26. Rose
Rose
"Sergei, please, just listen to me," I plead with him, doing my best to coax some kind of understanding from this man. But as he stares back at me, I know it’s already a lost cause. He has made up his mind about what he wants from me, and he’s unwilling to settle for anything less.
The most I can hope for is that I get out of here alive, but with every passing second, that’s looking less and less likely.
"I’ll drive you to the clinic right now," he tells me, his voice low, his hand still resting on his gun. "And we can get this dealt with. Before anyone has to find out."
"I can’t do that," I whisper, my hands resting on my belly as I stare down at my barely visible baby bump. The thought of letting harm come to this child burns so deep inside me that I can’t stand it, a motherly instinct taking me over.
I have to protect this child. That’s what they are relying on me for, and if I fail them, I will never forgive myself.
"You really want your child to be part of this world?" he asks me, gesturing around him as though this is the worst place I could possibly be. "Spare them that. Leave him and start over somewhere else, where you can have a family that won’t be involved in this world. In this kind of danger."
His tone is laced with a sharp edge that is clearly meant to terrify me, and on some level, it does.
Because I know that he’s right, that if I bring my child into this world, they will be part of the existence that has led me here.
As much as Ilya has done to protect me, there was betrayal in his own damn home, and I don’t know if he can really expect to keep me or his child safe in the face of such danger.
Will he even believe me when I tell him what Sergei has done? It seems impossible. They have worked together for decades now, and Ilya trusts him more deeply than anyone else. If I go to him, come entirely clean, will he take me for a liar?
I have no idea, and frankly, I don’t want to find out.
"If it’s so bad," I reply, keeping my voice as steady as I can, "why do you want your son to be part of it?"
His face twists in fury, though he must know I have a point. He raises his gun, all pretense of control forgotten, and closes the distance between us, stalking towards me with a furious expression and sending me rushing back towards the wall behind me.
"You don’t know what he’s capable of," he spits at me, and he presses the gun into my belly, the cold metal digging into my skin. I freeze. One wrong move, and a bullet cuts through me and my child in a single motion. The world narrows to the sensation in my gut, that helpless need to protect the baby inside me and the knowledge that there’s nothing I can do to stop him if he decides he wants this to be over.
As much as he tried to convince me and wheedle me into giving him what he wanted, he’s not willing to let me deny him what he so clearly believes is his right, and I don’t know what chance I stand of keeping him from taking me out.
But then, all of a sudden, I hear a scuffling sound outside the apartment. For a moment, I think that it must be the landlord, coming by to demand what I’m doing in this apartment. Perhaps Becky raised the alarm, something to try to save me.
But instead, the door flies open beside me, and I find myself staring at Ilya.
"Ilya...?”
I have no idea what he’s doing here, how he even found out that this was where I went. Silence fills the room for a moment, and Sergei pulls the gun away from my belly, as though he has a chance in hell of convincing this man that he was not about to destroy everything.
"Pakhan," he greets Ilya as if this is just some regular meeting, letting his gun drop to his side. "I can explain—"
But before he can get the words out, Ilya pulls a gun from a holster at his side, raises it, and fires off three shots—two into Sergei’s chest, and one that lands right between his eyes.
Sergei staggers back for a moment, his expression slack with shock, and reaches up to touch the hole in his forehead.
When he pulls his hand away, it is slick with his own blood.
My heartbeat pulses in my ears. I have never seen death like this, and the reality of it burns so deep in my chest, I feel like I might throw up.
Sergei drops to his knees and tumbles to the side, his body devoid of life. The gun clatters out of his hand, and I jump, hands flying to my face.
"Rose," Ilya growls as he moves before me, tucking his gun back into its holster. "Are you hurt? You, the baby?"
I shake my head, his insistent tone pulling me back into the present. "No," I whisper. "No, we’re... we’re okay..."
And that seems to be all he needed to hear.
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into an embrace so tight, it feels like he may never let me go.
I press my face into his shoulder, trying to assure myself that I am really, truly okay.
That I am safe, that I am alive, that nothing has happened to my child or me.
I came so close to losing it all, it feels almost impossible for everything to be okay, but it is.
At least, I think so.
When Ilya pulls back, he cups my face in his hands, utterly ignoring the corpse of his one-time second-in-command on the floor behind us.
I don’t know what I expected when I saw Ilya, but I imagined that he would at least hear Sergei out, try to get an explanation for everything that’s happened here.
But he didn’t even think twice, didn’t even want to.
As soon as he saw me in danger, he kept me safe, and it didn’t even matter to him that the man paying the price was one who had been at his side for so long.
"Thank God," he mutters as he presses a kiss against my forehead. I can smell the metallic tang of blood in the air, and I force myself to look back at Sergei’s body behind me.
I have never seen anything like it before, at least not in such stark detail, but it feels...
almost comforting, to know that Ilya would go to such lengths to protect me.
"Come on," he tells me, slipping his hand into mine. "I’ll send some of my men by to clean this place up. Nobody’s going to find out what happened here, you have my word on that."
"Right," I mumble as I follow him down the stairs, my legs still shaky and my ears still ringing from the sound of the shots he put into Sergei’s chest and head. Does he even know what Sergei had been planning? I suppose I should fill him in... or maybe he knows already, and that’s why he was so quick to take him out the first chance he got.
He guides me to the car with the utmost care, clipping on my seatbelt and resting his hand on my thigh as we make our way back towards the mansion.
He does not loosen his grip on me the entire time, as though making certain that I’m not going anywhere, and by the time I find it in myself to speak, we are only a few minutes from home.
"I... he told me that he had a son," I tell him softly, the words hitching at the back of my throat even as I force them out. I feel like I’m going to throw up as the memories of what just happened begin to sink in.
How close I came to losing my child, losing my life, losing everything.
It seemed so surreal when it was happening in the moment, but now I can feel the creeping, horrible dread starting to take hold of me.
My hand flies to my mouth, and I let out a sob. Ilya looks over at me, concern written all over his face.
"Hey, you’re safe now," he promises me, tightening his grip on my leg, but it does little to stem the fear that’s only just beginning to spill over.
"I know he has a son. I found a picture of him in Sergei’s room.
No idea where he is now, but my men are looking for him.
He’ll be secured soon enough, won’t be able to get anywhere near us.
Shit, when he finds out what happened to his dad, he might think better of it all, make a run for it as soon as he can. "
I nod, trying to gather myself, though it feels like a cold, clammy hand has closed around my heart. A man is dead because of me, and I can’t shake the enormity of that, what it means that he died for my child and me to live.
Ilya pulls over just outside the mansion, and the engine falls silent.
"Rose."
I feel tears dripping down my cheeks, unable to so much as turn to face him.
"Rose, look at me."
I finally manage to do as he asks, locking eyes with him through a blur of tears.
"What did he say to you?”
"He said..." I search for the language to put this in a way that will not force me to face up to the brutal truth of what that man nearly did to my child and me.
“He said that I should get rid of the baby,” I choke out. “Because he knew that you would take them as your heir, and he wanted his son to have that role. Said that he had been training him his entire life to be ready for it, and he..."
I trail off again. God, all of this feels so fucking surreal, the weight of it squeezing me like it might crush me at any moment.
"He threatened me and the baby," I admit. "He was going to..."
I feel the tears swell inside me once more, and Ilya reaches over to pull me into his arms, locking them around me as if telling me there’s nothing in the world he won’t do if it means he can keep me safe.
I weep into his shoulder, clinging to him for dear life.
I can see now that everything he tried to protect me from, all the harm that he imagined coming my way if I were ever to slip out from under his control…
it’s out there, it’s real. And he’s the only person who can protect me from it, as hard as that is to admit.
The only person who will take my side, no matter what.
The only person who has my back against anything that might come my way.
I lift my head, sniffling, and look at him once more. "You believe me, right?"
He stares at me for a moment. "What are you talking about?"
"You believe that he said all of that to me?” I ask. "I know how much you trusted him, how long you worked with him—"
"He threatened you," he replies tersely. "Nobody gets to do that and live. When it comes to you, and my child."
He lays a hand on my belly, as though he can almost imagine the baby listening to this conversation.
"There’s no second thoughts."
His words are so certain, I can’t doubt them. I lean forward, letting my head rest against his. I know we need to get back to the mansion, but right now all I can think about is how much I want to stay here with him, in this moment, in this certainty that he has my back, no matter what.
But eventually, he reaches for the wheel again and drives the last few minutes back to the mansion.
His men are clustered at the door, waiting for his arrival, and I wonder if any of them already know about what has happened.
If what he’s said is true, a few of them have been sent out to deal with the matter of Sergei’s son, though I’m sure there are still plenty more questions than answers.
"Out of my way," Ilya orders them as he guides me through the door, an arm locked firmly around my waist. I cling to him for dear life, the one thing that makes sense in this mess of a world, the one thing I know I can trust. This man, despite it all, despite everything that he has worked to become, will protect me and my child above all else, and I don’t have it in me any longer to push against the boundaries he placed on me for so long. Not when I know now why they are there.
We reach my quarters, and I slip my hand into his, lacing our fingers as I hold him tight.
"Will you stay with me?" I ask him softly, and a furrow appears between his brows.
"I’d love to," he replies. "But I need to clean up the mess Sergei made."
I lower my head, but I know he’s right. I can’t imagine how many pieces he will need to put back together, how that man he trusted for so long has shattered so much of his organization.
It’s selfish of me to want him to stick around here for a little longer, just because I can’t stand to be alone right now.
"I’ll send some guards down," he says, squeezing my hand a little tighter.
"You don’t need to do that."
He stares at me for a moment. "What?"
"You don’t need to send guards down to watch me anymore," I tell him, a small smile tugging at my lips. "I’m not going anywhere, Ilya. Not now. Not ever."
At first, I think that he doesn’t believe a word. But then, to my surprise, a grin spreads across his face. One that, despite everything, looks about as genuine as I could have hoped for.
"Thank you, Rose," he replies, and it sounds like he truly means it. I can tell that this man is not entirely used to expressing his gratitude, but then he’s not exactly used to being betrayed by the people closest to him, either.
No, what matters is that things have changed between us, this mess drawing out something new neither of us could have imagined before.
And that, in the midst of it all, he has my back.
And I intend to prove that I have his.
He kisses me one last time before he turns to head back to the car, no doubt already thinking of everything he needs to take care of.
As I watch him go, I find myself already aching to have him back.
I know that what has happened today is not going to be forgotten easily, but frankly, I don’t want it to be.
The pain, the suffering, the fear, that will fade.
And what remains is the promise that he is always on my side. And that nothing will change that.
And that nothing could.