Chapter 17
VIKTOR
The new safe house sits behind a row of manicured hedges. People who live here care only about their property values. It would never occur to them to worry about war breaking out on their streets.
Dyker Heights has always had that kind of energy with its quiet streets, large houses, and neighbors who would call the cops on any unfamiliar cars. The neighborhood itself is a layer of security, which is why I’m glad Sergei suggested it.
I should feel relief when the property gate closes behind us, but I don’t. Relief would mean the worst is behind us. I fear the worst is still yet to come.
I watch the rearview mirror as we roll up the drive and I don’t stop watching until the SUV is fully inside the garage and the door is down. Even then, I can’t relax. Because now there’s much more at stake than just Anya’s safety. Now my child is at risk.
Anya sleeps for the whole drive. I don’t blame her, I know her body needs rest after what she’s been through. Still, I can’t help but wonder if she isn’t just trying to avoid talking to me.
The doctor gave her something for pain, but the pregnancy means she can’t take anything too strong.
It’ll be an awful few weeks as she recovers, but the petty part of me thinks she deserves it.
She lied to me. She kept our child a secret from me and still chose to move me out of the way of that bullet, knowing she wasn’t just risking her own safety.
I try to push those feelings down for now. I need to focus on keeping them both safe, since it’s clearly not her first priority.
I gently wake her so we can go into the house. She winces and looks at me groggily.
“Are we here?” she asks in a husky voice.
“We are,” I confirm. “Are you okay to get out, or do you need me to help you?”
“I’m fine,” she snaps immediately, but I can tell she regrets it as soon as she moves.
“Here,” I say, gently wrapping my arm around her waist, careful not to make contact with her ribs. She leans against me, probably too tired to argue.
When we get into the house, the nurse from the clinic is already waiting for us. I had Sergei offer to pay her handsomely to stay to monitor Anya as she continues to recover.
Around us, guards begin their sweep of the house.
Two sweep the ground floor. Two check windows.
One checks the cameras. Another pulls up the interior feed on the monitor wall built into what used to be a den.
The house is already wired and reinforced.
This was always meant to be a fallback location, which means the infrastructure is there.
Cameras cover the exterior lines. Windows are reinforced.
Doors have steel frames behind decorative trim so it still looks like a rich family’s home.
Sergei steps inside behind me, phone already pressed to his ear. He’s barking instructions to someone on the docks. He pauses long enough to see Anya leaning on me and his face tightens for half a second.
“How you doing, champ?” he asks her quietly.
“I feel like a million bucks,” she answers with a wince.
“And the baby?” he presses.
I can’t see the look on her face, but I feel her tense under my touch. She’s still not used to having this news public.
“The baby is stable,” I answer for her. “That’s the only thing that matters right now.”
Sergei nods once and turns back to his call, voice dropping lower. He’s telling someone to reroute a shipment, pull cameras, and find out who talked. He sounds like a man trying to hold together a collapsing structure with rope.
He has to run everything because I dragged us into this. I should feel guilty about it, but I can’t make myself. Especially now that there’s a baby involved.
I help Anya upstairs, but I have to carry her the last stretch when her breathing becomes too labored. She doesn’t ask for help, of course, but she doesn’t need to. It’s my job now to anticipate her needs.
I’ve had a room on the second floor prepared for her. It has a large window that looks out over the back garden, and a spacious enough room that the nurse can maneuver around her as much as she needs to. The bed is already made, sheets clean, and pillows arranged.
I set her down carefully and watch her face for any sign that I am hurting her.
Her skin is pale. Her lashes rest against her cheeks. There’s bruising forming under her ribs that will look much uglier in a few days. A thin bandage wraps her side where the bullet tore skin. Whatever energy she had is now gone as she falls asleep almost immediately.
The nurse slips in quietly behind me and starts taking Anya’s vitals. I take a step back so she can do her work.
“The pain will spike when she wakes,” the nurse says quietly. “I’ll try to wake her up every few hours to keep the pain medicine constant.”
“Thank you,” I reply, unable to take my eyes from Anya’s sleeping face.
“She needs rest,” she adds. “She’ll need to stay in bed for a few days while this heals.”
“She can get as much rest as she needs,” I say.
The nurse hesitates, then looks at me like she’s choosing her next words carefully.
“The pregnancy is very early, and this amount of stress is dangerous.”
My jaw tightens.
“That’s why you’re here,” I remind her. “It’s your job to make sure she doesn’t experience any more stress.”
The nurse nods because she knows better than to argue. She gives me a list of instructions anyway. Watch her breathing. Watch her color. Watch for sudden abdominal pain. Watch for fainting. Keep her hydrated. Keep her calm.
She must think I’m a miracle worker. She clearly hasn’t experienced Anya awake enough.
The nurse leaves to set up her own room. She’ll stay as long as we need her, and as long as we keep her paid.
I stand at the foot of the bed and watch Anya breathe. She’s so weak and vulnerable in this state. It’s such a stark contrast to her standing next to me, shooting down Mikhail’s men. She’s not in any fighting shape now.
Sergei appears in the doorway, watching me. When I notice him, he nods for me to follow.
“What?” I ask when we step out into the hall.
“We’ve moved the injured,” he tells me. “Two are stable, one is not. He’s losing a lot of blood. The doctor isn’t sure if he’s going to last the night.”
“Who?” I ask.
“Alexei,” Sergei replies. “He was in the rear vehicle.”
I nod once, considering this. Alexei has a wife in Bensonhurst and a kid who just learned how to ride a bike. He was so proud.
“You tell the doctor to do whatever he can to save him. Spare no expense. I’m not losing another man.”
He nods.
“What’s the street looking like?” I ask.
“We cleaned up the area as much as we could,” Sergei answers. “Police are going to write it up as gang violence. They’ll blame whoever is convenient. Mikhail’s men disappeared fast. They pulled bodies and they took their wounded.”
“They didn’t want a trace,” I say.
“They didn’t want proof of the attack,” Sergei corrects. “They wanted you dead and her alive. That was the objective.”
My throat tightens. “They didn’t get it.”
“No,” Sergei agrees, then pauses. “Viktor, we need to talk about relocation.”
“We already relocated,” I remind him, gesturing around to the new house.
He sighs. “I mean next steps. This place is secure, but the city is compressing. Mikhail is going to escalate after today. Ivan is going to escalate after today. People are going to start making desperate decisions.”
“Let them,” I answer, unbothered.
“That attitude will get you killed,” Sergei says seriously. “You have to be smart about this. What’s the endgame here?”
“I think the families were right all along,” I say carefully. “Mikhail is a problem that needs to be taken care of permanently. Brooklyn won’t be able to function as long as he’s allowed to live.”
“Then you’re choosing all-our war,” he says solemnly. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but you know I’ll fight with you.”
“He chose all-out war when he attacked our convoy. We need to start gathering support,” I tell him. “Quietly, of course. There’s probably some anger toward us because we’ve waited so long to act, but we’re going to need an army.”
“They’ll fight with you as the leader,” he says. “Even after all this unpleasantness, I know they will.”
“Make sure that’s the case.” I sigh warily. “If we’re going to do this, we have to be sure we’re going to win.”
“Now you’re thinking like a pakhan.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the side.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m thinking like a father.”
Sergei claps me on the back and goes back downstairs.
I’m grateful to have him by my side at a time like this.
In the absence of my own father, he’s the closest thing I have.
When this is all over, he’ll likely be my child’s godfather.
Given, of course, that Anya doesn’t take our child and run the first chance she gets.
I go back into the room. It’s so quiet, I can hear every change in her breathing pattern.
She shifts slightly on the bed, grimacing in her sleep.
Her hand moves toward her ribs automatically, then drops back to the sheet.
She’s hurting even when she’s unconscious.
I hate that. I wish I could get rid of all of her pain.
I move closer without thinking.
I sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle the mattress too much. The sheets are cool under my palms. She stirs slightly, but then relaxes again, so peaceful in her sleep. I envy her for that.
She needs the extra strength. Her only job right now is to heal, and then to take care of herself so our child can grow. I can take care of the rest.
My eyes drift to her stomach without my permission.
I can’t stop marveling at the thought that my kid is in there.
There’s nothing visible yet. Her stomach is still completely flat.
I think back to that night in the kitchen.
It wasn’t so long ago. Whatever’s growing inside her is still so small and so fragile that it can’t exist without us doing everything we can to help it grow.
I lean forward slightly and adjust the blanket so it covers her more fully. It’s a small gesture, but it’s the only thing I’m able to do to help her right now. My role in this is minimal. The only way I can support my child is to support her. Her pride is the only thing standing in the way of that.
I shake my head and carefully rest my hand on her stomach, above the blanket.
It’s silly, I know, but it’s like I feel a magnetic pull to the life inside of her. My hand feels warmer there.
I lower my voice, even though she’s too knocked out to hear me.
“I’m going to protect our family,” I nearly whisper. “No matter what it costs me.”