34. Roman
ROMAN
Pain drags me awake. Every muscle in my body aches, a bone-deep throb radiating from the wound in my side.
The pain medication Yelena gave me has worn off, leaving me raw and exposed to the full extent of my injuries.
Yelena moves with efficient grace, her hands gentle but firm as she changes the bandages on my side. The wound is angry and red, the stitches neat but brutal-looking against my skin.
“You’re healing well,” she says. “No signs of infection. That’s the good news, but we’ll put you on antibiotics to be safe.”
I know there’s bad news coming. I can see it in the way she avoids my eyes, in the slight hesitation before she speaks.
“The bad news?” I ask, my voice rough from disuse.
“The council meeting is in an hour,” she says, her voice careful. “Lev thinks you should stay here. Rest, let someone else handle it.”
I push myself up, ignoring the searing pain that shoots through my side. “No. I’m going.”
“Roman, you can’t even stand up straight,” she says, her voice sharp. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere, let alone face down a room full of wolves.”
“I’ll stand if I have to,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m not letting Konstantin take control. I have the ledger, proof of illegal trafficking, proof that Dmitri framed me and Konstantin knew.”
She presses a hand to my chest, trying to push me back down against the pillows. “The proof will still be there when you’re healed. Right now, you need to focus on recovery.”
“Recovery,” I say, my voice ice cold. “That’s the least of my concerns.”
“Be smart about this, Roman,” she snaps. “Let Vera go in your place. It will show them that you trust her to handle things when you can’t.”
I look past her, to where Vera is standing by the window. She has her back to me, her shoulders tense. She’s been quiet this morning, withdrawn into herself as she processes everything that’s happened.
“She’s not ready for this,” I say, my voice softer now. “She’s been through enough. I’m not putting her in the middle of this.”
“She’s already in the middle of this,” Yelena says. “Besides, she’s stronger than you think. She’s proven that time and time again.”
I watch her, my heart aching. I want to protect her, to shield her from the ugliness of this world, but I know I can’t. Not anymore. Not when she’s proven herself to be more than capable of handling whatever comes her way.
I try to swing my legs over the side of the bed.
“No,” Yelena says, her voice sharp. “You’ll stay here, and you’ll heal. You’ll trust her to do what needs to be done, just like she’s trusting you to be here when she gets back.”
I sink back against the pillows, defeated. The pain is a constant presence, but it’s nothing compared to the helplessness I feel right now.
“She’ll be careful,” Yelena says, her voice softening. “She’s not going to take any unnecessary risks. Lev will be with her every step of the way.”
I nod, but I’m not happy about it. I’m not happy about any of this.
“You need to trust her, Roman,” she says, her voice gentle. “You need to trust that she can handle this.”
I look at Vera, at the set of her shoulders, at the strength in her stance. I know Yelena is right. Maybe I need to let her do this, to prove to herself and to everyone else that she’s not the fragile, broken girl I met at the cemetery.
“Fine,” I say, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. “You can go. But not without me.”
Vera’s shoulders, which were squared with resolve, slump slightly. She turns from the window, her eyes finding mine. There’s a fire in them that I’ve come to adore.
“No,” she says, her voice firm. “You’re not going anywhere. Stay here and heal.”
“I’m not letting you walk into that room alone,” I say, pushing myself up again. I ignore the searing protest of my body. “Not to face them without backup.”
“Backup?” A small, bitter laugh escapes her lips. “Roman, you can barely stand. You’re in no condition to be anyone’s backup.”
“I don’t need to be at full strength,” I say, my voice hardening. “I just need to be there.”
Yelena is watching us with barely concealed amusement, though she ducks her head and pretends to busy herself with her medical bag.
Vera crosses the space between us, looming over the bed. “I’m not just some damsel in distress you need to protect. I’m your wife. I’m the mother of your child, and I’m tired of being treated like I’m made of glass.”
“I don’t treat you like you’re made of glass,” I protest, but it sounds weak even to me.
“Don’t you?” Her voice rises, her hands gesturing wildly. “You act like I’m going to break if I look at the world wrong.”
“Because I love you,” I say, the words ripped from me. “I’ve already lost too much, and I refuse to lose you, too.”
Her anger deflates. “I know,” she says, her voice softer. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too; but I can’t live like this, Roman. I have to be able to stand on my own two feet, even with you beside me.”
I look at her. I see the strength in her, the resilience. I see the woman who survived three years with Dmitri, who faced down Anton and Konstantin without flinching. I see the mother of my child, the woman I love more than life itself.
She’s right. I’ve been treating her like something fragile, something to be protected, when what I should have been doing is treating her like an equal.
“Okay,” I say, the word tasting different this time. “Okay, fine. You can take the lead.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for the catch. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” I say, a small smile touching my lips. “But I stay close. If things go wrong, if you’re in danger, I’m stepping in. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
She considers it for a moment, her head tilted to the side. “What about your injuries?”
“I’ll sit in the back,” I say. “I’ll be your shadow. No one will even know I’m there until I need them to.”
She watches me in silence, giving nothing away. Then she nods, and I see the moment she gives in. “Alright,” she says. “You can come, but you let me handle it. Agreed?”
“Agreed. If you so much as hesitate, if I even think you’re in trouble, all bets are off.”
“Fair enough,” she says, a small smile touching her lips. “Now, are you going to get ready, or are you going to lie here and look pathetic while I go save the world?”
I laugh, but it turns into a cough that makes my side ache. “Help me up,” I say, holding out my hand.
She takes it, her fingers lacing through mine. I let her help me to my feet, my arm draped over her shoulders for support. The pain is bad, but it’s manageable with her beside me.
“I love you,” I say, my voice rough.
“I love you too,” she says.
I duck down to press a searing kiss to her lips, and she meets me in kind. Her mouth parts and I moan, tongue swiping across her lower lip.
Then Vera pulls back with a laugh. “Later,” she promises. “First, let’s deal with Konstantin.”
Every step sends a fresh wave of agony through my side, but I force it down, burying it beneath the cold fire of my determination. I will not be seen as broken. I will not be seen as vulnerable.
Vera walks beside me. She’s dressed for battle today, in a dark suit that hugs her curves. She looks every bit the Volkonsky wife, every bit the leader she’s becoming.
Lev walks on my other side, his hand resting near his jacket. He’s been with me through everything.
“You ready for this?” Lev asks, his voice low.
I nod, my jaw tight. “Bring it on.”
Vera’s hand finds mine, her fingers lacing through mine. We walk in, and every head turns to face us. The elders are already seated, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright hostility.
I take a seat at the head of the table, Vera beside me. Lev stands behind me and doesn’t utter a word.
Konstantin sits at the opposite end, his face carefully composed. Except I see the flicker of triumph in his eyes, the smug satisfaction of a predator who believes his prey is cornered.
“Roman,” he says, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “I’m so glad you could join us. Though I must say, you look... unwell.”
“I’m fine,” I say, my voice flat. “Thank you for your concern.”
“Of course.” His smile thins. “Family is everything. You know that.”
Family is everything. The phrase that built me. For most of my life it was a skeleton key, opening every locked door in this house—every cruelty filed neatly behind three warm words. He offers them now like a gift. He’s forgotten I know exactly what they cost.
Before I can respond, Vera stands. The room falls silent.
“We have something to show you,” she says.
She places the ledger on the table and leaves it closed. Konstantin’s eyes drop immediately to the leather cover. Only for a second. But I see it, and so does Vera.
“You know what this is,” she says.
He leans back, unbothered. “I know an old book when I see one.”
“Mm. Interesting.” She slides it toward the center of the table. “You went pale over something you don’t recognize.”
Across the table, Pavel’s gaze sharpens.
Konstantin smiles. “Dramatics do not become you, Vera.”
“Neither does lying, apparently.”
A murmur moves through the elders. Pavel reaches for the ledger before Vera can, and I let him. They’ll believe one of their own before they believe my wife.
Pavel opens the cover and begins turning pages. His expression doesn’t change at first. Then his brow furrows, and the elder beside him leans in to look.
“What is this?” he asks.
“That,” Vera says, “is Dmitri’s private record of his operations.”
Konstantin gives a dismissive laugh. “My dead son’s handwriting in an old book proves nothing.”
“Then let’s not rely on his handwriting.
” Vera places a thin stack of documents beside the ledger: bank records, shipping manifests, the financial files we pulled from Dmitri’s study.
Not accusations. Corroboration. “The dates in the ledger match the transfers in those accounts. The amounts match. The shipping numbers match manifests Roman recovered weeks ago.”
One of the elders looks up sharply. “Shipments of what?”
Vera’s jaw tightens. She doesn’t answer.