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“Nikolai,” I say after a while. “Where’s your mama?”
I regret the question immediately. His eyes are huge and dark in his pinched little face. His small hands go still, hovering over a puzzle piece.
“She went to heaven to be with God,” he whispers.
Fuck.
She’s dead.
“Oh…sweetie…” I don’t know what to say.
“Papa says she’s not coming back,” he goes on. “I asked God to let her visit, but I don’t think he was listening.”
I swallow hard.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” My heart aches for this little boy and the mother he will never know. “Did your papa…tell you why?”
He shakes his head. “Papa does not like to talk about it. It makes him sad.”
“Of course.” A strange swirl of emotion builds inside me. I realize he’s probably grieving too, but how could Anton keep such important details from his own son? Nikolai deserves to know the truth about his own mother.
I reach out and squeeze the boy’s hand. “I’m sure your mama loves you very much, even from heaven.”
“Do you think so?” His eyes are wide and hopeful.
“I know so.” I smile at him, willing confidence into my voice. “All mothers love their children. She would want you to be happy.”
I don’t know where I’m getting this from, since my own mother couldn’t find it in herself to stick around for me.
“Papa says she was always beautiful and kind. Like an angel.” Nikolai’s voice grows wistful. “I wish I could remember her.”
“I wish you could too.” I blink back the sting of tears, cursing Anton again for the life he’s given this child.
Why the hell has he forced his son into this world?
There are dark secrets here, and I’m almost afraid to uncover them. Whatever happened to Anton’s wife, I know it couldn’t have been good.
Chapter 15
Anton
A storm rages outside.
Heavy rain patters against the window panes of my study, and I can’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. The dark clouds seem like an omen, as if they know what’s coming for me – for us.
“Boss,” Luka says as he knocks on the door before stepping into the room. His tall frame takes up space but somehow still manages to blend into the shadows. “We need to talk.”
“Da, I know,” I reply, leaning back in my leather chair, fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrests. “Ivan’s call was…unexpected.”
I’d told him briefly about what happened, and though Luka hadn’t spoken up at the time, I knew this conversation is bound to happen.
“Volkov is getting closer,” Luka states bluntly, his stoic face betraying no emotion. “You know he will stop at nothing to find you.”
“Us,” I correct him, thinking of Nikolai, who is the real reason I’ve gone through such great lengths to stay hidden from the Bratva.
“Da.” Luka nods, understanding. He approaches the desk, setting out a sheet of paper covered in his neat, precise handwriting. It’s a list of names, addresses, details that are not unknown to me. “We could start with these, boss. I can ask around. We might be able to find out where Volkov will strike next.”
“Risky,” I murmur, my gaze fixed on the intricate web of connections he’s plotted out on the page. “But necessary.”
