Chapter Thirteen - Jessa
It’s been weeks since Markian first forced himself into every corner of my life, weeks of pacing these gilded halls and pretending not to care who comes and goes from the house.
But now something else gnaws at me: a quiet, insistent dread that has nothing to do with the Bratva, and everything to do with my own body.
I can’t remember the last time my period was late. At first, I chalked it up to stress, fear, a body in survival mode.
The days tick by, each morning a battle against nausea, my energy sucked dry by something I can’t name. Every time my hand brushes my belly, a shiver runs through me—a mixture of denial and a fear that feels bottomless.
It’s one of the younger maids, the shy one with the braid—Alina, I think—who finally slips something into my palm as she turns down my bed.
“For you,” she whispers, barely meeting my eyes. When I open my hand, I find a pregnancy test, hastily wrapped in a clean white towel.
My mouth goes dry. I thank her, voice barely audible, and tuck it into my robe, heart pounding so hard it makes me dizzy.
In the marble bathroom, I lock the door behind me, hands shaking so badly I nearly drop the box.
I pace in front of the mirror, barely recognizing the pale, frightened girl in the glass.
I fumble with the packaging, read the instructions twice, then three times.
Then, breath caught in my throat, I finally take the test.
Minutes pass, slow and cruel. I press a hand to my mouth, fighting nausea, the world tilting and spinning.
When I finally look down, it’s not just one line.
It’s two. Two lines. My vision goes white at the edges, a wave of cold panic sweeping through me so violently I have to sit on the cool floor just to keep from collapsing.
I can’t think. I can barely breathe. Pregnant. I’m pregnant. With his child.
The knowledge changes everything. Suddenly the room feels smaller, the air tighter, the house itself an elaborate, inescapable trap.
My hands shake so badly I nearly drop the test. I wrap it in a tissue, slip it into my coat pocket, and stumble out into the corridor, needing to find Markian.
I need him to know. I need someone—anyone—to tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do now.
I walk fast, nearly running, breath coming in shallow bursts. The world is too bright, too loud, every detail sharpened by panic. I make for his office, fingers gripping the doorknob so hard it hurts. I push inside without knocking.
Markian isn’t there.
Instead, Lui sits behind the massive desk, his feet up, flipping through a stack of files. A mug of coffee steams by his elbow, and he glances up at my entrance with a smirk.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he says, not moving.
I freeze, heart hammering. I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to talk to anyone but Markian. Panic makes my words tumble out, wild and rushed. “Where is he? Where’s Markian?”
Lui’s brow lifts, amusement lingering in his eyes. “What’s the rush, princess? Trouble in paradise?”
I swallow, feeling the test burn against my palm inside my coat pocket. “I need to speak to him. Please. It’s important.”
He lets the silence hang, the smirk fading as he looks me over. Something in my face must give me away, because he sits up straighter, coffee forgotten.
“He’s busy,” he says finally, his voice losing its teasing edge. “Today’s the day we take care of Chris. For real, this time.”
Chris. The name slams into me like a freight train. My mind goes back, unwilling, to that night in the garden: the whispered Russian, the plan to make someone disappear before sunrise, the American businessman who never stopped grinning at meetings.
My lips part, but no sound comes out at first. I want to scream, to run, to tear through this house until I find Markian and demand answers, demand a future, demand a way out.
My fingers curl tighter around the test in my pocket.
The plan wasn’t hypothetical. It’s now. It’s real.
And I know exactly what kind of men I’m living with.
Lui’s eyes narrow. “If you’re looking for a fairy tale ending, you’re in the wrong house,” he says quietly, almost kindly. “You want to help him, you stay out of the way. He doesn’t need distractions right now.”
I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. “You don’t understand.”
His mouth tightens. “Maybe I do. Or maybe I don’t. I do know this; he’d kill anyone for you, even if he pretends otherwise. That’s the problem, sweetheart.”
Panic surges up my throat, bitter and raw. I clutch the edges of Markian’s desk, desperate to keep from falling apart. Lui’s words echo in my mind, terrifying and undeniable. I need to fix this. I need to make him understand. Everything is spiraling out of control.
“I have to tell you something,” I stammer, voice barely more than a gasp.
My mouth feels numb, my tongue thick. “After that meeting. The one at the Midtown office… before Markian brought me here, before any of this.” I swallow, feeling my cheeks burn.
“I called Chris. I just left a message. I was scared. I told him to be careful. I said the Bratva were coming for him. I didn’t know how serious it was, I swear—”
The effect is immediate and violent. Lui leaps out of Markian’s chair, eyes wide, the mug of coffee forgotten, sloshing across the table. “You what?” His voice is a low hiss, sharp and furious, thick with Russian curses. “The fuck? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
My breath comes in panicked bursts. My knees threaten to buckle. “I didn’t know! I was terrified. I just wanted to warn him, that’s all. It was just a message. Just a stupid, terrified message—”
Lui paces, hands in his hair, muttering furiously. “Chris knows. Chris fucking knows. You told him. You… he knew we were coming, that’s why those police cars blocked us.” He turns on me, eyes blazing. “Do you have any idea how many people could die because of this?”
I shake my head, tears pricking my eyes, every word scraping my throat raw. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think—please, can’t you call Markian? Tell him not to go? Tell him it’s a trap?”
Lui’s already grabbing his phone, thumb moving so fast it’s a blur. He shouts into it, rapid Russian firing off between clenched teeth. “Abort the job. Abort! It’s a setup. He knows. Someone tipped him—”
I stand there, frozen, watching him yell.
My mind is a mess of fear and regret. I want to run, to hide, to take it back, but the words are already out in the world, unstoppable.
Chris knows Markian is coming. Knows the plan.
My warning, my desperate attempt to save a man’s life, might have just doomed the man I… love.
Lui spins, snapping his phone shut, face pale and furious. “You had one job. Stay quiet. You couldn’t even do that.” His accent thickens as he snarls. “If Markian dies tonight, if any of my men die tonight, it’s on you.”
I press my hands to my stomach, nausea rolling through me. I feel small and breakable in the cavernous office, swallowed by shadows and secrets.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I didn’t know!”
He’s not listening. He’s already dialing again, barking orders, relaying codes and warnings, trying to salvage what he can. I hear the names: Alexei, and a dozen others whose lives I may have just thrown into chaos.
I back into the wall, sliding down until I’m crouched in the corner. My body shakes. I can barely breathe. I remember the feel of Markian’s hands on my body, the certainty in his eyes, the way he always seemed unstoppable. What if he isn’t? What if he’s walking straight into a trap—because of me?
Lui finishes his calls, rounding on me. “If he gets out, you better pray he doesn’t come back here angry, Jessa. I’m not the one you’ll have to answer to.”
My voice is barely audible. “What happens now?”
He grabs his jacket, holstering a gun at his side. “Now? Now I try to clean up your mess. You stay in this house. If anyone comes for you, you lock the fucking door and don’t open it. Understood?”
I nod, but I don’t trust myself to speak. I want to scream, to beg, to promise I’ll fix it, but there’s nothing left. Only the cold certainty of what I’ve done, and the terror of what comes next.
I want to pray, but I don’t even know what for. Forgiveness? Survival? For Markian to come home, or to stay far away, safe, never knowing the depth of my mistake?
I let the tears come, rocking myself as the rain starts again outside, drowning the city in sorrow. Every hope I had for this future, for this child, for anything beyond survival, crumbles into dust with every second that ticks by and every heartbeat that could be his last.
I can’t stand his eyes on me, the blame and fury simmering there. Before Lui can hurl another word, I stand, turn, and flee, desperate for distance, for air. The door thuds behind me as I bolt into the hallway, footsteps echoing over the marble.
My chest is tight with terror. I hear Lui’s heavy tread close behind, the sound of his shoes relentless, too close.
“Jessa! Stop!” His shout ricochets off the gilded walls.
My heart pounds in my ears, louder than his voice, drowning out everything but the primal urge to escape.
I don’t slow, don’t look back. My fingers scrabble for the railing as I round the corner at the end of the corridor, nearly slipping on the edge of the ornate rug.
He’s faster than I expect, fueled by fury and something more. A rough hand snags my arm near the staircase, spinning me so hard I slam into the wall, the breath knocked from my lungs. His face looms close, dark with anger, jaw clenched, breath hot.
“You think you can run from this?” he hisses, fingers digging into my wrist. “You don’t understand what you’ve started!”
Fear chokes me. I struggle, panic giving me strength. “Let me go!” I wrench my arm free, desperation lending me a wildness I didn’t know I had. He grabs for me again, but I twist away, elbowing past his broad shoulder. My feet hit the floor, and I sprint, heart racing, lungs burning.
I barely register the blur of doors, paintings, gilded mirrors as I run down the hallway, the world narrowed to one thought: Get away. Get safe. Just get away. I hear Lui curse behind me, his heavy steps pounding after mine.
Somehow, I make it to my bedroom door. I fumble with the handle, nearly dropping it, my fingers slick with sweat.
I slam the door, shoulder aching, and turn the lock with shaking hands.
For a moment, I can’t move. I just stand there, pressed against the wood, willing it to hold, to keep the world out.
Lui’s fist slams against the door, once—twice—so hard I feel the vibrations through my back. “Open this door!” he growls. “Don’t make this worse for yourself, Jessa!” His voice is a threat and a promise all at once.
I squeeze my eyes shut, silent, refusing to answer, hardly daring to breathe. My legs tremble beneath me. I wait, holding my breath until, finally, his footsteps retreat, fading down the corridor until there’s nothing left but the muffled sounds of a house too big for one terrified girl.
I stumble to the bed, knees giving out beneath me, and collapse onto the comforter.
My hands curl over my belly, nails biting into my palms. Tears burn down my cheeks, silent at first, then harder, my body shaking with sobs I can’t swallow down.
I rock myself, shivering, trying to find a scrap of calm in the storm of panic and guilt.
The walls press in around me, every gilded surface turning cold and sharp. I have never felt so powerless, so impossibly alone. My body aches with the weight of what I’ve done, the secret I carry growing heavier with every breath.