3. April

3

APRIL

In this new life of mine, I sleep like the dead. Because being a new mother is exhausting and because, frankly, Mrs. Tanner works me like a greyhound. Unless Nugget starts crying or the building is on fire, I don't even twitch.

Which is why, when I wake up to absolute silence, I just know that something's wrong.

I don't hold my breath. Instead, I pretend I'm still deep asleep, coaching the rise and fall of my chest. Inwardly, I'm freaking out, but I force myself to swallow it down. Don't you go into hysterics now, Flowers. If you start screaming your head off, there's a non-zero chance it'll get your head blown off.

That's when I hear it: a creak in the floorboards.

I was never a big fan of firearms. Call me delicate, but I just don't like the idea of something made specifically to kill.

But when Yuri offered me his spare gun, I took it.

Now, I'm glad I did. I wait for the creaking to reveal the intruder's position, all the while forcing my breaths not to speed up.

Then I act.

I whip the gun out from under my pillow and aim. "Get out or I shoot."

It's too dark to see much, but by the single ray of moonlight in the room, I see the intruder put his hands up. But the gesture is too slow for fear. Somehow, it feels mocking.

"I just want to talk," a male voice says, not at all concerned.

It sends a chill down my spine—that unfazed tone. So utterly out of place. "So talk, and then get out."

When the intruder speaks next, I can practically hear the smile in his voice. "I've been wanting to meet you for a long time, Ms. Flowers," he says. "I must compliment you on your getaway. It must have been far from easy, shaking off the infamous Matvey Groza."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"No? Let's see if I can jog your memory: Bratva pakhan , all-around dangerous guy… and of course, your baby's daddy dearest."

The second he mentions my child, I freeze. I throw a quick glance at the crib, still safely tucked on my side of the room. But it won't be safe for much longer—not with this man standing between us and the door.

Who is he? I can't help but ask myself. Why does he know us? Why does he know Matvey ?

And most importantly… What does he want?

"Oh, the tricks our hearts can play on us. The allure of the bad boy, right?" he jokes. "Absolutely irresistible. No wonder a good girl like you got roped in."

"I hope you didn't come all this way just to tell me how badly I need therapy. Believe me, I'm aware."

A sonorous chuckle. "And she's funny, too! All the more reason that sourpuss doesn't deserve you. You're wasted on him, my dear."

"And let me guess: I should pick you instead?"

"You flatter me," the intruder demurs. "But I'm afraid I'm old enough to be your father."

Another chill, this time stronger. Whoever this man is, he isn't half as harmless as he pretends to be. All the jokes, the fa?ade—it's just another one of his weapons.

Just like the gun in his grip.

It's so dark, I almost didn't notice it. If the clouds hadn't shifted and let the moon pick out the glint of steel concealed in his hand, perhaps I never would have. Not until it was too late.

But he keeps pretending not to have it, so I keep pretending not to see it. "Then I'm afraid I fail to see the point of our conversation."

"On the contrary, Ms. Flowers: I believe we can help each other."

Buy time. Whatever happens, just buy time. "How?" I ask, using my free hand to reach for my phone under the covers.

"Let's see," he hums. "First off, you need protection. After all, you've got a bone to pick with the most dangerous man in New York."

"I don't have a bone to pick with him."

"Then he has a bone to pick with you," the man rephrases. "A baby-shaped one, I'd say. Surely you've heard of the search parties?"

Of course I've heard of the search parties. All this time, Matvey has done nothing but look for his daughter. For us.

"What do you think is going to happen when he finds you?" he asks, voice dropping to a hiss. For the first time since this conversation started, there isn't a trace of humor in his words. "What do you think he's going to do to the woman who beat him at his own game? To the illegitimate heir he never wanted? … Are you laughing, Ms. Flowers?"

I can't help it: I am. It's a sudden, bursting sound that catches even me by surprise. Because certainly this man can't be suggesting what I think he is.

Matvey, wanting to harm us?

I'd sooner accept the ocean going dry.

He may be an asshole. He may have promised me the world and thrown me away like a broken doll right after. He may be unfit to raise my child, to build the home she deserves.

But I know he'd never hurt us. Never.

Not on purpose, at least.

"I don't need your protection."

That's when I make my worst mistake: I forget.

I forget about the phone under the covers. I forget about the weapon in the stranger's hands. Most of all, I forget to keep my emotions in check.

I forget and cock my gun.

"Get out," I spit.

It's a misstep. I should have kept him talking and bought enough time to text Yuri. But now, it's too late.

The shadows around me grow, multiply: men, a dozen of them. Where did they come from? When ?

That's when I realize: I had it wrong all along.

I wasn't the one distracting him.

He was the one distracting me .

"What a shame," the man sighs. "I was hoping you'd do this of your own free will. Oh, well." He makes a single gesture in the dark, and all at once, the figures loom closer.

That's when I turn to my last card: begging.

"Stop!" I blurt out. "Please. We don't want any trouble."

"Then you shouldn't have gotten involved with Matvey Groza."

The men descend on me. I see it play out as if in slow motion: a thousand shadows, falling upon me as one.

I decide to pull the trigger, but again, I'm too late.

My finger twitches, but before I can even squeeze it all the way down, the gun is slapped out of my grip.

As the back of someone's hand descends at the base of my neck, one last thought crosses my mind.

My baby.

I reach for her.

But darkness takes me first.