33. Vera
VERA
The house is unnervingly quiet.
It’s not the peaceful kind, but the weighted silence of a house holding its breath.
I’m curled in a chair beside the bed, my hand wrapped around Roman’s. His skin is cool to the touch, but he’s breathing. It’s shallow, but steady. The rise and fall of his chest is a rhythm I’ve been watching for hours.
The first rays of dawn filter through the curtains, painting the room in soft shades of gold and pink.
Roman’s fingers twitch in his sleep, a slight fluttering against my palm. His face is pale, his brow furrowed even in unconsciousness.
Yelena said he’d be okay, that the wound was clean and he was young and strong enough to bounce back. I’ve seen too much death in my life to believe it until I see it.
I brush a stray lock of hair back from his forehead, my fingers lingering against his skin. He doesn’t stir, but I know he’s there. I know he’s fighting.
The door opens quietly, and Lev slips inside. His face is grim, his shoulders tight with tension. He moves to the foot of the bed, his gaze shifting from Roman’s still form to me and back again.
“How is he?” Lev asks, his voice low.
“Stable,” I say. “Yelena checked on him an hour ago. His fever’s down and his heart rate’s normal. She said that’s a good sign.”
“It is.” Lev nods, but there’s something in his expression that makes my stomach clench. “He’s strong. He’ll pull through.”
“But?”
“Konstantin has called an emergency council meeting for this morning.” Lev’s voice drops, his eyes flicking toward the door as if our enemies might be listening. “He’s calling it an emergency session to discuss the ‘tragic events at the mansion.’ It’s all bullshit if you ask me.”
My blood runs cold. “He’s going to use this to take control?”
“He’s going to try.” Lev’s expression is grim. “With Roman incapacitated, Anton gone, and you... well, with you being the only one who knows what really happened, he’s going to spin a narrative that serves his purposes.”
“What kind of narrative?”
“That Roman was reckless, and he escalated things unnecessarily. That his attack on Anton was an act of aggression, not self-defense. Even we have to admit that, with everything going on, it’s easy to believe Roman’s return kicked all of this off.”
I feel sick. “He wouldn’t.”
“He would,” Lev says simply. “He’d do whatever it takes to maintain control. Whatever it takes to protect himself and his position.”
The room starts to spin, the walls closing in around me. I can feel the panic rising, hot and suffocating. I’ve been here before. Three years of it with Dmitri, learning to read the signs, to know when the storm was coming.
“I need to get out of here,” I say, my voice tight. “I need some air.”
“Vera—”
“Just for a minute,” I say, already pushing myself out of the chair. “I won’t go far.”
I slip out of the room and down the hall, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floors. The safe house is quiet, the morning light soft and gentle, but I can feel the darkness gathering at the edges of my vision.
I find the bathroom at the end of the hall, slip inside, and lock the door behind me. The cool tile is a welcome relief to my flushed skin, but it’s not enough. The nausea is rising fast, burning its way up my throat.
I barely make it to the toilet before I’m sick. I heave until there’s nothing left, just dry-heaving, my stomach cramping with the effort.
I sink to the floor, leaning back into the tiled wall. I wrap my arms around my knees, resting my forehead on them and trying to breathe through the waves of dizziness.
This is what it’s come to. This is what my life is now. I thought marrying Roman would change things. I thought choosing him, choosing us, would give me some measure of peace.
Now I have more to lose. Not just my own life, but Roman’s. Not just my own future, but our child’s.
The thought of the baby sends a fresh wave of nausea through me. I press my hand to my stomach, as if I can somehow protect this tiny life growing inside me.
I’m so tired. So tired of being strong, so tired of fighting. I just want it to stop. I just want to be able to breathe without feeling like I’m drowning.
I push myself up from the floor, my legs shaking. I make it to the sink, turn on the water, and splash cool water on my face. It helps, a little. The nausea recedes, the dizziness fading to a manageable hum.
I look at my reflection in the mirror. My face is pale, my eyes wide with a fear I can’t hide. But somewhere in there, I see resolve too.
This is my time to protect Roman. This is my time to step up. He’s been protecting me since the moment he walked into my life, putting himself between me and danger, taking the hits meant for me. Now it’s my turn. Now I’m the one who needs to be strong.
I straighten up, square my shoulders, and take a deep breath. It’s time.
When I return to the bedroom, Lev is still there. He looks at me, and something in his eyes softens.
“You’re going to be okay,” he says. “You’re stronger than you think.”
“I have to be,” I say simply.
I move back to the chair beside the bed, my hand finding Roman’s again. His breathing is still shallow, but he’s here. He’s alive, and that’s what matters.
The door opens again, and this time it’s Yelena who enters. She’s carrying a tray with a bowl of water and some clean cloths, her expression professional but not unkind.
“How is he?” she asks, her voice low.
“Stable,” I say. “No change.”
“That’s good.” She sets the tray down on the nightstand and begins to check his vitals. “The fever’s still down. Heart rate’s steady. That’s a very good sign.”
“Can he hear us?”
“Possibly,” she says. “Unconscious people can sometimes hear what’s going on around them. It’s not uncommon for them to remember conversations later.”
I nod, my hand tightening around Roman’s. “Then I have something to say to him.”
Yelena looks at me. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
She slips out as quietly as she came, leaving me with Roman. I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts, trying to find the words I need to say.
“Roman.” His name comes out too small for what I feel. I try again. “Roman. I don’t know if you can hear me. But I’m not going anywhere. Whatever it takes to bring you back, I’ll pay it.”
I lean forward, my elbows on my knees and my eyes fixed on his face.
“You promised me once that you’d protect me, that you’d protect our child.
” My hand finds my stomach without asking.
“You never thought you’d be the one who needed protecting.
So let me be clear, since you can’t argue—I’m going to protect our family now. Whatever it costs.”
The door clicks softly again, and it takes me a second to realize Lev has left, too. I’d been so focused on Roman, I’d forgotten Lev was still there.
I take a shaky breath. “Three years I’ve been afraid, Roman. Three years letting other people make decisions for me, letting other people dictate my life. That’s over now. I’m done being afraid. I’m done being a victim.” I shake my head. “That girl doesn’t exist anymore.”
I lace my fingers through his. “We’re going to get through this. We’re going to have this baby, and we’re going to build a life together. A real life, not this... this darkness that’s been chasing us.”
I can feel the tears welling up, but I blink them back. I won’t cry. Not when I need to be strong.
“Konstantin thinks he can use this to his advantage,” I say, my voice hardening. “He thinks he can use your injuries to take control and spin a narrative that serves his purposes. He’s wrong. I’m not going to let him. I’m not going to let him hurt you, or our family, ever again.”
I lean over and press my mouth to his forehead, holding it there longer than I should, breathing him in. “You rest now. When you wake up, we’ll face whatever comes next together.”
The door eases open. Lev’s face appears in the gap. “Vera?”
“I’m alright,” I say. And for the first time, I think I might actually mean it.
He nods, but the worry stays in his eyes. “We need to talk about Konstantin.”
“I know.”
“Soon.”
“I know that too.” I look back at Roman, at the steady rise and fall of his chest, each breath holding a piece of me with it. “Just give me this. A little longer.”
Lev hesitates in the doorway, then something in his shoulders loosens. “You’re right. It’ll keep a few hours. Be with him. You’ll need to be strong while he recovers.”
“I will be.” My hand finds his again. “I already am.”
The morning passes in a blur of quiet activity. Yelena checks on Roman regularly, her expression growing more optimistic each time.
I stay by Roman’s side, my hand never leaving his. I talk to him sometimes, telling him about the baby, about our future. I don’t know if he can hear me, but it feels important to say the words out loud, to give them shape and substance in the world.
Around noon, Roman stirs.
His eyelids flutter, his fingers twitching in my hand.
I lean forward. “Roman?” I say, my voice soft. “Can you hear me? It’s Vera. I’m right here.”
His eyes open slowly, struggling to focus. They’re cloudy with pain and confusion, but they focus on me after a moment and a small, tired smile touches his lips.
“Vera,” he says, his voice rough, hoarse. “How long was I out?”
“Since last night,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “Almost a day. You scared the hell out of me.”
He tries to sit up, but a sharp intake of breath stops him. His hand goes to his side. “That’s... not going to be fun to heal.”
“You’ll heal,” I say. “Just try not to re-open the stitches.”
He looks at me, brows furrowed. “The baby,” he says. “Is the baby...?”
“The baby’s fine.” My hand goes to my stomach. “Yelena checked. Everything looks good.”
Relief floods his features, softening the lines of pain and exhaustion. “Thank God,” he breathes. “I’m sorry for putting you in danger again.”
“You didn’t,” I say. “Anton did, and now he’s gone.”
“Gone.” He says the word like it’s foreign to him, like he’s not sure he knows how to use it anymore. “Good fucking riddance.”
My heart aches for him, for the boy he was and the man he’s become. Even so, I have to hide a laugh behind my palm. We meet eyes for a second, and Roman grins.
It doesn’t last long, though. There’s something we need to discuss first. “Listen, we need to talk about Konstantin.”
His eyes search mine, looking for something he can’t quite find. “What about him?”
I hesitate, not wanting to burden him with this when he’s already so weak. Except he deserves the truth.
“He’s called an emergency council meeting. Lev thinks he’s going to try to spin a narrative that you were the aggressor.”
A bitter laugh escapes Roman’s lips, but it turns into a cough that makes him clutch his side in pain. “Of course he is.”
“Lev thinks he’ll try to use this to take control,” I continue, my voice low. “With you incapacitated and Anton gone, he sees an opening.”
“Let him try,” Roman says, but there’s no real fire in his words. He’s too tired. “He’ll find out I’m not as easy to get rid of as Dmitri was.”
“Don’t say that,” I say, my voice sharp. “You’re basically asking for bad luck.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, his eyes drifting closed as if the effort of keeping them open is too much.
When he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper. “I never thought I’d have this. You or a baby. A life that’s not just about survival.”
“You have it,” I say, my thumb stroking the back of his hand. “I’m not going to let anyone take it away from us.”
“You sound so sure,” he says, but there’s wonder in his voice, not doubt.
“I am sure.”
He opens his eyes and watches me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he squeezes my hand.
“Good,” he says. “Good luck to anybody who tries to get between us.”