33. Katya

I didn’t want to leave. If I stayed, I could pretend it wasn’t over. But it was over. Yuri let me leave his side—I never thought that would happen, but it just did. I had to take care of this thing growing inside me anyways. The longer I stayed with Yuri the more likely I’d tell him, or he would just know. And I knew what he thought about that. That was non-negotiable.

Still, tears burned the back of my eyes as I packed up my things and got ready to leave. We had said goodbye for weeks and there wouldn’t be any better opportunity here. It would be surrounded by men, his men, his Bratva and he couldn’t show weakness in front of them. A chaste kiss on the cheek was all I could hope for, and probably not even that. That was worth crying over but I held them back.

If I didn’t get a hold of myself, I’d be crying like a baby, again, and Yuri hated that. If he wanted me to stay, he would have said that. He would have made me not leave him. But he didn’t, he’s fine with it ending. I played with fire, and this was the getting burned part that I knew would happen.

I wasn't sure how I was going to survive. I had plenty of memories and I had this baby growing inside me. But I have seven or eight months before the baby came before I would have any joy in my life. Losing Yuri was like having a part of me torn away. I had never loved anybody like this. I remember how it felt when Dmitry died, it hurt so much for so long, but I hadn't been capable of this kind of love back then. There wasn't going to be a minute of the day when I didn't miss him, where it wasn't painful that he wasn't there with me.

Somehow, I had to make these next seven or eight months, day by day, minute by minute. Eventually I'd have to accept it being over and quit my mourning.

I wasn’t worried about Viktor trying to sell me off again. I was about to be very pregnant with Yuri’s child— that should scare off every potential suitor and Viktor as well.

There wasn’t much to pack up, and I would need a whole new maternity wardrobe pretty soon anyways, so my two small bags were packed and set by my splintered door for someone else to carry. I sat on my bed and looked around, trying to feel something for this place but couldn’t. I was spent emotionally and ready to feel something new other than the powerlessness and doubt that had plagued me these past months. Pregnant, single, moving back to my parents’ house— that looked bad on paper, but it was actually kind of a win. I wasn’t the same person I had been when I moved out.

I closed my eyes and let myself smile at the nice memories I would take with me. There were like three of them, so it didn’t take very long. Long enough for Yuri to appear out of nowhere though when I opened my eyes.

“We need to get you a bell,” I told him only half kidding.

“You can’t forget this,” he said, walking towards me with a silver pendant hanging from his closed hand. The Russian cross with hidden knife he had given to me years ago. “I doubt you’ll need it, but just in case.”

I reached my hand out for it, but he just looked at me until I stood up, turned around and swept my hair from my neck.

Gently he swung it over my head and brought it up and clasped it behind my neck.

He cares for me, I know. But beyond handing out orgasms like candy, he cares for the Bratva more than he ever could care for me. That comes first. Above me. Above this child. That’s the way it is, and I need to accept that and move on.

It’s just really fucking hard.

So it is much easier to stay here and take whatever scraps of him he’s willing to give me, the leftovers. I would love that life; it’d be enough for me. I’m so pathetic.

I love him. That’s the problem. And I’d do anything to stay near him, near that light…

But it’s not just me anymore. That’s why I have to go.

“Thank you,” I tell him without turning around, tears burning behind my eyes again. I might be lost if I look in those cold gray eyes again. The words are a restrained politeness, so this is what replaces all the intimacy we’ve shared. This is the new normal for us.

“Nikita will drive you,” he says, and I hear his footsteps leaving.

I have the sudden urge to write him a letter, to give something personal to him instead of this terrible politeness. I scribble a note, it’s not personal, but it is with love. He can close one more door and secure more of his strangle hold on the Bratva with this. It’s what he wants more than anything. More than me.

He’s welcome to it.

Nikita clears his throat behind me, both my bags in his hands. He’s handsome with a confident grin— no wonder Yuri and Anton like him. He’s almost the spitting image of Maxim, they might have been twins.

I follow him down the stairs and out to a waiting limousine where he packs the bags in the trunk and opens the door for me to sit in the back.

The privacy screen is down, and I feel like talking to someone, not riding in silence. “I’m Katya,” I blurt out.

“I know,” he smiles, his eyes playful in the rearview mirror. He reminds me so much of maxim. They could be twins by looks but it’s the demeanor, too. Like he has an amusing secret that nobody in the world but him knows. Hence the sly, almost smug smile all the time.

“How’s that?” I ask, playing the game to pass the time.

“I work for your father currently,” he answered then corrected himself. “Well, I’ve been watching him and his men for Anton the past few weeks. I don’t work for him, or you, but Anton.”

“How’s that?” I ask, playfully.

“Anton is like a father to me, or a brother. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him, but I don’t know Yuri, I don’t know you, and Viktor, I don’t know him either.”

“You’re independent then? Except for Anton?”

“That’s fair. I never had to follow orders, and I’ve never had to kiss anybody’s ass and that’s the way I like it.”

“You keep your own counsel.”

He smiled, liking the way that sounded. It was refreshing for someone to be so open and honest about his loyalties and where they lay.

I liked Nikita.

We chatted a bit more, about nothing very important then I slept for a while.

I felt sleepy and depressed, which was perfectly fine. It’s natural to be depressed at the end of things like I was and I decided I’d allow myself the car ride to wallow in it, then turn the page on it.

Hopefully.

Pretty soon we arrived at Viktor’s house, and it looked much smaller than I remembered. I went up to my room and sat on the windowsill, looking over the back yard. The trellis I escaped from was just below me and the willow tree Yuri fucked me under still sat in the same space.

Nothing has changed, yet everything has changed.

I expected Nikita with my bags but instead it was Viktor setting them down near my bed. “Are you back for good?” He asked.

“I’m not sure. I was thinking you and I might do some traveling. You could step back from the Bratva, be a grandfather,” I tell him smiling. The easiest way possible to break the news and I hope he goes for it.

“Truly? We should celebrate, champagne!”

“Just water for me. And if we could celebrate later, after a nap? That’d be great for me. We’ll talk about traveling somewhere before I get too fat.”

“Yes, no champagne for you. Sure, sleep. There’s time, plenty of time,” he said, leaving me alone, closing the door behind him.

Everything would work out.

Not the way I wanted it to but that’s life.