Chapter 3 #2
His jaw flexed. He didn’t stop me.
Trying to hide the tremble in my hands, I slid a finger under the flap and pulled out a single photograph. That’s when the world slowly tilted and nausea roiled in my guts.
It was a picture of a pregnancy test.
Not just any test. Mine.
The one I’d taken in my old apartment. The one I’d wrapped in paper towels and dropped into the trash under the sink before Maksim came to get me.
The photo was crystal clear. High resolution.
The word “pregnant” unmistakable. Though there were a million tests that could’ve looked like that, my trashcan and the crappy, cracked, and peeling vinyl-tiled floor of my bathroom were visible in the background.
Beneath the white stick, written on the photo in Sharpie, in the same neat handwriting as the envelope: Congratulations.
I couldn’t breathe. Bile hit the back of my throat.
“They were in my apartment,” I whispered. “Archer. They were in my apartment.”
Archer’s hand closed around my elbow, steadying me as my knees buckled and threatened to give out.
He caught the photograph as it slipped from my cold fingertips.
He glanced at it and took a deep breath that he let out in a rush.
His voice was calm, but something lethal flickered behind his eyes. “When was the test taken?”
“Before I moved.” My throat burned. “Before Maksim’s apartment. Before you.”
Which meant they’d been watching me longer than I’d thought. Watching. Waiting. It was then I knew that all the times I had a feeling like someone was stalking me, they really were. It hadn’t been my overactive imagination.
My phone buzzed. A new message. Unknown number. I stared at the screen, dread pooling heavy as lead in my chest.
Unknown: You should be more careful what you throw away.
My vision tunneled. Archer took the phone from my hand, reading it once before swearing softly under his breath.
“They know my schedule,” I said numbly. “They know where I work. They know I’m pregnant.”
“Yes,” Archer said. “That’s what we were afraid of.
Part of why Maksim wanted you to stick to the apartment is so they wouldn’t get tipped off that he had left the country.
If they are watching you, they’ve been watching you for some time.
They know he’s attentive to you. Suddenly, it’s me and not him that’s here.
They want you afraid. Not dead. Not yet. ”
“Yet,” I echoed faintly as ringing filled my ears.
He turned his head, scanning the bar, the windows, the street outside. He didn’t need to speak the words to tell me what was going through his mind. Every patron had become a potential threat. Every shadow deepened. Every sound sharpened.
“You’re leaving,” he insisted, his tone firm and unyielding.
“I can’t just walk out—”
“You can,” he cut in. “And you will.”
I shook my head, tears burning. “Maksim said to keep you in arm’s reach. He said I’d be safe as long as I was with you.”
Archer met my eyes. “Maksim did not say to ignore proof that someone has been inside your home. I can only keep you so safe if you insist on placing yourself out in the open.”
That broke something within me and made me swallow my stubborn pride. This wasn’t just about me. I pressed my hand to my stomach, fighting the panic crashing through me. “They know the baby is Maksim’s.”
Archer’s expression hardened completely as he firmly set the image on the bar top. “Yes, they do. Which means they have crossed a line they shouldn’t have. For this, they will not survive.”
He pulled out his phone and dialed without hesitation. As the phone rang, he met my gaze and said, “Gather your things. Tell your coworker you are sick.”
Reluctantly, I nodded.
“Maksim,” he said the moment the line connected. “Things have escalated. She received a photograph at her place of work. Yes. The test. From inside her apartment.”
I couldn’t hear Maksim’s response, but Archer went still, listening.
“Yes. I agree. I already planned to relocate her immediately.”
My chest hitched. “Relocate?”
Archer covered the phone briefly. “Do what I said. We’re leaving. Now.”
“But my job… my things—”
“You don’t need things,” he murmured quietly. “You need to live.”
He turned away, speaking rapidly into the phone.
The front door opened, and a cold winter wind swirled briefly before it closed tight.
Brody and Rhiannon were all smiles as they strolled in, arm in arm.
They took seats at the bar. Kiki spoke to them and then turned to grab one of our most expensive bottles of tequila off the shelf.
With Archer at the other end of the counter, I couldn’t hear what he was saying.
Vaguely, I was aware of Archer lowering his phone slightly and striding to where Brody and Rhiannon were laughing with Kiki. He ended his call and began speaking to Brody.
With heavy feet, I made my way to where they all sat. As I got there, I heard Archer say I was sick, he was my brother, and he was taking me home.
Kiki turned to me as Archer prowled to the front entrance and looked out into the dark night. “I didn’t know you had a brother,” she suspiciously murmured.
“Me either,” Brody chimed in with a concerned frown.
Giving them a small smile that I hoped seemed reassuring, I nodded.
“Well, half-brother. And yeah, he lives in North Carolina, so we don’t see each other much.
He’s only in town for the holidays. Awful time for me to be sick, but I think it might be the flu.
My friend had it last week.” The lies rolled effortlessly off my tongue, and I honestly didn’t know who I was anymore.
Brody cast a glance at Archer, seeming unconvinced. Finally, he returned his attention to me. “Okay, well, take all the time you need. Stop by urgent care on your way home and maybe you can get the Tamiflu thing. Rhiannon said she can help out while you’re out.”
“Just take care of yourself. I’m on a staycation through the end of the year, so I can help Brody here,” Rhiannon confirmed. She gave me a kind and concerned smile.
“Thank you both,” I choked out as my hands shook, trying to slide the photograph back into the envelope. It took several tries. The neat handwriting mocked me.
Congratulations, they had said. This wasn’t a warning anymore. It was a promise.
And somewhere, someone was smiling, knowing they’d finally gotten under my skin— and likely Maksim’s. Knowing they’d proven one thing beyond doubt—they had no trouble gaining access to my home, my work, to me.
Konstantin had been right.
I was a liability to Maksim.
And Archer was right.
I wasn’t safe.