Willow doesn’t move. She doesn’t give any indication that she’s even heard me speak. She just stays on her knees, staring at the carpet like there is a way to turn back time woven into the pattern.
It’s only when Gaiman grabs her and helps her to her feet that she snaps out of it. “Wait. Leo.”
I turn to her, my expression dark. She takes one look at my face and I watch the regret ripple across her features. But I don’t have it in me to be anything other than angry.
“We have to get him back.”
I nod. “I will get him back. And I’ll do it on my own.”
I give Gaiman a curt nod and he pulls her from the room. “No,” she says, pleading. “Leo, I—”
But I turn my back on her and wait until I hear the door click shut.
“Was that necessary?” Ariel asks when we’re alone again.
I whirl around. “Excuse me?”
She raises her hands like she’s surrendering, but I know better. Ariel doesn’t back down even when she should.
“She’s a mother who just learned that a monster has her kid,” she says. “I’m just pointing out that maybe you were a little… insensitive.”
“You realize that’s my kid, too?”
“It’s different.”
“Why?” I demand. “You think I don’t care about him as much?”
She sighs. “Spartak isn't going to hurt the baby.”
“Can you guarantee that?”
“As soon as I get back, yes,” she says confidently. “I’ll make sure nothing hurts that little boy.”
“And if he orders you to hurt him?”
“I’ll find a way around it.”
I shake my head. “Even you won’t be able to talk yourself out of a direct order, Ariel.”
“I’m not one of his men,” she says defensively. “He considers me his partner.”
I stare at her in disbelief. “Please don’t tell me you believe that.”
“He trusts me more than anyone else in his life.”
“That doesn’t mean he trusts you.”
“I’ve survived for years by his side. I’ve earned his trust, Leo. And I thought I’d earned yours.”
I grit my teeth. She does have a point, as much as I hate to admit it. “I don’t want you to get complacent.”
Her eyes blaze with anger. “Complacent?” she repeats. “Do you really think I would ever get complacent with the man who murdered my fiancé? This isn’t a game for me, Leo, and even if it was, I’m no fucking amateur. Don’t treat me like one.”
I bite my tongue, but it’s not to be kind. Nothing that happens here will change the fact that Ariel has to go back to Belov. And nothing will change that, for now, she is the only thing that stands between my son and safety.
“You need to go,” I tell her.
She nods. “I’ve been packed for the last two days. I’ll be back with him by nightfall.”
“He’s going to want to know where you’ve been.”
“And I have a whole itinerary ready to show him.”
“Proof?”
“What do you think I am?” she asks. “An amateur?”
I don’t answer.
“He’s not going to be worrying about where I was, anyway,” she continues. “He’s going to be high off this victory.”
“Don’t make assumptions.”
She smiles. “I know the man.”
“But where my son is concerned, I want to make sure you’re prepared for any possibility.”
“Your son is going to be under my protection,” she says. “And anyway, Belov needs him alive. You already know that.”
I nod. “You’re right.”
She puts her hand on my shoulder and gives me a reassuring squeeze. “I might not be able to make contact once I’m back.”
“I know.”
“Don’t let that worry you. Just because you don’t hear from me doesn’t mean anything is wrong.”
I nod. “But if you do get the opportunity—”
“I’ll make sure I send you a message at the very least,” she promises.
I nod again, and she takes a breath. I can already see her shifting, morphing from Ariel into Brit. Her jaw hardens. Her fists tighten. The light in her eyes dims and dims until it’s gone, and only dark blue ice remains.
“We’re in the home stretch here,” I remind her.
She nods. “See you on the other side.”
Then she turns and walks out the door, leaving it open for Jax and Gaiman to walk through.
“Everything done?” I ask.
“She’s in your room,” Gaiman confirms. “She… doesn’t seem to be in a good place.”
“Can’t blame her,” Jax mutters.
“Actually, I can,” I growl. “She’s responsible for this mess. If she hadn’t fought me so goddamn hard, Pasha would be here with us. Belov wouldn’t have found anything when he invaded Anya’s compound.”
Gaiman and Jax exchange a glance, but neither one says anything. Both of them are smart enough to know that this is not the time to defend Willow.
I’m sick of talking about it, anyway. The blame game solves nothing. It’s time for action. For violence.
It’s time for what I do best.
“What have you got for me?” I ask Gaiman.
He straightens up and clears his throat. “I had a team follow Anya’s tracks out of the city, but we lost her about two miles out. She’s probably in one of her safehouses somewhere, hiding.”
“Find her,” I say. “It’s about time we spoke face to face.”
Gaiman looks wary. “It might take a while. She’s no slouch. She knows how to hide, how to cover her—”
“I don’t give a flying fuck,” I interrupt harshly. “When I ask you to do something, I don’t want to hear excuses. I want results. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Gaiman says. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He’s about to leave the office when the door cracks open. “Boss?”
“Connor,” I say to the young guard. “What is it?”
“It’s… um… Mrs. Solovev, sir,” he says uncertainly. “She’s banging on the door. Says she needs to speak to you.”
I snort. “Ignore it. And next time, don’t waste my time with that shit.”
His eyes dart around the room. There’s clearly something else he hasn’t told me yet, but he’s trying to determine just how important that information is.
Jax moves forward. “You heard him. Get out.”
“Wait,” I say. My instincts are prickling. “What else did she say?”
He looks relieved that I’ve asked. “She says she knows where to find her mother.”
23
WILLOW
Pasha clings to my breast but he refuses to suckle. “He’s not latching on,” I whisper. “Come on, little man. Just drink. Please?”
“It won’t matter even if he latches on,” Anya points out. “You don’t have milk.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t breastfeed me?”
She looks almost embarrassed that I would even think to ask the question. “Of course not.”
“How old was I when you gave me up?”
“A month,” she says.
“You could have breastfed me until then.”
“But I didn’t want to,” she says curtly. “That’s all there is to it.”
I focus on my son in order to keep my resentment from spilling out. She adjusts in the chair, and I can feel her eyes on me.
“You’re expecting more from me than I can give, Viktoria,” she remarks. “I was not meant to be a mother. That was one of the reasons I gave you up.”
I laugh bitterly. “That may be the first honest thing you’ve said to me in a while.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”