He's still in his tactical gear, all black and lethal. There's something dark on his sleeve that might be blood. His massive frame fills the doorway like a wall we'll never get past.
Behind him, Danil appears, his expression carefully neutral. Two guards flank them, blocking any possible escape route. Not that we could run anyway. Aleksandr could probably catch all three of us before we made it down five steps.
His gaze locks onto mine and holds. Something flickers across his face. Pain, maybe. Or betrayal. It's gone so fast I might haveimagined it, replaced by that cold, controlled mask he wears when he's deciding someone's fate.
The silence stretches between us like a chasm. I want to say something, explain, apologize, and defend myself. But my throat has closed up and my tongue feels like lead, and all I can do is stand there on the stairs with my parents behind me and watch as the man I love looks at me like I'm a stranger.
When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet. Deadly calm. The kind of quiet that comes before explosions.
"Going somewhere?"
52
ALEKSANDR
I've faced down armed men without flinching. I've negotiated deals worth millions with a steady hand. I've stared death in the face more times than I can count.
None of it prepared me for this.
"Breathe, baby," I say, gripping Lena's hand as another contraction rolls through her. "Just breathe."
She shoots me a look that could melt steel. "Iambreathing, Aleksandr. What do you think I've been doing for the last four hours?"
The doctor hovers near the foot of the bed, checking monitors with practiced efficiency. My shirt is soaked through with sweat despite the cool temperature. Every time Lena gasps or tenses, my heart stops.
"You're doing great," the doctor says. "We're making excellent progress."
Lena's grip on my hand loosens as the contraction passes. She falls back against the pillows, her hair damp against herforehead. Even exhausted and in pain, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"I still haven't forgiven you," she says suddenly, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.
I freeze. "What?"
"I haven't forgiven you." She turns her head to look at me. "For six months ago."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Six months ago. When I found her trying to sneak her parents out of the basement. When everything came to a head.
"Lena—"
Another contraction cuts me off. Her whole body goes rigid. She makes a sound that tears something loose in my chest. I hold her hand, feeling utterly useless, while the doctor murmurs encouragement.
When it finally releases her, Lena is breathing hard. "You scared the shit out of me," she says quietly. "I thought you were going to kill them, Aleksandr. My parents. I thought you were going to make me watch."
The memory is sharp and clear. Finding her in the stairwell, her parents behind her, all of them frozen. The rage that had burned through me. Not at the theft, but at the thought of her leaving.
"I would never?—"
"I didn't know that then." Her eyes are bright with unshed tears. "You'd just gotten all your memories back. You were the Pakhan again, fully. And I was trying to help my parents escape."
I pull a chair close and sit, bringing us eye to eye.
She takes a shaky breath. "When you found us in that stairwell, the look on your face…"
"You were trying to leave." The words come out rougher than I intend. "Taking your parents, yes. But leaving me too."
"What choice did I have? They're my parents, Aleksandr. And I knew what the Bratva does to thieves."
Another contraction builds. This one seems worse. She grips my hand hard enough that I feel bones grinding together, but I don't pull away.