32. Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sergei
“Sergei,” Anton hisses through clenched teeth, his upper lip curling into a sneer as he rises to his feet.
I’ve seen this expression before but never directed so openly at me.
I step further into the backyard, away from the hidden gate behind the tall bushes where I left Daniel.
The barrel of my gun presses against my waistband as I sweep my gaze across the yard, scanning every detail, silently praying that I don’t miss a thing.
I know my next move could determine Aurora’s fate—and mine along with it.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Anton says as his face contorts with disgust.
Anton.
My eyes narrow into slits as I process this ugly truth. He’s not who I thought he was. The friend I once considered a brother vanishes before me. Perhaps he was never truly there.
Anton’s upper lip curls in a snarl. “That’s unfortunate. Poor Misha will be left an orphan.”
At my son’s name, a flicker of emotion passes on Aurora’s face—one I can’t fully decipher.
“How poetic would it be for him to end up in foster care?” He pulls Aurora up, positioning himself behind her.
I clench my jaw, the tension making it tremble. The wind has stilled, as if nature itself is holding its breath, waiting for the outcome of this standoff. My focus shifts to Aurora, who’s visibly shivering, clad only in a tank top and jeans.
Any feelings of betrayal I had toward her working with Daniel fade with each shudder of her body. Her vulnerability ignites an amplified surge of rage within me, and I envision countless ways to make Anton pay.
I take a cautious step closer, searching for a way to get us out alive.
Aurora shifts forward, but Anton yanks her back against his chest, his grip tightening until a whimper slips from her lips just as her eyes go wide with fear.
My pulse spikes as I inch another step, struggling to control my rage.
“Standing behind a woman, Anton? Mighty powerful of you,” I grind out.
“Alessia’s favorite position.” Anton winks, his tone taunting.
I halt mid-step, his words hitting me like a sonic force.
I knew my relationship with Alessia was far from perfect, but I never suspected she was...
unfaithful. I also didn’t see Anton’s betrayal coming.
I never imagined that my friend—at least, I thought he was my friend—could harbor such hatred, enough to betray me and everything I hold dear.
Perhaps I’m not as good a judge of character as I thought.
I clench my fists. The intense urge to draw my gun is overwhelming. But doing so would put Aurora in harm’s way, and I refuse to risk her safety. I’ll endure every bit of venom Anton hurls at me before I let anything happen to her.
Alessia is gone, and there’s nothing I can do to help her now.
“Ty ubil yeye,” I say, the harsh truth spilling from my tongue in our native language—the one we spoke in makeshift tents and while playing chase as children.
“I didn’t kill her,” Anton sneers back in English.
“She fell,” he hurries to add, exhaling sharply through his nose.
“Let’s move on. Coming here is going to cost you your life.
Nobody is doing what they’re supposed to!
” he yells. “Doesn’t matter.” He then inhales deeply, frustration twisting his features as he scratches his head with the barrel of the gun.
“I can make this work. Maybe I’ll make it look like a lovers’ spat.
I’ll kill her, and then make it look like you finally lost it… and decided to end your life.”
With that, he shifts the gun from Aurora to me.
Good.
My hands shoot up, cementing me to the spot. I’ve come close, but not close enough—there’s still too much distance between me and Aurora. I won’t be able to reach her in time.
“Please don’t hurt him,” Aurora pleads, struggling against Anton’s body.
His hold tightens as he slides his hand from her chest to her throat, pressing the gun firmly against her temple. Aurora blinks rapidly, her lower lip quivering. If she loses it now, she’ll end up directly in the line of fire.
“Rora, are you okay?” I ask, knowing it’s the dumbest question ever, but I need to keep her calm long enough to save her.
At the sound of my voice, Anton jerks the gun back on me.
“I’ve dealt with worse babies before,” she struggles to reply. “Just a typical toddler tantrum.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out her plan. Why are you provoking him?
Anton tightens his hold on her neck, his face flushing with anger. He presses the gun back against her head, forcing Aurora to tilt hers sideways. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart? Taunting a man with a gun isn’t very clever.”
“A man?” she scoffs. “I see nothing more than a child playing with a NERF blaster.”
The realization of her plan strikes me like a bolt of lightning, cutting through the darkness in my mind. She’s trying to keep Anton focused on her, giving me a chance to act. She’s willing to risk her own life so that I can make it out of here, for Misha.
Stop doing that! I want to scream at her, but she won’t meet my gaze.
“Rora, dear, please stop irritating the kritin with a gun to your head,” I say, layering disdain into my voice.
Two can play this game.
I’m so close now—only three more steps, and I could reach her. If I can only get him to aim the gun at me, channel his anger away from her, maybe she’ll get a chance to escape. I can’t let her die. I can’t handle losing another person in my life, and I won’t let Misha suffer another loss.
In such a short time, Aurora has become central to Misha’s life.
She’s not just a nanny—she’s everything.
She’s the one he rushes to with a new fun fact, the one he clings to when he’s scared, the one he giggles with, and the one he seeks out when he’s not feeling well.
She has become his safe haven, his comfort—his home.
My home.
She transformed our cold penthouse into a real home where laughter is allowed and silliness welcomed.
It became a space where I, too, felt I had a place, where I was invited.
Alessia had her own sanctuary—a warm, impenetrable bubble for her and Misha.
I never stood a chance of breaching it, nor could I fully reach her heart.
Perhaps if I had insisted, she might have made space for me. If I had shown how much I wanted to be an active part of Misha’s life, she might have found room for me too. Maybe our relationship could have had a chance. Maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation.
“Sergei, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” Aurora sobs.
“How adorable,” Anton drawls. “Did you know…” He drags his tongue slowly across her cheek, never breaking eye contact with me. “That your precious Rora,” he spits out the nickname with a sneer, “has been working with Custode? Trying to prove that you murdered our dear Alessia?”
Aurora releases a shaky sigh, tears streaming down her cheeks. Over and over, she whispers, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I take another step forward.
Anton swings the gun back in my direction. “Stop! Stay back!” he shouts, his voice trembles.
Anton has always been impulsive, chasing after things he hasn’t earned or doesn’t deserve.
He always devised quick, dubious schemes, easily blurring the lines of legality, always pushing us into business with shady characters.
When I rejected his ideas, I thought he’d return with better ones, believing it was healthy for us to challenge each other.
But now, I see the resentment he buried, ready to erupt like a dormant volcano.
“Anton, moy brat,” I say in Russian, summoning every ounce of willpower to maintain a steady poker face.
This is the most crucial game of my life.
I need to keep him calm. “Talk to me. How can I help? Let me help,” I continue in our language, hoping to remind him of our roots, of our decades-long friendship.
“I’m sorry…” Aurora keeps repeating through ragged, breathless sobs.
Tears well in my eyes as reality hits me with cruel intensity. If I don’t act now, I’ll witness the death of the woman I love.
The woman I love.
A gunshot echoes through the night.