Chapter 27 Elena
ELENA
"It was Friday," I say, keeping my voice steady. "Our date night. Do you remember?"
The muscles in Adrian's jaw flex, and his neck stiffens before he looks at me.
"Of course I remember."
The plane hums around us, but my heartbeat drowns it all out now.
"I was on my way to get my hair done," I continue, the words tumbling faster now, like if I stop, I'll lose my nerve and shut down. "In that wavy style I know you liked. I was at a light when someone rear-ended me."
Adrian doesn't move. He just keeps his dark, unreadable eyes locked onto mine.
"The man got out and came up to my window, apologizing. He seemed nice. He looked nice. Like a normal person."
I twirl my fingers in my lap as if it will help me.
"The light changed, and people started honking, and I got nervous, so I told him to pull down the side street and we could talk. He did, but then I noticed one of the cars that was honking also turned with us."
Adrian's nostrils flare, his good hand flexing flat and then into a fist against his thigh.
"I got out, and I was just about to call you when the man hit the phone out of my hand."
The memory sharpens, and for a split second, I feel exactly how I did when it happened.
"At first, I couldn't believe it. Like my brain told me that he tripped or it was an accident. He couldn't have done it on purpose."
I can still see it. The phone skittering across the stones, the cracked screen glowing with my background picture of us.
"I went to say something, and he rushed me. It happened so fast. Suddenly there were three, maybe four men, I don't know. I just remember struggling, then a sharp prick in my arm, and then I woke up in some kind of crate."
My voice cracks on the last word.
Adrian's breathing changes. It's shorter, more focused, like he's trying to hold his anger.
"It took me a few minutes to realize I was on a plane. That humming sound you hear now. You just know it, you know. Like what we're hearing now."
I look down at my hands. At the dried blood caked under my nails, smeared across my palms in dark, rust-colored streaks.
I take a breath. Here we go.
"I was going to get my hair done…" I stop again for another moment. "I wanted to look perfect for dinner, because…because I was going to tell you I was pregnant."
As soon as that last word leaves my lips, it's as if the air in the cabin changes.
Adrian goes completely still. Not the kind of still where he's thinking or processing. The kind of still where everything inside him has stopped.
I force myself to keep going.
"I had taken a test two days before. I wanted to tell you right when that plus sign popped up, but I wanted it to be special.
We saw each other that night, but it was for that event for your father, and it felt rushed.
So I waited. I thought our date night would be perfect.
Since then, it would just be the two of us. "
Tears blur my vision, but I don't wipe them away.
"I had it all planned out," I say and brush the hair out of my face. "Kind of. I was going to order your favorite wine and then not drink any, and you'd figure it out. Or maybe I'd just tell you outright right when we got there. I kept changing my mind." I shrug and smile through tear-filled eyes.
Adrian still hasn't moved. His eyes are fixed on my face, wide and dark and devastated.
Finally, he reaches over with his good arm and grabs my hand.
"Why didn't you tell me before?" he asks. "When I found you. When we talked. Why…"
"Because it's hard for me to admit," I say, interrupting him as the words rip out of me. "Even to myself."
My chest rises and falls, and I'm doing my best to hold back the tears welling in my eyes.
"When they started giving me the drug, I had heavy cramps and then lots of bleeding. And I knew." My voice drops. "I knew our baby was gone."
Adrian's face crumples. Just for a second. Then the mask slams back into place, but I saw it. I saw the devastation, the grief, the rage.
"So when I numbed myself," I say, my voice shaking so hard I can barely get the words out, "when I took it, it wasn't just because I felt like I'd let you down. It was for our baby, too." I stop and gasp for air. "Like I wasn't strong enough for anyone."
The tears stream freely now, hot and relentless.
"That's the truth of what I told you. Why I feel like I should have fought harder. I should have."
"Stop."
Adrian's voice cuts through my spiral, and I look up at him.
He doesn't yell. He almost doesn't react. The silence stretches heavy between us, and in some ways I want him to say something, to rage, to scream, but I also know I just dropped the biggest bomb on him at probably the worst time.
But emotions and feelings don't have a clock.
Adrian reaches up and takes my chin. His eyes bore into mine, dark and fierce and utterly uncompromising.
"First," he says, his voice deadly calm, "none of this was your fault."
His grip tightens just slightly.
"Second, I am so sorry you had to go through any of that alone. You are my world. That was our baby, and we will never forget them. I promise you that," he says and takes a breath.
"And third," Adrian continues, his upper lip twitching, "if I didn't already want to, I am going to fucking kill every last Volkov on earth. I will wipe out the bloodline so not even their memories will live on."
I nod, wiping away tears with the back of my hand, and I know from the twitch of Adrian's lip, from the cold fury burning in his eyes, that all this is no longer just about my kidnapping.
It's about vengeance for his child. For our child. And I couldn't be happier at the thought of the Volkovs' demise.
Adrian pulls me to him with his good arm, and I lean against his chest, careful to avoid his wounded shoulder. He holds me tight, his chin resting on top of my head, and we sit like that in silence.
I replay what I'd just told him, and even though it was terrible news, I feel relieved not to be shouldering the burden alone anymore. Not keeping it buried deep in my mind, afraid to acknowledge it or even think about it.
And even though plane noises reminded me of one of the scariest moments of my life, right now, with him, it doesn't feel as if it'll always be like that. One day, I may actually like to fly again.
I close my eyes and breathe in Adrian's scent, and time blurs. I don't know how much time has passed, if it's been minutes or hours, when Victor clears his throat.
I lift my head, and we both look at him.
"We'll be landing soon," Victor says. "Lucian will be there."
I turn to look out the window and see the jet beginning its descent. The Carpathian Mountains rise in the distance.
Romania.
My home.
"It's going to feel good to be back," I say, my voice hoarse.
Adrian smiles and nods. "You have no idea how good it is to have you home."
I hold his hand while I stare out the window, Bra?ov coming into view as we get lower and lower.
And then my stomach flips, not from the motion but from everything that's waiting for me down there.
My sister, Stefania. My parents.
They all think I'm dead.
The plane lands and comes to a stop.
Victor stands, straightening his torn, blood-splattered suit like he's about to walk into a boardroom instead of off a plane where his brother was nearly killed.
The cabin door opens, and a few men in black jackets rush in immediately, their eyes scanning us and then Adrian.
One woman, older, with her hair pulled back in a tight bun, introduces herself as a nurse.
"Let me see," she says, already moving toward Adrian.
She peels back the bandages on his shoulder, her expression neutral but focused. She clicks her tongue softly.
"You'll need stitches. Maybe more. We'll assess once we get you home, but you seem stable, so that's good."
Two of the men help Adrian to his feet, supporting him on either side. He grunts as they start walking.
I follow right behind, my legs unsteady as I descend the stairs.
The air is cold, and I take a deep breath. It somehow feels like the cleanest air I've ever had. Maybe because it's the air I never thought I'd take in again.
I take the few steps down onto the ground, and then I see him.
Lucian Ionescu stands waiting by a fleet of cars, his dark coat blowing slightly in the breeze. His posture is rigid, shoulders squared, hands clasped behind his back.
He looks exactly as I remember, imposing, unreadable, and slightly terrifying.
The usually stoic future Don's eyes widen as he sees us walking toward him. Mostly, though, it's me he can't stop staring at.
His face, always so carefully controlled, goes pale. A shade of white I've never seen on him before.
And then it really hits home. The world thinks I'm a walking ghost.
He then turns to look at Adrian, taking in the blood-soaked bandages, the way his men are holding him upright, and his face shifts back into that Don mode I know all too well.
He then looks down at me as we pass.
"Elena," he says. "I was told you were alive, but…" he stops for a moment. "Here you are. I'm glad to see you."
I smile and nod. "Thanks, Luc," I say and look around. "It's good to be back where I belong."
Lucian's gaze softens, just a fraction. "Welcome home, Elena," he says, and then gives me a hug.
He then shifts his focus back to Adrian and tells his men, "Get him inside. Now."
The men start moving, guiding Adrian toward a waiting black SUV.
I move and follow the men to the SUV where Adrian is already being loaded into the back seat. I climb in beside him, and the door slams shut behind me.
The nurse is already working on Adrian's shoulder, cleaning the wound and changing his bandage.
Adrian's eyes find mine, and he reaches for my hand with his good arm.
I take it, lacing my fingers through his, and hold on tight.
The SUV pulls away from the airport, and for the first time in eighteen months, I finally feel home.
And as we drive, a new desire rises in me.
Survival isn't enough.
Not anymore.
I want vengeance, and I know Adrian does too.