Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Ilya
One second he was right next to me, the light of my life and my entire reason for living, and the next he was gone. My hand, which had just gripped his tiny one, was suddenly empty.
Panic gripped me, twisting around me like a metal band so tightly that I couldn’t breathe.
All I’d done was take my attention from him for a second to stare down at my grandfather's headstone.
A million thoughts and feelings were rushing through my head because, on one hand, the old man had molded me into the man I was today—respected and brutal, and I had to be thankful for that—and on the other hand, I hated him for it.
My grandfather had always been cold, and I had always vowed not to be like that with Alec.
A second of being deep in thought, and the next second he had just disappeared.
"Alexander." I whispered his name at first, turning in a tight circle and knocking over the crystal vase of roses I had just laid on my grandfather's grave. The bouquet was expensive, but I didn’t give it a second thought as I scanned my surroundings.
How the hell could he just disappear? My fingers itched to pull out my phone and call for backup, but I’d done that once before, and he had been in the cereal aisle, looking for the toys at the bottom of the box.
The men had looked at me like I was crazy for days afterwards. Like I was losing the damn plot.
Which I was, because my son was nowhere to be seen.
"Alexander?" I called out louder this time, my voice echoing through the emptiness. I had to shout because my heart was beating so loudly I could barely hear myself think. "Alec, where are you?"
To the left of me, a group of solemn mourners threw me dirty looks, muttering under their breath about my rudeness. I ignored them completely. What did I care what they thought about me when Alexander was missing?
Again, I surveyed the almost empty graveyard.
Deep down, I knew he had just wandered off.
But I couldn’t help but think how easy it would have been to take him.
I had a lot of enemies, and every one of them knew that taking my son would cripple me.
All they had to do was snatch him away from me, like every other person I had ever loved had been snatched away.
At my sides, my hands clenched into fists. My nails cut little crescents into my skin.
Something swept over the back of my neck, a chill, and I lifted my hand to rub at it. Without meaning to, I turned in the direction of another man’s grave that I knew was close by.
I don’t know what made me look in that direction.
It wasn’t like Alexander knew his other grandfather was buried here.
He didn’t know anything about his birth mother's family. I had told him as gently as I could that they were in heaven with the Almighty Father—not that he understood, but he’d stopped asking questions.
Sometimes it amazed me how clever he was. Something he got from Daisy.
I’d even gone to her father's funeral. I’d stood at the back in the copse of trees and watched the mourners pay their respects, but part of me had half expected her to appear. Even though I knew she was gone.
When she didn’t, I’d finally laid her to rest in my mind. Daisy had always loved her father. If she had been alive, then she would have been there.
I shook the thought away as movement in the distance caught my eye. Right in the direction of his simple grave.
"Alexander." My heart stuttered as I strode across the wet grass, my polished shoes getting splattered with mud with every step. "Alexander," I called again, coming closer.
It was definitely him. I recognized the tear-streaked face over the dainty woman’s shoulder and let out a sigh of relief. "You shouldn’t run off like that, you should—"
The woman’s back stiffened. It was like an electric shock had zapped through her. She snapped up so quickly that the knee-length black wool coat lifted to show shapely legs.
"Papa."
"You can’t run off like that," I began to say, but the words lodged themselves in my throat as the woman turned.
Recognition flared through me, instant and burning hot.
It couldn’t be.
It couldn’t be, but it was.
Daisy.
She had changed, but was so instantly recognizable that I had to fight back the memories that suddenly flooded me.
Images of her laughing under me, her face young and carefree. And then the absolute terror on her tear-streaked face as they wheeled her off to surgery, her hand holding mine until the last moment.
She was more mature now, not the girl she had been. The weight of life had been kind to her; she was just as beautiful as before, but she had matured. From her face to her slicked-back blonde hair, to the clothes on her body.
She looked good.
But she was a ghost.
A ghost that was holding my child. The child she had clearly abandoned if she was standing in front of me.
Rage filled me in a rush.
White-hot and murderous. The fists at my sides shook with it. I watched as her face paled. Saw her throat work as she tried to swallow.
She looked terrified.
Slowly, keeping her eyes locked on mine, she dropped Alexander to his feet.
"Go to your Dad—" Her voice faltered as Alexander came rushing towards me, and she straightened. Her hands convulsed at her sides. I flicked my eyes to them.
And I still didn’t greet her. What was one meant to say to a woman who you had grieved over? She was meant to be dead.
I had fucking cried over her. And the entire time she was living her life without me. Free as a bird.
The rage in my chest tightened. All the fear I had been feeling just a few seconds ago flowed into it until it grew into something uncontrollable.
I was going to hurt her. I was going to repay all the pain she had caused me six years ago.
"Ow, Papa." Too late, I realized I had squeezed Alexander’s hand too tightly, and I loosened my grip. No matter what happened now, I would not allow Alexander to see me lose my temper. To him, I was just his papa; I wasn’t the feared monster that I was to everyone else.
"Let’s get you back to the car." Swinging him up in my arms, I turned towards the car. Leaving was the best thing to do. It was the mature thing to do.
But could I do it?
I wanted answers, and there was only one person alive who could give them to me.
"Stay there," I ordered over my shoulder. Across the grass, I saw one of my men come towards me. His face was a mask of shock as he saw Daisy standing there.
"What the hell?"
I didn’t answer him. "Take Alexander home." I bundled my son into his arms. "Do not leave his side."
His eyes were still over my shoulder, but he nodded. "Did you know?"
I shook my head silently. "I’m going to get answers."
I waited for three seconds before I turned, because I didn’t want Alexander to see what would happen next.
I never wanted him to see that side of me.
Again, my eyes clashed with hers across the grass. She had stayed, but then again, she had always followed orders so easily.
That all changed the second I took a single step back towards her. Her face went grey. Spinning on her heel, she launched herself away. No doubt heading towards the other side of the cemetery, and the busy road beyond. She would lose me if she got there, or so she probably thought.
But Daisy wasn’t the only one who had changed in the last six years. This city belonged to me. Now I knew she was alive, there was nowhere she could hide where I wouldn’t find her.
And punish her.
I took off across the well-kept graves, ignoring the fact that I was splattering mud and grass up my legs.
Daisy was fast, and she had a head start on her side, but she couldn’t outrun me. Even if she got away, she would never outrun me now.
Every step I took filled me with more rage.
She. Had. Left. Us.
Slipping between the high walls of the marble mausoleums, I caught sight of her blonde hair as she tried to hide from me and changed direction.
Two steps, and I came out right in front of her. Skidding to a stop, Daisy threw her hands out, but not quick enough for me. Lashing out, I closed my hand around her throat and shoved her backwards against the wall with enough force to knock the breath out of her lungs. She yelped.
Her eyes widened into saucers, the fear in them palpable. I basked in it. I wanted her to be afraid. I had never wanted anything more.
"You." My fingers flexed around her throat, cutting off her air with every word. "Are meant to be dead."
"P-please."
"Shut up," I bellowed, squeezing her throat so hard that she couldn’t speak at all. Both her hands came up to scratch at the back of my hand, trying to get me to loosen my grip enough that she could at least breathe.
Her face went red and then purple, and the hands clawing at me grew weaker and weaker. I looked into her eyes and saw fear and acceptance.
I let go of her throat. And sucked in a breath.
Why did she have to look at me like that?
She looked at me and accepted her fate. That I would kill her.
Daisy deserved death for what she had put me through.
But how could I do that to my son? How could I look at him knowing I had killed his mother, even if he didn’t know her?
She dropped to her knees. "Ilya." Her voice was raspy. Her throat was clearly sore after being squeezed so hard. "Let me—"
"No." Looming over her, I shook my head. "There is nothing you can say or do to explain what you did, Daisy." My voice dropped to a low, menacing whisper.
She lifted tear-filled eyes to me, her hand rubbing her throat. "You don’t understand."
I would never understand her leaving us to grieve her like she was dead, and I would never forgive her either.
I rolled my eyes. "You’re right, I don’t understand. Get up."
She didn’t move.
Grumbling under my breath, I heaved her up by the arm. "We are going somewhere—" My eyes roved over her trembling form. "Quieter, so we can talk."
She shook her head, tendrils of strawberry-blonde hair falling free of the knot to frame her face. It made her look younger. More like the girl I had lost.
"No."
The strength in her voice shocked me.
"I’m not going anywhere with you, Ilya. If you want to kill me, then you can do it here."
Defiantly, she lifted her chin. She was trying to be brave, and I respected that, but the quivering of her bottom lip gave her away.
For ten whole seconds, I just looked at her, and then I smiled.
"Okay." Moving so quickly that she barely had time to struggle, I flipped her around, and my arm went around her throat, my biceps bulging as I blocked her airway.
It didn’t take long before her knees buckled and she lost consciousness.
I let her drop, swinging her into my arms before she hit the ground. I walked back towards my car without looking back.
Leaving her shoes lying on the grass.
She wouldn’t be needing them where she was going.