Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Red
Concrete, disinfectant, sweat, and the metallic stench of my blood flare around me. The chair digs into my back, the metal cold even through my shirt. My wrists ache where the ties bite, my circulation returning in uneven pulses that crawl up my forearms.
Adrian paces in front of me, his shoes clicking in a precise rhythm, voice low and furious as he fires Russian at Mikhail, and who I've come to realize is Demi's father, Obrecht.
I keep my head up, trying not to look defiant or submissive, just present.
Adrian stops in front of me, his glare cuts into me, and he says something I don't understand but don't need translated. His intent lands full of anger and warning.
Then the door opens and everything shifts. Even Adrian stills.
A man steps inside with unhurried confidence, salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, suit tailored within an inch of perfection. He carries himself like he expects the room to rearrange around him, and it does. Mikhail straightens. Obrecht goes quiet. Adrian's jaw tightens.
The man speaks Russian, with a thick accent and clipped delivery. His voice is calm, but it carries weight.
Adrian fires back immediately, anger sharp and fast, the words colliding midair.
I track the exchange solely by posture. The man doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't need to.
Adrian can't control his rage. His voice rises higher with every new word.
I study the newcomer while they argue. He doesn't glance at me at first. He listens with his head slightly tilted, hands loose at his sides, and stare focused on Adrian like he's measuring distance rather than words.
Then his gaze finally flickers over to me. It's not long, and just enough for me to catalog. Then he switches to English. "No one touches him." He peers closer with a scowl as if I'm a problem he didn't plan for, something inconvenient that needs to be dealt with properly.
Adrian explodes. Russian spills out of him in a rush, and his hands cut through the air. He steps closer to the man, invading his space, daring him to push back.
The man doesn't move. He speaks again in Russian. This time it's sharper yet still controlled.
Adrian snaps something back.
The temperature in the room spikes.
Mikhail shifts his weight.
Obrecht stays close to his brother's side, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turn white.
I start putting pieces together and decide it has to be Maksim Ivanov, head of the family and Blue's uncle. His name alone carries as much weight as Adrian's, but in a more authoritarian way.
I knew he looked familiar.
I saw him once, years ago, at a fundraiser. The memory's hazy, but his presence is unmistakable now that he's in the room.
Maksim gestures toward the door with a single flick of his hand. He says something short and hard.
Adrian argues again.
Maksim cuts him off mid-sentence, voice slicing clean through the noise. He turns and walks toward the door without waiting.
Adrian stares after him, breathing heavy, then snaps something at Obrecht.
Obrecht hesitates, eyes darting to me, then follows.
Adrian shoots me one last look full of promise and violence before stepping out.
The metal door slams shut. The sound reverberates through the room and into my bones.
Silence stretches, thick and oppressive. Only Mikhail remains with me, standing off to my right, arms crossed, expression closed.
I let my breath out slowly through my nose. My heart hammers, but I keep my face neutral. Panic wastes energy, and I don't have it to spare.
Mikhail breaks the silence first. "Lucky day," he says in English, tone dry. "You made quite an impression."
"I didn't ask for this," I reply.
He snorts. "No one ever does."
I shift slightly, testing the restraints again. They hold.
Mikhail notices and smiles faintly. "Don't. It won't help."
I snarl, "You enjoying this?"
His smile fades. "Enjoyment isn't part of my job."
"You shocked me twice. Dragged me here. Watched me get slapped around. Pretty sure you're enjoying every minute of this," I seethe.
Mikhail shrugs one shoulder. "Orders."
"So you're just an order taker?" I dig.
Mikhail's eyes darken. He warns, "Watch your mouth."
I snort. "Or what? You're going to hurt me again?"
He takes a moment to assess me, then his voice drops. "Blue's always made stupid decisions."
I hiss, "Blue didn't do anything wrong. Shut your mouth about her."
He scoffs, "You think this is about right and wrong?"
"No. It's about control. And he doesn't own her."
Mikhail's gaze sharpens. "Careful."
"Don't speak about her while I'm still breathing," I threaten.
He huffs a humorless laugh. "You're breathing because two powerful men are arguing about you like a piece of property."
The truth of it settles heavily in my chest. I stare at the wall and force my thoughts back into order. Blue's face flashes behind my eyes, her smile this morning, the way she curled into me like she trusted the ground beneath her feet because I was there.
I promised I'd call.
She's going to be worried.
Is she spiraling?
Mikhail watches me, then says quietly, "I warned you. Several times."
"That you did," I agree.
"So why didn't you just listen?" he asks.
A smile forms as I reply, "I love her. Do you have any idea what it's like to really love a woman?"
A tortured expression appears on his face. Before he can answer, the door opens again.
Maksim steps back into the room with Adrian and Obrecht in tow. The air tightens. Adrian looks restrained by force of will alone. Obrecht looks unhappy and grinds his molars.
Maksim stops in front of me, close enough that I can see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. He studies me openly, neither unkind nor sympathetic. He continues to assess me, then speaks in English. "You understand why this happened?"
"Yes," I say.
"You involve yourself with my niece. You challenge her father."
"I didn't challenge him. I chose her. He doesn't own her. She's an adult, and there's a difference," I argue.
Adrian lets out a sharp laugh.
Maksim lifts a hand without looking at him. He observes, "You're calm."
"I had time to practice," I say.
His mouth twitches. Then he turns and speaks in Russian.
Adrian snaps back, the argument reignites, and they exchange fast and heated words. I catch my name once. Blue's name twice.
Maksim finally raises his voice and barks, "Enough. She's pregnant, and you know you can't follow through with your plans."
Pregnant?
It cuts through the noise like a blade. My focus locks. My breath stutters.
Maksim turns toward me. "Is that correct?"
My head snaps up. My mouth hangs open, and no words come out.
Adrian glares at me, fury sharpened into something personal.
Obrecht looks stricken.
"Is it true Blue is pregnant?" Maksim asks, watching my reaction closely.
Joy hits first, bright and overwhelming, followed immediately by fear so sharp it steals my breath. A child. Our child. A life I don't get to protect from inside a concrete room with zip ties biting into my wrists.
I look at Adrian, then at Mikhail, then back to Maksim. "I didn't know. But...but we're having a baby?" Another gleeful shot of happiness hits me, and I grin.
Maksim studies me a second longer, then nods once as if something just clicked into place. He orders Mikhail, "Release him."
Mikhail hesitates.
"Now," Maksim snaps.
Mikhail lunges forward and cuts the zip ties. Blood rushes painfully back into my hands, pins and needles flaring. I grit my teeth and stay upright, unsure if I am allowed to stand.
Maksim flicks his pointer finger at me. "Get up. You're coming with me."
I force my body upright, take a moment for my shaky legs to find their footing.
"You were never here. This never happened. Understand?" he asks.
I nod.
"I expect answers when I speak to you," he belts out.
"Yes. I understand," I state.
"Good. Let's go," he orders, and leads me through the room and into one with a desk. He opens the front door.
Sunlight hits my eyes the second I step through the doorway, harsh and white, and I blink hard until the concrete blur turns into a parking area and two black SUVs. My legs wobble once, then lock. I keep moving because stopping gives Adrian time to change his mind, and I don't trust his restraint.
Maksim doesn't look back to check if I'm following. He expects it.
Mikhail trails behind us, hands clasped in front of him like he's escorting a guest instead of a man he zip-tied to a chair an hour ago.
My wrists throb where plastic bit into skin. My stomach clenches when I remember the shock, my body seizing, and the humiliation of being powerless. But I keep my face neutral, spine straight, and mouth shut.
Maksim opens the SUV's rear door and gestures for me to get in. His eyes flick over my bruised cheek, the trembling still lingering in my hands, and something hard settles deeper into his expression. He orders, "Sit."
I obey.
Cold leather hits the backs of my thighs. My hands rest on my knees, fingers flexing. Blood still rushes in and out in pulses, and I hate that my body is still recovering while my mind is already sprinting ahead.
Blue's pregnant.
The words repeat in my head with no mercy. It lights something in my chest that I can't shut off. It also drags fear right behind it, sharp enough to make my throat tighten.
My baby will be part Ivanov.
Maksim slides in beside me and shuts the door. He leans forward and taps the divider once.
The driver pulls forward. We roll out of the lot, and the crumbled city moves past tinted windows.
"Where are we?" I ask.
Maksim stares straight ahead, jaw set. "That's not your business. Do you understand why you are in this position?"
I glance at him. "I love her."
His eyes cut toward me. "That is not an answer."
I swallow, the inside of my cheek aching. "I got involved with your niece."
He corrects, "You mean you took advantage of her, correct?"
I swallow hard. "I understand this looks bad."
He scowls. "You're her therapist?"
I deeply exhale, not flinching under his gaze.