Adrian's voice cuts through my spiral, and I look up at him.
He doesn't yell. He almost doesn't react. The silence stretches heavy between us, and in some ways I want him to say something, to rage, to scream, but I also know I just dropped the biggest bomb on him at probably the worst time.
But emotions and feelings don't have a clock.
Adrian reaches up and takes my chin. His eyes bore into mine, dark and fierce and utterly uncompromising.
"First," he says, his voice deadly calm, "none of this was your fault."
His grip tightens just slightly.
"Second, I am so sorry you had to go through any of that alone. You are my world. That was our baby, and we will never forget them. I promise you that," he says and takes a breath.
"And third," Adrian continues, his upper lip twitching, "if I didn't already want to, I am going to fucking kill every last Volkov on earth. I will wipe out the bloodline so not even their memories will live on."
I nod, wiping away tears with the back of my hand, and I know from the twitch of Adrian's lip, from the cold fury burning in his eyes, that all this is no longer just about my kidnapping.
It's about vengeance for his child. For our child. And I couldn't be happier at the thought of the Volkovs' demise.
Adrian pulls me to him with his good arm, and I lean against his chest, careful to avoid his wounded shoulder. He holds me tight, his chin resting on top of my head, and we sit like that in silence.
I replay what I'd just told him, and even though it was terrible news, I feel relieved not to be shouldering the burden alone anymore. Not keeping it buried deep in my mind, afraid to acknowledge it or even think about it.
And even though plane noises reminded me of one of the scariest moments of my life, right now, with him, it doesn't feel as if it'll always be like that. One day, I may actually like to fly again.
I close my eyes and breathe in Adrian's scent, and time blurs. I don't know how much time has passed, if it's been minutes or hours, when Victor clears his throat.
I lift my head, and we both look at him.
"We'll be landing soon," Victor says. "Lucian will be there."
I turn to look out the window and see the jet beginning its descent. The Carpathian Mountains rise in the distance.
Romania.
My home.
"It's going to feel good to be back," I say, my voice hoarse.
Adrian smiles and nods. "You have no idea how good it is to have you home."
I hold his hand while I stare out the window, Bra?ov coming into view as we get lower and lower.
And then my stomach flips, not from the motion but from everything that's waiting for me down there.
My sister, Stefania. My parents.
They all think I'm dead.
The plane lands and comes to a stop.
Victor stands, straightening his torn, blood-splattered suit like he's about to walk into a boardroom instead of off a plane where his brother was nearly killed.
The cabin door opens, and a few men in black jackets rush in immediately, their eyes scanning us and then Adrian.
One woman, older, with her hair pulled back in a tight bun, introduces herself as a nurse.
"Let me see," she says, already moving toward Adrian.