He doesn’t bother denying it. “Your contractions are getting closer together.”
I ignore him. Tell me something I don’t know, asshole. “And at the hospital, you’re the one that told Uri that my babies weren’t his.”
“I really didn’t think that would work. I overestimated how much your man trusts you.”
Another contraction hits me like a runaway train. I clamp down because I won’t give these monsters the satisfaction of hearing my screams, though I think I fuck up my jaw with how hard it is to keep them swallowed down.
“Don’t talk to me about trust,” I pant when the wave subsides. “You’re an idiot to trust that Boris is going to keep his word and leave you and your family unharmed. The moment he’s got me out of the way, he’s going to kill you, too.”
Grigory shrugs. “I’m useful to him. As long as I continue to be useful to him, he’ll keep me alive.”
“You really want to live your entire life with that noose around your neck?” He moves wordlessly to my feet and starts undoing my restraints. “What are you doing?”
He starts to transfer my legs into stirrups. I summon as much strength as I can muster and kick him in the chest. The first blow takes him by surprise and he stumbles backward, but I don’t have time to get in a second before he seizes my ankle hard with both hands and slams it down into the stirrup.
“You’re only making this worse for yourself,” he growls, repeating the same process with my other leg.
“What does it even matter?” I cry out. “He’s going to kill me and my babies anyway. If I’m gonna go down, I might as well go down fighting.”
Those words sound a lot more badass than they feel. As my legs are locked down with tight cuffs, I feel my spirit die a little inside. My babies aren’t even born yet and already, I’m failing at motherhood.
Grigory adjusts the stirrups out to each side and my legs part against my will. “I’m going to check for dilation. This might hurt a little.”
“No. Stop. Stop.”
He doesn’t stop. He pulls on a glove and inserts his hand between my legs. I wince against the sharp pain as another contraction starts up. They’re coming fast now. Too fast. Too fucking fast.
“You’re at eight centimeters. It’s almost time to start pushing.”
Pushing?
“Y-you’re not cutting me open?”
His eyes meet mine over my swollen stomach. “If we cut you open, we risk losing you on the table. Boris wants you alive for… after.”
I’m not sure why but I’m relieved. Probably because the thought of this group of people cutting me open feels a little bit like being a piece of meat at a butcher’s shop. At least I’ll have the small dignity of delivering my babies myself.
The butchery will come afterward.
“I’m going to give you an epidural for the pain.”
“No!”
He pauses. “No?”
“If I’m going to be forced to have my babies now, I want to remember every single detail. I want to feel it. Every single thing.”
Grigory frowns. “An epidural won’t affect your ability to remember this. It will only numb you so that the experience isn’t as painful. Considering what you’ll go through after this, I’d want to avoid as much pain as you can beforehand, if I were you.”
It’s a strange and terrifying warning delivered like run-of-the-mill medical advice, which only makes it all the more chilling. But I shake my head anyway. “No. I want to have my babies naturally. Like I said, I want to feel everything.”
Grigory shrugs. “It’s your call.”
I collapse back against my pillow. My sweat is soaking through the sheets until they stick to my bare skin. For a while, all I can feel is the rattle of my breath in my lungs. Then, out of nowhere, another contraction starts up with a vengeance.
As my spine arches once more and that splitting-me-apart pain reaches its fever pitch, I keep my mouth sealed shut, even when it’s almost impossible not to scream. This might just be the most painful one yet. Surely, whatever Boris has in store for me is nothing compared to this, right?
Somewhere in the midst of it, I hear Grigory whisper out the door, “It’s almost time.”
“Oh, God,” I moan deliriously, staring up at the ceiling. I close my eyes and whisper a prayer.
Please help me. Send Uri to me. This can’t be how it ends. Not for me and not for my babies. This can’t be the end.
More feet approach. I want to look, but my head is getting heavier and heavier by the minute.
“Jesus!” the black-haired nurse exclaims. “That’s a lot of blood. Is that normal?”
“No.” Grigory’s voice is low and urgent. “No, it’s not.”
“Well? What do we do?”
“Go get Boris. Something’s wrong.”
56
URI
There’s a moment of silence on the other line after I give Dominik the location.
“Are you sure?” he asks again. “That’s a house in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.”
“In a way, it’s genius,” I point out. “No one will suspect the kind of depraved shit happening in the basements of some of these nice little suburban homes. People see picket fences and think ‘wholesome family life.’”
“I can be there in thirty with backup.”
“Bring every man you can spare. This is it.”
He hangs up and I jump into the passenger seat while Nikolai takes the wheel and Dimiv climbs in the back. We’ve got half a dozen cars filled with armed men trailing us, but nothing about our current situation reassures me.
I fucked up. There’s no way to get past that. I lapped up every last morsel of the bullshit that that bastard, Grigory, fed me. I believed him over Alyssa. I trusted him over my own brother. I left my woman exposed and vulnerable and I beat Nikolai’s face into a bloody pulp.
If my father were here, he’d have put my ass into the dirt and I’d deserve it. I glance over my shoulder at Dimiv. “Check in with Stepan. I need to know the moment Lev and Polly are back in the estate.”
“On it.”
I can’t stop thinking about Alyssa and what she must be going through right now. If she or one of those babies is hurt because of this, I’ll never forgive myself. I may as well just step down as pahkan and hand the mantle over to Nikolai. He deserves it more than I do, anyway.
I glance his way. His driving is fast and decisive, despite the crusted blood gluing his eyes shut and the swollen bruises I can already see forming high on his cheekbones. I did that to him. I hurt him.
I’m not my brother’s keeper, apparently; I’m my brother’s would-be murderer.
Idiot.
Fucking idiot.
“It’s going to be okay, you know,” Nikolai says, tossing me a concerned glance as we whip around a corner. “We’ll get there in time.”
I wince. He doesn’t even sound angry anymore. Somehow, that’s so much worse. I’d know what to do with his anger: take it. His sympathy, on the other hand, is a complete mystery. “Nikolai…”
“Don’t,” he says firmly. “You can apologize to me later. After you’ve found Alyssa and sorted out your shit with her.”
I sigh. “You’re a better man than I am.”