18. Aria #3
But Daniel isn’t convinced. “What if you don’t come back? What if something happens while you’re gone? What if someone—” He can’t finish the sentence and dissolves into sobs.
“I’ll come back. I always come back.” Maksim kneels beside the bed, wincing at the pain in his ribs. “Count to sixty and I’ll be here. Can you do that?”
Sometimes it works. Sometimes Daniel can count and calm himself. Sometimes it doesn’t, and we have to bring him with us because leaving him alone—even with nurses present and guards outside—sends him into hysterics.
I watch my son’s fear and feel rage unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
Someone did this to him. Someone looked at my beautiful, innocent, seven-year-old child and decided to poison him and make him suffer. They tried to take him from me.
And that someone is still out there. Still free. Still breathing.
It’s not right. I want blood. I want to watch Alexander Morozov die slowly and painfully. I want to make him feel every moment of terror that Daniel has felt. Every second of choking on poison while his small body convulsed.
I want him to suffer the way my son has suffered.
And I want to be there when it happens.
One week after Daniel wakes up, Maksim and I are alone in our quarters at the compound.
Daniel is finally sleeping in the next room, but he’s heavily medicated with something Dr. Petrov assured us is safe for children.
We’ve set up monitors so we can hear if he wakes.
There are guards posted outside his door.
Nikolai himself checked the security protocols.
But I’m still scared out of my mind and I’m constantly listening for sounds from the monitor. I’m ready to run to him at the first sign of distress.
“You don’t have to testify in front of council, once we’ve found Alexander,” Maksim tells me, his expression pinched in worry. “I can find a way to leave you out of it.”
We’re sitting on the couch in the sitting area. It’s a beautiful room with hardwood floors and expensive furniture that I barely notice. Both of us are exhausted as we’ve been running on adrenaline and fear. We’re too wired to sleep even though we desperately need rest.
“I want to testify,” I say coldly. “I want to look him in the eye and tell everyone what he did. I want the whole council to hear how he poisoned my son and tried to murder you.”
Maksim takes my hand and brings it to his lips. “I want you there when he dies. You’ve earned that right.”
“I want to watch him die.” The words taste like venom in my mouth. “I want to see the life leave his eyes so I know he can’t hurt us anymore.”
I see approval in Maksim’s gray eyes. Maybe even pride. “You’ve changed.”
“He tried to murder my child,” I say fiercely as the hand not in Maksim’s clenches into fists, my nails digging into my palms. “I’m done being scared. I’m done running and being the victim. I want him dead, and I want to be there when it happens.”
“You will be.” He pulls me closer, his arm around my shoulders. “I promise you that. We’re going to end this together.”
I lean into him, breathing in his scent that I’ve come to associate with safety. “I used to think violence was wrong and revenge was pointless. I really thought being the bigger person mattered.”
“And now?” I can hear Maksim’s voice vibrate against me.
I shake my head. “Now I understand why people kill and seek revenge.” My voice breaks slightly. “Because when someone threatens hurt your baby and tries to take away everything you love—there’s no being the bigger person. There’s just protecting what’s yours no matter what it takes.”
“Yes.” He presses a kiss to my hair. “Exactly.”
We sit in silence for a moment. Then I feel it—a flutter low in my belly. It’s stronger than before. The baby moving, reminding me that life continues even in the midst of all this death and fear.
I gasp softly, my palm flying to my stomach.
Maksim must realize what’s happening and his hand covers mine before it slides to rest on my stomach.
I’m showing significantly now at nearly twenty weeks, the bump unmistakable and round under my dress.
His palm is warm against the fabric as he strains, hoping to feel the baby.
I smile softly at him. “It’s still too early for you to feel them,” I say. “Right now it just feels like little bubbles. Give it a few weeks and you’ll be able to feel him or her.”
Maksim looks slightly disappointed and my heart goes out to him. I know how badly he wants to feel our baby.
I cover his hand with mine. “Dr. Petrov says everything looks good. Despite everything that’s happened, the baby is healthy and growing right on schedule.”
“Good.” His hand stays on my stomach. “I need all of you to be okay. You, Daniel, this baby. My whole family.”
“We will be.” I turn to look at him, and what I see in his eyes makes my breath catch. Love. Fierce, protective, love mixed with fear and determination. “We’re all going to be okay as soon as Alexander is dead.”
“He will be.” Maksim’s voice is deadly. “I promise you that.”
I turn more fully toward him, and what I see in his eyes makes something shift inside me. We’ve been so focused on Daniel that we’ve barely touched in what feels like forever.
But now, looking at him—at the exhaustion in his face, the pain in his eyes, and the stubborn love that keeps him fighting even when his body is hurting—I feel desire pool low in my belly.
“I want you,” I whisper. “I need to feel something other than fear and rage.”
“Aria—” There’s concern in his voice.
“Please.” I’m already reaching for him, my hands on his chest. “I need you. I need to feel connected to you. I need to remember that we still have each other.”
He doesn’t need more convincing. His mouth finds mine, and the kiss is desperate and hungry, full of days of pent-up fear and need.
But now, after watching our son nearly die and knowing he’s physically on the mend, we need this. We need to remember we’re fighting for us too.