12. Aria
ARIA
I’m on the hunt for Daniel later that afternoon.
I finally found that stupid fucking dinosaur—it wasn’t in the garage but was somehow wedged under his bed—and am trying to find my son so he can finally have it back.
He’s obviously not in his room and I don’t find him in the kitchen. He’s not outside either.
Where is he?
I pass by the library and hear voices. I slow down and peek in and the sight stops me in the doorway.
Maksim is sprawled in the oversized leather armchair by the window, his long legs stretched out.
He’s dressed down in blue jeans and a green t-shirt that stretches across his broad chest. The afternoon sunlight catches the silver in his dark hair, making his gray eyes almost luminous as he reads aloud from a battered hardcover book.
Daniel is tucked against his side, practically burrowed into Maksim’s chest, his small body fitting perfectly in the curve of his father’s arm. He’s wearing his favorite pirate shirt, and his feet are bare, one leg draped over Maksim’s knee.
“‘Prepare to be boarded, ye scurvy dogs!’” Maksim reads in an exaggerated pirate voice that’s nothing like his usual deep rumble. “‘Captain Blackheart raises his cutlass high—’”
Daniel giggles, the sound bright and free. “Do the parrot! Do the parrot voice!”
Maksim doesn’t miss a beat, switching to a high-pitched squawk. “‘Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Walk the plank, ye landlubbers!’”
Daniel dissolves into laughter, clutching his stomach, and Maksim’s grin is so wide and genuine that it makes me do a double take.
It’s so different from the cold, controlled expression he wears.
His hand is resting on Daniel’s back, thumb moving in absent circles, and Daniel is completely relaxed against him. Trusting. Safe.
My chest tightens painfully.
This is what I wanted to give my son. A father who reads to him and does silly voices. A father who makes him laugh. A father who holds him like he’s the most important thing in the world.
But I took that away from him. Even if I was right to run—and God, I still think I was right—I can’t deny what I stole from Daniel. From both of them.
My mind goes back to the other night, sitting in bed with Maksim and showing him photos and videos of Daniel’s early years.
The way Maksim’s face looked watching Daniel take his first steps in that cramped Philadelphia apartment made me want to cry.
I could see the way his jaw clenched when he saw Daniel’s third birthday party, just me and Daniel and a single cupcake with a candle because I couldn’t afford more.
The way his eyes went bright with unshed tears when I played the video of Daniel’s first day of kindergarten, wearing clothes from the thrift store and a backpack I’d found at a garage sale.
“You should have been there,” I’d whispered, and Maksim had just pulled me closer, his face buried in my hair, his whole body trembling.
“Show me more,” he’d said, his voice rough. “Please. Show me everything.”
And I had. Every photo, every video, every memory I could share, trying to give him back what I’d taken, knowing it would never be enough.
“Mama!” Daniel spots me in the doorway and sits up. “We’re reading about pirates! Captain Blackheart just found the treasure island!”
“I can hear that.” I force a smile, pushing down the guilt. “Sounds exciting.”
“Want to join us?” Maksim’s eyes meet mine over Daniel’s head, and there’s something soft in them. An olive branch from earlier when I refused to tell him about my flashback to when I saw him murder someone.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
“Don’t be silly, Mama.” Daniel pats the arm of the chair. “There’s room. Maks is really good at voices.”
There isn’t actually room. But Maksim shifts, making space, and before I can overthink it I’m crossing the library and perching on the arm of the chair.
Maksim’s large hand finds the small of my back immediately, steadying me, and Daniel leans back against both of us, creating a little cocoon of warmth.
“Where were we?” Maksim looks down at the book. “Ah yes. ‘Captain Blackheart’s crew trembled in fear as the storm approached—’”
He continues reading, switching between the narrator’s voice and ridiculous character voices that make Daniel laugh. His hand stays on my back, thumb tracing small circles through my shirt, and I let myself lean into it. Into him. Into this moment that feels almost normal.
Almost like a real family.
That night, after Daniel is tucked into bed after falling asleep halfway through a chapter, I’m back in the library, curled in the same chair where they were reading, staring at nothing.
The book is still on the side table, a bookmark holding their place. The room smells like the cedar logs burning in the fireplace and the faint scent of Maksim’s cologne.
I’m thinking about Daniel’s face when Maksim did that parrot voice. The way he laughed, completely uninhibited. He fit so perfectly against his father’s side.
My stomach clenches. I’ve never been able to give him that kind of security. That kind of joy.
“You’re still here.”
I don’t startle at Maksim’s voice. I heard his footsteps in the hall and knew he was coming.
“Couldn’t sleep.” I don’t look at him. “Too much on my mind.”
He crosses to the fireplace, adding another log even though the fire doesn’t need it. He’s clearly giving himself something to do with his hands. “Want to talk about it?”
“I see you with him,” I whisper, still staring at nothing.
“With Daniel, I mean. I see how he trusts you. He’s so happy with you.
He lights up when you walk into a room.” I finally look at Maksim, who is watching me carefully, his eyes hooded.
“And I want to believe that you’re not what I thought you were and I didn’t make a terrible mistake running. ”
Maksim sets down the poker and crosses to me, sitting on the coffee table so we’re at eye level. He takes my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “It is real. We’re real. This”—he gestures between us—“this family we’re building is the most real thing I’ve ever had.”
“Then why can’t I shake this terror?” My eyes fill with tears. “Why am I still so afraid?”
“Tell me what you saw that night.” His voice is gentle but urgent. “Please, Aria. Tell me what happened and let me prove you can trust me. Let me prove I’m not whatever you think I am.”
The tears spill over. “I’m afraid.”
He takes a breath. “Of me?”
“Of what happens when I tell you.” I pull my hand away, wrapping my arms around myself. “What comes after.”
His patience is fraying. I can see the frustration building behind his eyes. He stands abruptly, runs his hands through his hair, and paces to the fireplace and back.
“We’re back to this?” His voice rises slightly. “After everything—after weeks of this—you’re carrying my child, after I’ve done everything I can think of to show you you’re safe—you still won’t trust me?”
I shake my head. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is that simple!” He’s not quite yelling, but it’s close, his lips screwed up like he just ate something sour.
“Either you trust me or you don’t. Either we’re creating something meaningful here or we’re just playing house until you decide to run again.
I’m tired of the walls, Aria. I’m tired of feeling like you’re always halfway out the door. ”
I stand too, my own frustration rising to meet his. “You don’t understand what you’re asking of me.”
“Then make me understand!” He’s in front of me now, his hands desperately gripping my shoulders. “Tell me what’s so terrible that you’d rather live like this than just say it! What could possibly be worse than this limbo we’re in?”
“Because saying it could get me killed!” I scream and they echo in the quiet library.
Maksim goes very, very still and his hands drop from my shoulders as if he’s been burned. “What did you say?”
I realize what I’ve said and I try to backtrack. “I–I d-didn’t mean—”
“Someone would kill you for telling me what you saw?” His voice is dangerously quiet and he now looks like the Bratva enforcer I saw that night in the warehouse. “Who? Who are you afraid of, Aria?”
I shrink back, fear making bile rise in my throat. “No—”
“Who?” he roars. “Who would kill you? Give me a name.”
“I can’t.” I’m crying now, backing toward the door, my heart hammering as my brain tells me to flee. “Don’t you understand? I can’t.”
“Jesus fucking Christ!” He turns away and braces his hands on the mantle, his shoulders heaving. “We’re right back where we fucking started. You won’t trust me or give me anything to work with.”
I’m scared shitless now, afraid of what I’m seeing.
I inch more toward the door, desperate to get out of here.
But Maksim spins back around, and the fury in his eyes makes me flinch.
“Fine,” he spits out. “Protect whomever it is you’re scared of.
But don’t expect me to smile and play happy family while you treat me like the enemy. ”
“I don’t do that,” I whisper in fear as he stalks toward me.
“Yes, you do.” He’s right in my personal space now and I can see the fury in his eyes. “You look at me like I’m the enemy. I’m tired of paying for crimes I don’t even know I committed.”
I shake my head. “You don’t understand—”
“You’re right, I don’t, because you won’t tell me.” He stops in the doorway, not looking back. “I need some air. Don’t wait up.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m alone in the library with the crushing weight of my own fear. I sink back into the chair and let myself cry. I want to tell him. God, I want to tell him so badly. I want to believe that he’ll protect me, and that telling him won’t sign my death warrant.
But what if I’m wrong?
What if I tell him and he was part of it? What if Alexander was telling the truth eight years ago and Maksim planned to kill Nikolai?
Or worse—what if I tell him and he doesn’t believe me? What if he thinks I’m making it up, and trying to turn him against his brother’s most trusted man?
Either way, I lose and I’m dead.