to help me undress after long days. When things were simple.

“I can do that,” I tell her.

“I know you can. Let me help anyway.” She slips off one shoe, then the other, setting them neatly aside. Then she carefully helps me out of my jacket, mindful of the bandages still wrapped around my torso.

My shirt is next. She unbuttons it slowly, her fingers gentle. When she peels it away from my skin, she flinches at the sight of the bruising. My entire left side is purple and yellow and black, a roadmap of the blast that should have killed me.

“It looks worse than it is,” I lie.

“It looks like you got hit by a car.” She helps me lie back against the pillows, adjusting them behind my back so the pressure on my ribs is minimized. “Which is basically what happened.”

“I’m fine,” I repeat, uncomfortable with her penetrating gaze on my injuries.

“You’re not fine. None of us are fine.” Her voice breaks slightly, and I reach for her hand.

“Come here, moya,” I say gently.

She climbs onto the bed beside me, careful not to jostle me, and curls into my right side. Her head rests on my shoulder, and I can feel her trembling.

“I’m scared,” she whispers. “Daniel won’t talk to me. He barely eats. He wakes up screaming every night. I don’t know how to help him.”

“I know.” I press a kiss to her hair, my stomach twisting at her words. “I don’t either.”

“He watches you constantly. Did you notice? It’s like he’s afraid if he looks away, you’ll disappear.”

I have noticed. Every time I turn around, Daniel is there, staring at me with those wide gray eyes like he’s trying to memorize my face. It’s as if he’s preparing for me to be taken away.

And he won’t call me anything. Not Maks. Not even Maksim. There’s just silence when he needs to get my attention. A tug on my sleeve. A cleared throat.

He’s afraid to say my name. That naming me will make me real, and real things can be lost.

It’s breaking my heart.

“We’ll get through this,” I tell Aria, even though I’m not sure I believe it as I run my fingers down her shoulder. “We’ll find Alexander and we’ll end this. Daniel will get better.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Her voice is so small, unlike the confident woman I love. “What if this breaks him permanently? What if he never trusts us again, or feels safe again?”

“Then we’ll put him back together. Piece by piece. No matter how long it takes.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, her hand resting on my chest, feeling my heartbeat. “I used to think the worst thing that could happen was you finding us,” she says softly and my heart seizes. “Taking Daniel from me. But this—watching him suffer like this—it’s so much worse.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling emotion burning behind them. “I know,” I rasp.