27. Aurora
27
AURORA
Exhaustion hits me as I climb into bed, my body sinking into the mattress that feels both too soft and somehow not soft enough. I stare at the ceiling, wondering how I'll ever fall asleep with so many questions swirling in my mind.
But somehow, darkness claims me anyway.
And with it comes a familiar nightmare.
In my nightmare, I'm home again. Not Aurora's apartment in L.A., but Jamie's house in Kansas City. The wallpaper Mom picked out. Dad's recliner. The family photos lining the staircase.
Everything is as it should be, except for the silence. It's too quiet.
"Mom?" I call out, moving through the living room. "Dad?"
I turn the corner into the kitchen and freeze.
Blood. So much blood. My mother's body slumped over the kitchen table, her blonde hair matted with red. My father crumpled on the floor beside her, his eyes open but seeing nothing.
"No," I whisper, backing away. "No, no, no..."
I bump into something solid behind me and whirl around.
There's my little brother, his face pale and still. But he's not the only one.
Beside him is Mikayla, then Stella and Sofia, their small bodies bloody, and their eyes vacant.
And Ruslan. God, Ruslan is there too, his golden eyes dimmed, a dark stain spreading across his chest.
"This is what happens," a familiar voice says from the shadows. "This is what happens when you run from me, Jamie."
Kristofer steps into the light, his police uniform pristine despite the carnage around him. His smile is the same one I remember.
That perfect, disarming curve of wormy lips.
But his green eyes hold no smile. They look almost lifeless as he walks towards me.
"Look what you made me do, Jamie," he whispers, gesturing to the bodies. "All of them. Because of you."
He moves closer, backing me against the wall. I can't breathe. Can't scream. Can't move.
"You thought he could protect you?" Kristofer's face is inches from mine now, his fingers digging into my arms as his other hand points at Ruslan's lifeless body. "From me? You thought he could hide you?"
"Please," I beg. "Please don't?—"
"Look what you made me do," he repeats, pinning me against the wall with his body. I feel his breath hot on my face. "And I'll do it again. And again. Until you understand that there's nowhere you can run where I won't find you."
His hands close around my throat, and all I can do is scream and scream and scream.
I wake up thrashing, a shriek tearing from my throat. The sheets are tangled around my legs like restraints. Sweat plasters my hair to my forehead.
I barely have time to catch my breath before the door to my room bursts open. In the dim light, I see Ruslan's silhouette filling the doorway, his broad shoulders tense, his hands curled into fists.
He looks ready to kill.
" Zarechka !" His voice is sharp with alarm, eyes scanning the room for threats.
A sob escapes my throat as the nightmare's images still cling to my vision. All that blood, those lifeless bodies, Kristofer's eyes staring into mine.
I'm shaking so hard my teeth chatter.
"I—I'm sorry," I stammer, trying to collect myself. "I had a nightmare."
Ruslan moves to my side in three long strides, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sits beside me. Without hesitation, I fall against him, burying my face into his chest.
His arms come around me immediately, strong and solid.
"You're safe," he murmurs against my hair, one large hand stroking down my back. His voice rumbles through his chest and into mine. "I've got you."
I clutch at his powerful frame. His scent, cedarwood and mahogany, helps anchor me to reality, pulling me away from the blood-soaked kitchen of my nightmares.
"It felt so real," I whisper. "He?—"
"He's not here," Ruslan says firmly, his arms tightening around me. "He can't touch you."
My breath comes in uneven gasps. "He killed everyone. You, Mikayla, Stella, Sofia... just like my parents."
Ruslan pulls back just enough to tip my chin up, forcing me to look at him. In the dim light, his golden eyes are fierce and determined.
"Look at me, zarechka . It's just a nightmare. I am here." His thumb brushes away a tear on my cheek. "And as long as I am here, he will never find you."
I clutch at Ruslan, forcing myself to take deep breaths as my heart still hammers against my ribs.
"It felt so real," I whisper. "The wallpaper, the furniture, even the pictures on the walls. It was like I was back home in Kansas City."
I glance up and freeze when I see Ruslan's expression. His eyes have sharpened, his jaw tightening and I realize what I've just said.
Kansas City.
The name hangs between us like a live grenade.
I'd never meant to reveal where I came from.
"I—" Panic surges through me. "I didn't?—"
" Zarechka ." His voice is gentle but firm as he pulls me closer. "I don't need to know where you came from to know who you are now."
My breath hitches.
"Everyone has secrets." His hand cradles the back of my head, golden eyes steady on mine. "What matters is that you're here. You're safe."
The tightness in my chest begins to loosen.
"Are the girls okay?" I ask, needing to hear that my nightmare was just that.
"They're fine. Sleeping peacefully." His thumb brushes across my cheek, wiping away tears I hadn't realized were falling. "Not a peep from a single one of them."
That's when I finally register that Ruslan is shirtless, his tattooed chest and arms fully visible in the soft moonlight filtering through the window. The intricate designs seem to shift with each breath he takes and with each subtle movement.
I swallow hard, suddenly very aware of how little separates us.
Instead of pulling away, I find myself nestling closer, drawn to his warmth and strength. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek feels like the safest sound in the world.
"Will you stay?" The question slips out before I can stop it, quiet and vulnerable. "Please?"
Ruslan studies my face for a long moment, then nods. "Of course."
He shifts, pulling back the covers to slip in beside me. He stretches his long frame alongside mine as he settles in. The massive bed suddenly feels so much smaller with his powerful body in it.
Without hesitation, he gathers me against him, one strong arm slipping beneath my neck while the other drapes across my waist. I nestle into the space between his shoulder and chest. A space that feels designed just for me.
"Better?" he murmurs.
I nod, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my back chase away the last fragments of my nightmare. His skin is warm against mine, the heat of him seeping through my thin nightgown.
"Much better," I whisper.
His hand rests lightly on my hip, neither demanding nor retreating. Just... present. Like him. The contrast between this gentleness and the fierce, commanding man who strikes fear into others is breathtaking.
I find his free hand and lace my fingers through his, studying the intricate tattoos that wind around his fingers and knuckles. The tiny bird with broken wings seems to flutter in the moonlight.
Bringing his hand to my lips, I press a soft kiss against his knuckles.
"Thank you," I murmur against his skin.
"For what?" His voice is a low rumble in the darkness.
"For being here."
He pulls me closer in response, his lips brushing my forehead.
The question about the Garza girl that Mikayla mentioned hovers on the tip of my tongue. Part of me aches to know the full story, to understand the shadows that cross Ruslan's face whenever his past surfaces.
But now isn't the time. Not when he's holding me like I'm something precious, something worth protecting. Not when the nightmare's chill is only just leaving my bones.
Some truths can wait for daylight.
For now, I just want to be with him. Not the pakhan, not the protector, not the man with the tragic past. Just Ruslan. Just this moment where I feel more myself than I have in seven years.
Ruslan's breath is warm against my ear as he whispers, "Mikayla told me you two had a talk while I took the little ones for ice cream."
My body stiffens slightly. "She did?"
His fingers trace idle patterns on my hip. "She said you're a good person. Which makes me curious what you discussed."
I hesitate, carefully choosing my words. "She told more about your world. About the expectations from the bratvas."
Now it's his turn to tense. I feel his chest hardening against my back. The arm draped over my waist grows heavier, as if he's bracing himself.
"What else?" His voice carries an edge now.
"Just... things I should understand if I'm marrying into this family."
Silence stretches between us, filled only by our breathing. I wonder if I should say more.
Finally, Ruslan sighs. "She told you about Lev and Tamara's marriage, didn't she?"
"Yes." No point lying. "She did."
"And?"
"She told me about the screams she heard behind their bedroom door." I swallow hard. "About what Tamara went through."
Ruslan's arm tightens around me, not possessively but as if seeking comfort. "The Lev I knew and the Lev that Tamara lived with... sometimes I can't believe they were the same person."
I place my hand over his, squeezing gently.
"Lev was my protector when we were children." His voice is barely audible. "He'd kept me safe from our father the best he could. He taught me how to ride a bike. How to throw a punch."
I turn in his arms to face him, finding his golden eyes troubled in the moonlight.
"But I also knew what he was with Tamara..." He shakes his head. "And it makes me feel guilty."
"Why would you feel guilty?"
"Because..." He hesitates, his thumb brushing across my cheek. "Because part of me knows that she wasn't wrong. She wanted me to save her. But…"
I wait for Ruslan to continue, watching his face in the moonlight. His chiseled features seem cast in shadow, like he's recalling a memory he's tried to bury.
"I could never be her savior," he finally says, his voice rough. "Not after what she did."
I turn to face him fully, our bodies close under the covers. My fingers find his face in the darkness, tracing the strong line of his jaw.
"What happened, Ruslan?" I whisper.
He closes his eyes at my touch, as if drawing strength from it. When he opens them again, they hold a pain that makes my chest ache.
"Her name was Leslie Garza," he begins softly. "She lived in a small town not far from here. An ordinary girl whose parents owned a small bakery."
He looks away briefly. "I was sixteen when I asked her out. She didn't know what I was, or what my family did."
I stroke his cheek, encouraging him to continue.
"By eighteen, I knew I wanted to marry her. She was a light of kindness in a world tainted by darkness." A small, sad smile touches his lips. "We'd sneak away whenever we could. Plan our future together. I thought, I truly believed that I could ignore the reality of my father's world."
The smile fades. "But Vitaly was at war with the Mikonov Bratva. A war he was winning. And Tamara..."
His jaw tightens under my fingers.
"Tamara knew that she would be the price of peace. She thought she could negotiate so she might not marry Lev. So, she went behind his back directly to my father with an offer. If she could free me from my delusions, then he might free her from her obligations."
My blood chills at his tone.
"She kidnapped Leslie. Brought her to Vitaly as proof that she could do whatever was needed. Then she had my father make me watch as..."
His voice breaks, and I pull him closer.
"As he killed her. Right in front of me."
Every word he speaks shatters something inside me. My hand trembles against his cheek, my throat so tight I can barely swallow.
"My God, Ruslan," I whisper, unable to contain the horror. "That's horrible."
His golden eyes glitter with unshed tears in the darkness. I've never seen him look so vulnerable, so human. The mighty pakhan stripped bare of his armor.
"I've carried that with me every day since." His voice cracks, just slightly. "All of it. The guilt. The failure. The knowledge that it was all my fault."
I slide my fingers into his hair, cradling his head. "How was it your fault?"
"I was the one who brought Leslie into my world. I was the one who thought I could protect her." He closes his eyes, pain etched into every line of his face. "I couldn't save her. I was tied down in my chair and could only beg as father..."
He doesn't finish the sentence. Doesn't need to.
"Lev went behind father's back. He negotiated directly with Tamara's father Denis for her hand and ended the war." Ruslan's jaw tightens. "Denis knew Lev would be pakhan. He knew Lev was a better match than me."
The tears in his eyes refuse to fall, but I feel the trembling in his powerful body.
"Father was furious at both of us. At Lev for undermining him. At me for not stepping up when Tamara presented her offer." His laugh is bitter, hollow. "So he disowned me from succession. Cut me out of the future of the bratva."
"But you still stayed?"
"He wasn't going to let me leave just because he disowned my inheritance. He forced me to stay in the business, but only to move guns. Nothing else."
I press my forehead to his, my heart breaking for the boy he was, for the weight he's carried.
"From that day forward, I knew the truth," he whispers. "I can't protect the people I care about. Not from this life. Not from monsters like Vitaly, or from Tamara."
His arm tightens around me, and I feel his unspoken fear.
"And now you're here," he says. "And I'm terrified I'll fail you too."
I reach up to touch Ruslan's face, feeling the roughness of his stubble against my palm. The pain is etched into the lines around his eyes, and so are the shadows of guilt that have haunted him for so long.
He's been living with the failure and the guilt for all these years.
No wonder he looked back at me that day when he brought me to my tower, and told me that the one good thing of that awful day was the fact that he saved me.
"Listen to me," I whisper, holding his gaze with mine. "You're not that eighteen-year-old boy anymore. You're not helpless."
His golden eyes watch me with such vulnerability it makes my chest ache.
"I've seen what you can do, Ruslan." I brush my thumb across his cheekbone. "When you showed up at my apartment while that man tried to kill me, you protected me without hesitation."
His breathing steadies somewhat.
"You brought your nieces here right from under their mother's nose because you knew they needed protection. And you've taken on a role you never wanted because you understand what's at stake." My voice grows stronger with every word. "Those aren't the actions of someone who can't protect the people they care about."
His hand slides up to cover mine, pressing it more firmly against his face.
"You were a boy then, forced to watch as cruel people did cruel things," I continue. "But you're not that boy anymore. You're the man who saved me. The man who keeps me safe."
The weight of my own words hits me. I marvel at how completely I trust him, and how secure I feel in his arms despite everything.
But above all else, I marvel at how much I've come to care for him in this short time.
"You won't fail me," I whisper, inching closer until our breaths mingle. "I know that."
His golden eyes search mine, seeking reassurance, seeking truth. I lean in, pressing my lips to his with gentle determination. He remains still for a heartbeat before responding, his mouth moving against mine with a tenderness that makes my heart squeeze.
I slide my body against his, craving his warmth, his strength. My hands find their way to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my palm.
"I believe in you," I breathe against his lips. "Do you understand? I feel safe with you. I trust you."