Chapter 25
Sabrina
A knot of unease forms in my stomach as I pull on a robe and pad barefoot through the hallway.
His office is empty, with the desk cleared except for the ultrasound photo that sits in its usual place of honor.
The kitchen shows no signs of recent use.
There is no coffee cup in the sink and no plate in the dishwasher.
It appears as though he vanished into thin air.
I find one of the guards stationed near the front entrance, a man whose name I have never learned despite weeks of seeing him around the estate. He straightens when he sees me approach.
“Where’s Nikandr?”
The guard maintains a neutral expression. “He left early this morning, ma’am. Business meeting.”
The vague answer does nothing to ease the growing anxiety clawing at my chest. “What kind of business meeting?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t have those details.”
I study his face, looking for tells that might give me more information. He maintains eye contact, but there’s something carefully neutral about his expression that makes me think he knows more than he admits. “When did he leave?”
“Around five a.m.”
I nod and retreat to the kitchen, though my unease deepens with each passing minute. Five in the morning isn’t unusual for Nikandr because he’s an early riser, but something about this feels different. Wrong, somehow.
I make coffee and settle at the kitchen island with my phone, checking for missed calls or text messages.
There are none. I try calling him directly, but the call goes straight to voicemail after a single ring.
The sound of his recorded voice makes my chest tighten.
“You’ve reached Nikandr Belov. Leave a message. ”
“Hey, it’s me. Just wondering where you are and when you’ll be home. Call me back when you get this.” I hang up and stare at the phone, willing it to ring with his return call. Ten minutes pass, then twenty, then an hour passes without any response.
By noon, the bad feeling has evolved into something closer to panic. I’ve called three more times, with each call going directly to voicemail. I have texted twice with no response. I have even asked for Maksim’s contact information from the guard, only to be told he’s “unavailable” as well.
I pace the length of the sunroom with one hand pressed to my belly where our daughter moves restlessly, as if sensing my agitation. Every scenario my mind conjures is worse than the last. Car accidents, rival syndicates, police raids, and ambushes… Each possibility makes my heart race faster.
“It’s okay, baby girl,” I whisper, though I am not sure I believe it myself. “Daddy’s just busy with work.”
Work . A week ago, Nikandr told me he was stepping away from the organization permanently. This morning, he disappeared without a word. When my phone finally rings at 2:15 p.m., I lunge for it so quickly I nearly knock over my water glass. “Nikandr?”
Maksim’s voice is carefully controlled, which immediately sets off alarm bells in my head. “It’s Maksim.”
“Where is he? Is he okay?”
“He’s alive. He was injured during an operation this morning, but he’s going to be fine.”
The words stun me, stealing my breath and making the room spin around me. Injured. Operation. This morning. “What kind of operation?” I sound far more composed—and less angry—than I feel.
“He went after Vadim, but it was a trap. Vadim wasn’t there, but his people were waiting. Nikandr took a bullet to the side during the extraction.”
I sink onto the couch because my legs suddenly can’t support my weight. “How bad?”
“It was a through and through that missed vital organs. He’s getting stitched up at one of our medical facilities now and should be home in a few hours.”
The relief that washes over me is immediately followed by something much darker. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
Maksim is quiet for a long moment. “He asked me not to call you. He didn’t want you to worry about something you couldn’t control, but I figured you’d be wondering where he was.”
I close my eyes and try to process what this means. “I meant why didn’t he tell me about the plan to go after Vadim but thank you for telling me.”
He hesitates for a moment, and his tone gentles. “He loves you, Sabrina. Everything he did today was about protecting you and the baby.”
“Yes, everything but keeping a promise to me.” I end the call and set aside the phone with hands that shake slightly.
For several minutes, I sit in perfect silence, processing what Maksim told me.
Nikandr is alive. He’s injured but going to be okay.
He went after Vadim without telling me, despite promising a week ago there would be no more secrets between us.
The numbness gives way to something much worse. A burning sense of betrayal starts in my chest and spreads through my entire body like poison.
He lied to me.
After everything we have shared, after all the promises and plans and declarations of love, he looked me in the eye and lied.
Not directly, maybe, but through omission.
He went after Vadim and chose not to tell me after swearing to me he’d let me know before he went to that final confrontation with Vadim, the one that was supposed to set us free and start our new future.
Instead, it’s the demise of every fledgling dream.
I push myself up from the couch and begin pacing again, this time with purpose rather than aimless anxiety. Each step helps clarify the rage building inside me, sharpening it into something I can use.
The betrayal cuts deeper than any physical wound could.
It’s not just that he lied. He obviously never intended to keep his promise in the first place.
All those conversations about stepping away from the organization, about building a peaceful life together, and choosing our family over everything else…
How much of it was real, and how much was just telling me what I wanted to hear?
I stop pacing and wrap my arms around my belly, trying to provide comfort to the daughter who has been kicking restlessly for the past hour. She can probably sense my emotional turmoil, and the thought makes me feel guilty on top of everything else.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mommy’s just figuring out some things.”
By the time I hear the front door open a little after four, I’ve been rehearsing this conversation for over two hours. I know exactly what I am going to say and how I am going to handle his explanations and excuses. I’m ready.
What I am not prepared for is the sight of him limping through the foyer. His face is pale with exhaustion, and his left side is carefully protected by the way he holds his arm. There’s dried blood on his shirt collar, and the careful way he moves tells me he’s in more pain than he wants to admit.
For a split second, every argument I’ve prepared dissolves into relief that he’s alive and home. Then I remember why he is injured in the first place, and the anger comes flooding back twice as strong. I cross my arms and study his face. “ How was your… business meeting?” I ask with heavy irony.
He stops in the doorway, and his expression shifts as he realizes I know exactly what happened. “Sabrina?—”
I hold up a hand to stop whatever explanation he plans to offer. “Don’t lie to me again. I already know about Vadim, the trap, and you getting shot. Maksim called me.”
His jaw tightens with what might be frustration or anger. “I told him not to?—”
I snap the words, “I’m glad he did. Otherwise, I would have spent the entire day wondering if you were dead in a ditch somewhere.” I glare at him. “He was a better partner to me than you were today, which means you should be ashamed of the choices you’ve made.”
He takes a careful step forward, wincing slightly. “I was going to tell you when I got home.”
“After the fact.” I throw up my hands in disgust. “After you’d already risked everything without giving me a chance to—” I stop myself before saying something I can’t take back. “You promised me no more secrets.”
“This wasn’t about keeping secrets. It was about protecting you from?—”
I feel my voice rise with each word. “From what? From knowing the man I love is still choosing violence over safety? From understanding all those promises about stepping away from this life were complete bullshit?”
The accusation hangs between us. I watch his face cycle through several emotions, including guilt, frustration, and something that might be the shame he should be feeling.
He shifts his weight carefully. “I told you I had to deal with Vadim before we could be truly free.”
“You also promised you’d tell me when you were planning to go after him. You gave me your word we wouldn’t have any more secrets between us.”
“I knew you’d try to stop me.”
The admission is like a slap across the face. “So you decided to lie instead?”
He grunts. “I decided to handle it myself so you wouldn’t have to worry about something you couldn’t control.”
“I knew you had to go after him, but you were supposed to warn me.” I stare at him, trying to reconcile this man with the one who held me while promising me a future built on trust and honesty over the past few weeks. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”
He moves closer, though I can see the effort it costs him. “Sabrina, please?—”
I turn away from him because I can’t look at his face without feeling the urge to either scream or cry. “No. I can’t do this anymore.”
“What do you mean?” His voice trembles slightly.
I face him again, drawing strength from the anger burning in my chest. “I mean I can’t raise a child with a man who lies to me about the risks he’s taking and expects me to just accept it.”
“It was one mission,” he says with a hint of anger. “One final mission to eliminate the last threat to our family.”
I snort. “And the next time? When another enemy emerges or another crisis demands your attention? What happens then? Do you just disappear again and expect me to sit here without knowing what’s happening to you?”