34. Aurora
34
AURORA
"Her name is Jamie Fields."
The words electrify the air and freeze everyone in place. My heart stops, then hammers wildly against my ribs like it's trying to punch its way out.
No. No no no.
Seven years of running. Seven years of hiding. Seven years of never speaking that name aloud. And now it echoes through the room like a death knell.
Tamara's triumphant smile cuts through me like a knife. My gaze darts around the reception, watching as confusion blooms on every face.
Every eye locked on me. Watching me. Seeing me.
The real me.
I can't breathe. The wedding dress constricts around my chest like a python. The walls seem to close in, faces blur together, and suddenly I'm standing back there in my childhood home. The smell of blood is thick in the air.
And that awful message.
Look what you made me do.
Ruslan reaches for me. " Zarechka! "
I flinch away from his touch. How does Tamara know? Who told her? The only person who knows is Hannah, and she would never...
But someone did. Someone found me.
Which means Kristofer will find me too!
"I'm sorry," I choke out, gathering my skirts. "I can't!"
And then I'm running. Past the stunned guests. Past Gregor Belov's calculating stare. Past the armed guards who don't know which threat they're supposed to protect against.
The mansion swallows me whole as I rush through its winding corridors, the hem of my wedding dress catching on corners, trailing behind me like a ghost. I don't know where I'm running, just that I'm running away.
Away from their stares.
Away from the truth that's finally caught up to me.
I find a small sitting room and slam the door behind me, sinking to the floor in a sea of white tulle. My fingers tremble as I claw at the crown still perched on my head, and fling it across the room.
Jamie Fields is dead. But with just a few words, Tamara brought her back to life in the worst possible way.
I don't know how long I sit there, breathing in short, painful gasps, before I hear footsteps approaching. A gentle knock at the door.
When I don't answer, the door opens.
"Aurora?" Ruslan's voice is soft and uncertain.
No, not Aurora. Not anymore.
I look up at Ruslan through tear-blurred eyes as he stands in the doorway. His face shifts between emotions. Concern, confusion, and determination mixing all at once. I press my back against the wall, draw my knees to my chest, and try to will myself to disappear into the fabric of my wedding dress.
"Please go," I whisper, my voice cracking. "You don't want any part of this. You don't want... me."
But Ruslan doesn't leave. Instead, he closes the door softly behind him. My chest tightens as he crosses the room, his expression unreadable.
"Ruslan, please."
He kneels beside me, his imposing frame somehow gentle as he folds down to my level. Without a word, he reaches for me. I flinch, expecting... what? Accusations? Anger? Disgust?
Instead, his strong arms wrap around me, pulling me against his chest. The familiar scent of cedarwood and mahogany envelops me, and something inside me breaks open.
"I'm sorry," I sob, clutching at his jacket. "I'm so sorry. I lied to you. I lied to everyone."
The tears come harder now, unstoppable. Seven years of fear, of looking over my shoulder, of reinventing myself all pours out of me in violent, shuddering sobs. My fingers dig into the expensive fabric of his suit, desperately holding on like he might vanish if I let go.
"I should have told you the truth. I wanted to tell you."
Ruslan doesn't speak. He doesn't push me away or demand explanations. He just holds me, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other a steady pressure on my back. His silence isn't judgment. It's permission.
Permission to fall apart in his arms.
"I'm sorry," I choke out between sobs. "I'm so sorry."
His grip tightens, and I feel his lips press against the top of my head. My wedding veil has long since fallen away, leaving me exposed, vulnerable. But in his arms, I don't feel afraid.
The storm inside me gradually quiets, my sobs softening into hiccupping breaths. Ruslan continues to hold me, rocking slightly, his thumb tracing small circles on my spine.
"It doesn't matter what Tamara says," Ruslan murmurs, brushing tears from my cheeks with his thumb. "It doesn't change how I feel about you."
I pull back, shaking my head violently. "It should! Don't you understand? You married a lie. I'm not Aurora Castellanos. I'm—" My voice falters. I still can't bring myself to say the name that I've discarded for seven years. "I'm not the person you think I am! Maybe I never was."
"Look at me," Ruslan says, gently turning my face toward his. His golden eyes hold mine captive, searching. There's no malice there, no judgment. Just warmth. "I don't care what name you use."
"How can you say that?" My voice cracks with frustration. "You don't even know who I really am!"
"Don't I?" His voice drops lower, tender yet firm. "You're the woman who wasn't afraid to criticize that ridiculous script in the alleyway. The woman who defended my nieces both from me and for me. Who loves espresso and salted caramel cakes because they remind her of a simpler time." His fingers trace my jawline. "The woman who reminded others they're still human even when they married monsters. Who chose to remain with me even after she learned what I failed to protect."
Each word strips away another layer of my defenses. Each truth he sees in me feels like both a gift and a burden.
"I don't deserve this," I whisper, fresh tears welling. "I don't deserve you. I'll only bring danger to your door. To your family."
A humorless laugh escapes him. "Have you forgotten what I am, zarechka ?" His hand slides to cup the nape of my neck. "No danger will come to us as long as you're with me."
I nod and collapse against Ruslan, letting his strong arms encircle me completely. I feel safer there than I have any right to feel. His fingers thread through my hair with a gentleness that makes me want to weep all over again.
"Tell me," he whispers against my temple. "Tell me everything."
I take a shuddering breath. The truth has been locked inside me for so long that it feels like pulling out shards of glass to speak it aloud.
"His name is Kristofer Christensen," I start, my voice barely audible even to my own ears. "He was a police cadet when I met him. We dated for a year in high school."
Ruslan's hand never stops its soothing motion in my hair, but I feel his body tense at the mention of Kristofer's occupation.
"When I tried to break things off, he... he wouldn't accept it." My throat tightens around the words. "He started following me everywhere. I couldn't report him because he'd already joined the force at that point. And his friends were all cops."
I close my eyes, pressing my face into Ruslan's chest as the images flood back.
"I told you that he wrote a message on the wall in my family's blood, but I never told you what that message was. It was just a single line." I swallow hard and look up at him through a haze of tears. "Look what you made me do."
Ruslan's arms tighten around me, and a sound rumbles from deep within his chest. A sound of pure rage. His hand stills in my hair momentarily before resuming its gentle strokes.
"I ran," I whisper. "I just ran and ran until I couldn't anymore. That was when I saw the accident by the time I reached the Eastern Sierras. That was when I saw the real Aurora Castellanos."
Tears slip down my cheeks again. "I stole a dead girl's life, Ruslan. I left my family unburied. What kind of person does that make me?"
Ruslan cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away my tears. The tenderness in his eyes undoes me.
"It makes you a survivor," he says quietly. "Who did whatever it took to stay alive."
"I'm a thief," I choke out, my voice raw from crying. "I stole Aurora's identity. I stole her life, her future... everything she should have been."
My fingers twist anxiously in the folds of my wedding dress, the beautiful fabric that should symbolize a fresh start now feeling like a shroud. The weight of seven years of lies presses down on me, making it hard to breathe.
"And my family..." My voice breaks completely. "They died because of me. They knew he wasn't good but I refused to believe them. It's all my fault."
Ruslan's hands tighten on my shoulders. The pressure isn't painful and it brings me back to the present when my mind wants to tumble back into that blood-soaked house.
"No," he says firmly. His voice is quiet but carries such conviction that my eyes flutter open. "No, Aurora. Kristofer killed your family. Not you."
I shake my head, desperate to make him understand. "But if I?—"
"Listen to me, Aurora." Ruslan's eyes flash with a fierce protectiveness. "You didn't kill anyone. You didn't spill their blood. You didn't write those words."
His thumbs brush gently over my cheeks, wiping away tears I didn't realize were still falling.
"Kristofer murdered them," he continues, his voice low and certain. "He made that choice. Not you."
Ruslan presses another gentle kiss to my forehead, and I close my eyes, savoring the connection. Here with him, I feel both terrifyingly exposed and completely safe at the same time. I've never shared my story with anyone besides Hannah, and even she doesn't know all the details. But Ruslan does. And somehow, impossibly, he's still here, still holding me.
"What would you like me to call you?" he asks softly, his breath warm against my skin.
The question catches me off guard. Such a simple thing, my own name, yet it carries the weight of everything I've been running from. I stare down at our intertwined hands, at the wedding ring glittering on my finger.
"I don't know," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "I've been Aurora for so long now, I sometimes forget..."
I trail off, unable to finish the thought. Jamie Fields feels like a ghost, a shadow of someone I used to be. Someone who died in that blood-soaked house in Kansas City seven years ago.
But Aurora Castellanos? The Aurora Castellanos that I became?
She was never really real either, was she?
But as I stare at our intertwined fingers—his tattooed hand holding mine so tenderly—I'm suddenly seeing things with newfound clarity.
Jamie Fields didn't run into Ruslan in that alleyway. Jamie Fields didn't hold Mikayla while she cried. Jamie Fields didn't stand up to Alexei and offer Eleonora that moment of solace.
And Jamie Fields certainly didn't choose to remain with Ruslan despite knowing the dangers of his world.
Aurora did.
"Aurora," I whisper, tasting the name on my tongue. It feels right in a way I never expected. "I'd like you to call me Aurora."
Ruslan's eyes soften, the gold in them warming like sunlight. His thumb traces circles on my wrist. "Aurora," he says, his accent caressing each syllable. "My beautiful Aurora."
He leans closer, his voice dropping to that intimate timbre that makes my pulse quicken. "My wife."
My heart skips at those words. Not just any words but a declaration. A promise made before all those people, a promise we both meant despite everything else happening around us.
"Say that again," I whisper, needing to hear it one more time.
His lips curve into a smile that's both tender and possessive. "My wife."
Then he's kissing me, soft and reverent at first. I melt against him, my hands sliding up to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The taste of him, familiar now yet still intoxicating, washes away the last of my doubts.
We sink to the floor together, a tangle of tears and sighs and wedding dress. His weight shifts over me, careful not to crush me beneath him. The kiss deepens, transforms from comfort to something hungrier. His hand slides beneath my veil, cradling my head, protecting me even from the hard floor beneath us.
"Aurora," he murmurs against my lips as his fingers start undoing the delicate buttons running down the back of my wedding dress.