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Anger simmers in my gut, hot and consuming. "You've completely lost it," I snap, my words as sharp as knives despite my precarious situation. "You think by getting rid of me, you’re saving Maxim. Protecting him. From what? All you're doing is causing more hurt, unraveling his life thread by thread. You're not his savior—you're his downfall."
My words strike a nerve, and I see the flash of fury cross Nadya's face before she delivers a stinging slap across my cheek. “You weren't there in his darkest hours, after Irina had left him broken. It wasmewho helped him stand again. You see only the man he is now, not the one I saved. I refuse to let a harlot likeyou destroy him again. I couldn’t protect Arkady, but I’ll protect Maxim with everything I have.”
“This isn’t about you protecting him. It’s about your sick obsession with him. You’ve lost your mind if you think Maxim won’t discover the truth. He’s already on the trail of my aunt’s killer, and he’ll soon discover what you’ve done.”
Doubt flickers in Nadya's eyes, but she steels herself. "Finding Masha’s killer won’t be a priority once you’re gone.” Her voice hardens to ice. “Now, shut up and don’t make any sudden moves.”
With the pistol aimed at my chest, Nadya produces a pair of scissors and cuts the twine binding my ankles and wrists. With the gun still trained on me, she steps back, closely watching as I try to regain movement in my limbs. The shard digs into my palm, but I bite my lip and pray that it doesn’t draw blood.
“Up,” she commands.
I rise slowly, my legs unsteady beneath me. The room spins, a mix of fear and exhaustion clouding my senses.
Nadya gestures with the gun for me to move towards the front door, away from the familiarity of my aunt’s cabin. The cold night air hits me as I step outside into the dark, silent woods. Shivering in a T-shirt and sleep shorts, the pine needles and fallen leaves jab at my bare feet.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, desperate to understand her plan.
She doesn’t bother to answer.
My mind races with every possible scenario playing out, and none of them seem good. I look back at her, but she’s all hard lines and focus. I have no doubt she’ll shoot if I dart into the woods.
At the back of the property, Nadya leads me down an embankment towards the river. It runs fast and deep, not to mention it’s ice-cold this time of year.
Her plan is suddenly crystal clear—she’s going to force me in the water. There’s no better way to make my death look like a suicide.
A sob rips from my chest. Everything about this is twisted. Nadya has convinced Maxim that I've left him, and sent him on a wild chase across the city to find me. Meanwhile, in a day or two, they'll discover my lifeless body in the river.
She'll get away with murder. Not of me, but of this child.
I can’t leave this earth with Maxim thinking I betrayed him. I won’t let that happen.
I stop and turn towards her, desperation coloring my tone. “Don’t do this. I beg of you, please, don’t do this. There’s another way.”
“Go for a swim, Kira. It’s so easy. Get in the water, and you’ll float downstream.” Her voice sounds like it’s a million miles away.
I drop to my knees, tears pouring down my face. I bow my head as if in solemn prayer and bring my hands together, the shard hidden between my palms. "Fine. I will do as you say, but before I go, pray with me. Pray for my soul." I’m not a religious person, but she is. "Please, Nadya," I whisper, “join me.”
She hesitates before slowly stepping closer, her voice a low murmur as she recites a prayer under her breath. Time slows to a crawl and my heart beats wildly, preparing for what's next.
Her eyes are closed, her expression one of reluctant devotion. I silently edge forward, bridging the gap between us. I tighten my grip on the glass.
It's now or never.
With a surge of adrenaline, I thrust my arm up, driving the shard deep into Nadya's neck. Her eyes fly open, one hand grabbing the wound while the other raises her gun. I dodge to the side, losing my balance on the uneven terrain. As a gunshot pierces the night, I fall backwards.
I plunge into the swift currents, landing with a splash. The cold is unlike anything I’ve felt before, a numbing shock to my system. Voices shout in the distance—male, urgent—but in my dazed state, nothing makes sense.
Struggling is no use. My limbs are heavy and uncooperative. Each breath is a battle, and the darkness at the edges of my vision threatens to consume me.
More shouting in the distance, but the world seems so far away.
My last thought is of Maxim and the baby we would have had together. I picture his brutally beautiful face as he holds a sleeping baby to his chest, tenderly singing her a lullaby.
It’s a beautiful image to leave this earth with.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
MAXIM
