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Edvard is at the top of my hitlist, but I don’t currently have the energy to deal with him. My need for revenge was misplaced. If Dimitri didn’t kill my father, then who did? Edvard might be the only person who has the answer. It very well could have been him, but I need to hear him confess with my own ears before I put a bullet between his eyes.
Just thinking about plotting against him drains me of all energy. Revenge is exhausting. I don’t know if I have the strength to do it anymore.
I develop a little routine for myself out of necessity. Nobody talks to me anymore. It’s literally just me and my thoughts, and even those aren’t particularly pleasant to listen to. I make my bed, stare out the window for a few hours, brush my hair. I check on my wound every few hours or so, changing the gauze and bandages with what the guards provide me.
I should be right as rain in the next couple of days. From what little experience I have with patching up bullet holes, my skin should close at around the ten-day mark. Since it was a relatively clean shot and I’m on a strict antibiotic regime, infection seems unlikely, though I’ve certainly been keeping an eye out for it. Within a few short days, I should be able to get out of here, but…
But I don’t want to.
Not with the way things are now. There’s still so much left unsaid. I need to apologize to Dimitri. I want to hold Simon. I want to check on Dahlia and make sure she’s okay. I want to make things right again. But how can I when I’ve hurt them so badly?
Somewhere down the hall, I hear Simon crying. He cries and cries and cries, but nothing seems to calm him. I hate being trapped in my room, unable to go to him. Is someone watching him now? Is Dahlia or Dimitri with him? What’s bothering the poor boy? A few minutes pass, and then a whole half an hour. He’sstillcrying. Maybe something’s wrong.
My body reacts before my brain has a chance to think otherwise. I open my bedroom door—and I’m immediately stopped.
Boris stands in front of it, looking stern. “Where do you think you’re going, traitor?”
“Simon’s—”
“You’re not allowed to leave your room. I’m under strict orders.”
I furrow my brows, the sounds of Simon’s cries nothing short of distressing. “What’s wrong with him? I can help.”
“I’ll use force if I have to,” Boris growls, his hand reaching for the gun nestled in his hip holster. His threat is loud and clear.
They’re not for you, they’re for me and my son.
I hold my breath. I think I’m going to start crying again. Whatever trust I thought I managed to build lies in bits and pieces beneath my feet. This is a mess I can’t talk my way out of. Even though my intentions are good, even though I just want to help Simon, who in their right mind would be willing to give me a chance?
“You know, my friends are dead because of you,” Boris hisses. “Those men died protecting you. Turns out, you’re the reason they were shot to begin with.”
I cast my eyes down to the floor. “Boris, I’m… so sorry.”
“Save your breath, bitch. I don’t want to hear it.”
Simon screeches.
“Please,” I rasp. “I’m his nanny. I know how to take care of him.”
“You’re not going anywhere. We’ve got it under control.”
“At least tell me what’s happening.”
Instead of answering, Boris gives my shoulder a hard shove. I stumble back and nearly trip, catching my balance at the last possible moment with a hand braced on the back of my desk chair. Boris glares daggers at me as he slams the door. I know it’s no use. I could barge my way out of here, but I’m pretty sure it’d be detrimental to my recovery.
With no other choice, I sit down on the edge of my bed and let out a heavy sigh.
What the hell am I going to do now?
Chapter 27
Dimitri
Edvard Levitsky is no longer a ghost. Thanks to the security cameras in my house, we know exactly what he looks like. Every single Bratva in Moscow and all across Russia, from those of major importance to even the smallest of players, now knows the man’s face. We’ll be able to smoke him out in no time.
It’s the strangest feeling, but I can’t help but think this was all part of his plan.
Surely, he must have known he had us running in circles before. So why did he show up at my house in the flesh? Call me paranoid, but it’s almost like hewantedto get caught. There’s something bigger at play here, but for the life of me, I can’t figure it out. Why would he take such a risk? Just to kill Natalya and tie up a loose end?
