30. Aurora
30
AURORA
THREE DAYS LATER
"I can still taste you on my tongue, by the way," Ruslan tells me as we stand at the entrance to the mansion, his hand entwined gently around mine.
The breeze carries the scent of roses from the garden nearby, but it does nothing to calm the storm inside me.
"You plan on kissing your mother with that mouth?" I bite my lip, surprised at my own boldness as I try and lighten the mood.
The corner of Ruslan's mouth lifting in that half-smile that makes my stomach flip.
"Only if you promise not to kiss her with yours."
Heat floods my cheeks as memories of him holding me upside down in his strong arms this morning, feasting between my legs while I sucked him dry.
A sleek black car appears as the distant wrought-iron gates open, and slowly grows larger as it moves up the long driveway. My heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to escape. What little break there was in the tension fades like morning dew in the sun.
"Why do I get the feeling she's going to take one look at me and figure out everything," I say, smoothing down my dress for the hundredth time.
"You'll be alright." Ruslan's thumb traces circles on the back of my hand, somehow both calming and electrifying at once. "My mother is many things, but she is not cruel."
"Somehow that doesn't make me any less worried." I sigh. "What if she wants to know the truth about why we're getting married?"
"Then tell her the truth," he replies. "She's been in this world long enough to know when she's being lied to."
The truth… I chew my bottom lip. And just what is that truth anymore?
When Ruslan and I first came up with this idea of a marriage, it was for our mutual benefit: he gets to avoid a marriage he doesn't want, and I get the protection that I never would've had.
But each day with him has changed something between us.
And these past three days have been the greatest revelation of them all.
Each night in his bed has stripped away another layer between us, literal and figurative. Our bodies fit together as if designed that way, but there's far more than a simple physical connection between us.
Seven years I've lived as Aurora Castellanos without letting anyone truly see me.
And somehow, in our short time together, Ruslan has seen everything.
When he looks at me, I don't feel like I'm playing a role anymore. It's like I'm a map that only he can decipher, and he knows where all of my hidden scars because it's the same ones that have marred him.
And that's what really scares me.
I'm starting to trust Ruslan, really trust him. But there's a part of me, the part of my mind where Jamie Fields cowers in fear and screams that I'm giving him the power to destroy me in ways Kristofer never could.
Because I'm granting him access to the real me.
His hand squeezes mine as the car gets closer. I glance up and catch a flicker in his eyes.
He's just as scared as I am.
He's just as afraid of what's growing between us. Of the softness that emerges when we're alone. Of the way his walls come down brick by brick when we're in the sanctuary of each other's embrace.
Neither of us planned for this. We're two broken people who recognized something familiar in each other's damage. Two souls carved by loss into shapes that somehow fit perfectly together.
Ruslan and I are reflections of each other. Both running from ghosts, both hiding our true selves, and both terrified of being hurt again.
And both finding out that maybe, just maybe, we're still capable of love.
The car stops, and a driver rushes to open the door. Liliya Dragunov emerges like royalty. Elegant, composed, and wrapped in an aura of quiet authority. Her face reveals nothing as she surveys us.
Her golden eyes look just like Ruslan's. But when they find me, I can't help but feel a different shiver run down my spine.
Those are eyes that miss nothing.
Ruslan steps forward. " Mamechka ."
She nods at him, then turns her gaze directly to me. I feel naked under her stare, like she's peeling back my skin to examine the bones beneath.
"So." Her voice is soft yet carries enormous power. "You must be Aurora Castellanos."
The way she says my name sends ice down my spine. Something in her tone tells me she sees right through me, through the lies and the mask I've worn for seven years.
"I wish to speak with her alone," Liliya says, her eyes never leaving my face.
Ruslan stiffens beside me. "Whatever you need to say to my fiancée, you can say in front of me."
"This is not a negotiation, Ruslan Vitalyevich," she replies, voice steady but with steel underneath. "I've been driven two hours to meet the woman who has allegedly captured my son's heart. Surely I deserve a moment alone with her."
" Mamechka , I don't think?—"
I place my hand on his chest, feeling his heart drumming beneath my palm. "It's okay," I whisper, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "I'll go with her."
His jaw clenches, golden eyes flashing with concern. "Are you sure?"
"Trust me." I rise on my tiptoes and press my lips against his cheek, breathing in his familiar scent of cedarwood and mahogany, tinged with just the lightest lingering essence of me on his lips.
He reluctantly steps back, and Liliya's observant gaze misses nothing about our interaction.
"Follow," she says, turning without waiting to see if I follow.
I trail behind her into the mansion, my feet shuffling silently against the marble floor as we move down a corridor I've never walked down before. The silence between us grows heavier with each step, pressing down on my shoulders like a physical weight.
What does she want? What does she know? My mind races with possibilities, each one worse than the last. I keep my expression neutral despite the screaming anxiety inside me.
Liliya stops before a heavy wooden door at the end of the corridor. She pauses, her hand on the brass handle, and for just a moment I catch something like hesitation cross her face.
Then she pushes it open and reveals an office. It's grand and imposing with dark wood paneling and bookshelves reaching to the ceiling.
Dust motes dance in the sunlight streaming through tall windows. At the center sits a massive desk that looks like it was carved from a single ancient tree.
The air smells of old books and furniture polish, with undertones of something else... perhaps cigars, smoked long ago.
Liliya points to one of two wooden chairs positioned directly in front of the desk. "Sit."
I lower myself onto the hard seat, keeping my back straight and my hands folded in my lap. The chair is uncomfortable, and I have a feeling that I'm about to be interrogated.
Liliya closes the door behind her with a soft click that somehow sounds like a prison cell locking.
"Aurora Castellanos," she says as she turns around to face me, rolling each syllable of my stolen name on her tongue as if she's tasting them for authenticity. "If that is even your real name."
My heart stops for a second, then pounds wildly against my ribs. Jamie Fields screams inside my head, but I force my face to remain neutral.
But Liliya's eyes see too much. There's a slight tilt of her head, a knowing glint in those eyes that miss nothing.
Something tells me that she doesn't just suspect.
She knows .
"I recognize this marriage for what it truly is, an act that will provoke war," she starts. "But what I want to know is why you have agreed to it."
I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "Because I care for Ruslan."
" Devushka, please." Liliya laughs bitterly as she steps closer. "Women do not marry into the bratva because they care for a man. They do it for one of two reasons: power or protection."
My fingers lace together, and my breath turns shallow as a drop of cold sweat rolls down the side of my ribs.
Her eyes narrow ever so slightly. "Which is it for you?"
Something in her gaze tells me she'll see through any falsehood.
"Protection," I admit.
She nods, satisfied with my honesty. "And what is it you need protection from?"
"My past." I take a deep breath.
She looks at me, waiting for me to continue. But I know I cannot tell her more.
"But it's not just protection for me," I say instead.
Confusion and disappointment cross her face.
"It's also for Mikayla, Sofia, and Stella," I say.
Liliya's eyebrows rise slightly, genuine surprise disrupting her composure. "Is that so?"
"Yes," I reply, my voice stronger now. "I've seen how much he cares for them. How much he wants to protect them from everything that happened to him."
"What exactly do you believe you're protecting my granddaughters from?"
"War," I say plainly. "Like you said. But not because it will be provoked by our marriage, but because it was inevitable the moment Gregor Belov made Ruslan pakhan."
Surprise flickers across her face, though she quickly masks it.
"The danger was already there," I continue, finding my confidence. "Mikayla, Sofia, and Stella have claims that make them valuable pawns. Semyon wants to rule through Mikayla while Gregor threatens to use the younger girls for his own aims. Both men see these children as nothing but assets to be manipulated."
I straighten my spine, memories of Mikayla's tears fueling my resolve.
"If Semyon takes control through Mikayla, Gregor will marry Stella and Sofia off to secure alliances and then unseat Mikayla. The only way to prevent the girls from being used against each other is this marriage."
"You have a remarkably good grasp on the situation." A ghost of a smile appears over Liliya's lips for a second. "For an outsider."
"I listen," I say simply. "And I pay attention to what Ruslan tells me."
She walks past me and circles the desk slowly, her fingertips trailing along the polished wood. "And do you believe hiding both them and yourself in this mansion is protection?"
"I—"
"Because it's not." Her voice cuts through my hesitation. "All this place offers is an illusion of safety, nothing more. These walls will do nothing to stop those who wish to do you or my granddaughters harm."
Her words hit me like ice water.
"I know what happens to people like me in this world," I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. "I know what happened to Leslie."
Liliya's eyes shiver with emotions for just a brief second. "Do you?"
"Ruslan told me. About how she was murdered while he watched." I squeeze my hands together to stop them from trembling. "About how she was brought to Vitaly by Tamara."
Liliya shakes her head slowly, sorrow aging her face. "You don't know the full story, devushka ."
She steps closer, her hand reaching out to rest on my shoulder. Her touch is gentle and soft. But somehow it feels like she's pressing down with impossible heaviness. So much so that I can't stand up even if I want to.
"That girl was murdered in the very chair you're sitting in right now."
A cold wave washes through me.
"Ruslan was tied to that other chair," she continues, pointing to the twin seat beside me. "Forced to watch every moment. Reduced to screaming helplessly as he begged his father not to do it."
My stomach churns violently. I glance down at the upholstery beneath me, imagining bloodstains that have long since been scrubbed away.
"There is no safety in this world, Aurora. Not for outsiders. Not for anyone." Her eyes fix on mine. "And that's before we even get to the dangers you might have already brought to our doorstep."
My heart stops. "What do you mean?"
What does she know?
"Are you aware that others are looking into you?" she asks, voice deceptively gentle. "And most curiously, not a single one of them was able to find anything about you beyond seven years ago?"
The room starts to spin around me.
"That makes you very intriguing." She leans closer. "And being intriguing in the bratva world is the easiest way to get killed. Often slowly and painfully."
I struggle to breathe as panic claws at my throat. I'm sitting in the same chair where Leslie died while Ruslan watched helplessly. And now Liliya knows, or at least suspects, that I'm not who I claim to be.
"If you truly care for my son, and if you are truly after protection," Liliya says, her voice soft yet penetrating, "then you will leave. You will run far away and never look back."
My heart crashes against my ribs. "What?"
"I can see it in his eyes already." She finally looks away from me towards the curtains thick with dust. "He cares for you. Perhaps more than he should."
"I—"
"When Ruslan loves, he loves completely." Her eyes turn back to me with painful clarity. "It consumes him. After Leslie, I believed he would never allow himself to be so vulnerable again. But I see how he looks at you."
I swallow hard. "That doesn't mean…" I stop myself before I say the words.
That doesn't mean he loves me.
Because I'm afraid of what it might mean if I do say them out loud.
"Either you will be hurt because of him, or he will be destroyed because of you, Aurora." She takes a long trembling breath. "I don't want either to happen. But if you go down this road with him, then you risk them both."
The air feels thin, making it hard to breathe. Leslie's ghost seems to hover around us in this office, in this chair where she died.
"There's nowhere left for me to run," I whisper, finding my voice. "I've been running for seven years."
"I was afraid that you were going to say that." Liliya steps back, sighing.
I stand up, legs trembling but holding firm. "I'm tired of running. I'm tired of being afraid."
Liliya studies me, something shifting in her expression. "Do you believe staying with my son will keep you safe from whatever's chasing you?"
"I believe we can protect each other. I believe that I won't let anyone hurt him, just as he won't let anyone hurt me."
A sad smile crosses her face. "Your bravery is commendable, devushka ." She shakes her head slowly. "But in our world, bravery is not enough."
Mikayla's words echo in my mind: To survive in this world, you cannot be a good person. You must become a monster willing to do monstrous things.
"Ruslan deserves happiness. And so do you. But together, you will only find pain." Liliya wrings her fingers. "You may go now. Tell my son I want to talk to him."
I stare at Liliya as the devastating truth sinks in. Every word she's spoken is like a knife sliding deeper into my chest.
She tells me that Ruslan and I deserve happiness. But how can I make her understand that the time with him has been the happiest of my life?
For seven years I've been hiding, running and surviving, but never living. Not really. Not until Ruslan came into my life and suddenly I could breathe again.
He showed me what it feels like to be touched with reverence instead of possession.
He made me feel safe in a way I haven't since that awful night in Kansas City when everything was taken from me.
And now, just when I've started to feel like there's a future, I'm told that I can't have it. I'm told that there can be no happiness for me and Ruslan.
That my presence will only bring him pain.
The unfairness of it all burns through me. After everything I've lost, everything I've endured.
Why can't I have this one thing?
Why can't I have him?
I turn to leave, reaching for the heavy door with fingers that won't stop trembling.
"Aurora," she calls after me, voice suddenly gentle.
I pause and look back, hoping beyond hope that she's about to tell me she's changing her mind as I fight to keep the tears from falling from my face.
Instead, she says: "Leaving him will be for your own good."
I close my eyes, and feel the tears of disappointment streaming down my face as I open the door.