38. Chapter 38

38

Clara

T he greenhouse smells like soil and citrus, the air thick and warm like a jungle. I roll up my sleeves, feeling the faint stickiness on my skin from the humidity. Elijah runs ahead, his little sneakers squeaking on the polished stone floor. His giggles echo, too loud for the stillness, but I can’t bring myself to shush him.

“Come on, Mommy! You have to see this!” His voice bounces off the glass panels, too loud in the serene space.

“Inside voice, little man,” I attempt to whisper, but the words tumble out in that parent-whisper way that’s about as subtle as a foghorn.

But he’s already running further into the greenhouse, the soles of his shoes too loud on the damp stone floor. I shake my head and glance at my watch—five hours since lunch. I swipe a bead of sweat from my forehead, feeling the dampness cling to my skin.

Leonid’s still not back. Probably off charming his diamond-draped blonde. Maksim’s smug words about “Fiona” replay in my head like a bad song on repeat.

Damn it. Or maybe something more colorful: Fuck Maksim. Fuck Fiona. Fuck Leonid, too, while I’m at it.

I exhale sharply, tugging my hair off my neck, like the heat—or the irritation—might evaporate if I just try hard enough. But I’m not thinking about that. Not now.

The path narrows ahead, forcing me to duck slightly under the sprawling leaves of something huge and waxy. The plant is so green it almost looks fake, its massive leaves brushing against my arms as I pass. Another step, and I have to squat a little to avoid the low-hanging branches of a tree covered in bright, unfamiliar blooms. It smells faintly of lemons and something sweeter, a sharp contrast to the damp, earthy air.

“Mommy, come on!” Elijah’s voice carries from up ahead, and when I straighten, I spot him near the far end of the greenhouse, standing in front of a tall metal door.

He bounces on his toes, his excitement practically vibrating off him as he turns to me. “He’s here, Mommy!”

The door looks like it belongs in a vault, the steel polished to a dull shine, and I glance around instinctively. No guards in sight, no one watching us. It’s strange, but then again, I’m not running. Not with Mitch still in their clinic. Not when Elijah’s smiling like this. It feels more like an open cage than a hostage situation, but the bars are still there.

“Who’s ‘he,’ buddy?” I ask, moving toward the door.

“You’ll see!” Elijah chirps, turning back toward the metal door. His excitement pulls me forward, but a soft crunch of gravel under heavy footsteps makes me freeze.

I glance over my shoulder, my pulse ticking up for a split second. A man steps out from the back of the greenhouse, his bulk impossible to miss. He’s massive—barrel-chested, with broad shoulders stretching the seams of his black T-shirt. His beard is thick and reddish, streaked with gray, and his sharp gray eyes take us in with a calm, practiced ease.

The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, revealing forearms covered in faded ink. A coiled serpent winds up one arm, a grinning skull leers from the other. He carries himself with that relaxed confidence you only see in men who know exactly how strong they are.

He bows slightly, just enough to mess Elijah’s hair with a big, calloused hand.

“Elijah,” he says, his voice low and gravelly, thick with a Russian accent. His lips quirk into a small, polite smile as his eyes meet mine.

“ Dobry vecher ,” he says, inclining his head toward me.

Elijah beams, dimples flashing as he points at the man like he’s just introduced a celebrity.

“Mommy, this is Adrian! He’s so cool. He knows everything about snakes.”

Adrian straightens, his sharp gray eyes still on me. “You brought your mama, huh?” He grins, a little sharper now, as his gaze flicks back to Elijah. “Good. She’ll love this.”

I raise a brow, watching as Adrian casually taps the door behind him, his movements smooth and unhurried. Elijah is bouncing on his toes again, vibrating with excitement.

I fight the urge to laugh under my breath. Of course, Elijah’s making friends.

Adrian pulls a key from his pocket, the metallic jingle breaking the quiet hum of the greenhouse. He slides it into the lock, the door groaning softly as it swings open. A waft of cool, stale air seeps out, faintly metallic and earthy, like wet stone and steel.

Elijah grabs my hand instinctively, his fingers warm and small against mine.

“It’s dark in there, Mommy,” he whispers, half-excited, half-wary.

The door creaks open, and the first thing that hits me is the cool, sterile scent of the room—a mix of glass cleaner and something faintly metallic. I step inside, and my breath catches.

The enclosure is enormous, stretching from floor to ceiling, made of reinforced glass so clear it feels like there’s nothing separating us from what’s inside.

“Holy—” I clamp my mouth shut before I finish, swallowing the word.

A yellow Burmese python moves sinuously, her golden-yellow scales shimmering under the specialized lighting. She’s enormous, at least fifteen feet long, coiled loosely around a thick branch and a smooth rock slab. Her head lifts slightly, her black eyes sharp and watchful as her tongue flickers in and out.

“She’s so big!” Elijah squeals, his voice bouncing off the glass.

“She’s fat,” I mutter under my breath, stepping closer despite myself.

“She’s perfect,” Adrian corrects, a hint of pride in his voice. “And very well-fed. That’s why she’s so… substantial.”

I snort at the word, unable to help myself. Substantial. Right. The snake looks like she ate a small dog for breakfast.

Elijah presses closer to the glass, his face glowing with fascination. “What’s her name again?”

“Golubka,” Adrian says, his tone softening as he crouches near the edge of the enclosure. “It means ‘little dove.’”

I raise an eyebrow, shooting him a sidelong glance. “Little dove? Seems ironic.”

Adrian chuckles, shrugging one broad shoulder. “She’s gentle… when she’s not eating.”

Golubka shifts slightly, her massive coils gleaming like polished gold under the lights. Elijah presses his face closer to the glass, his breath fogging the surface as he stares, transfixed.

“What’s your story, Leonid?” I murmur under my breath, not expecting an answer.

As if reading my mind, Adrian straightens, moving to the side of the enclosure. His boots make a soft thunk against the concrete as he crouches by a cabinet tucked neatly against the wall.

“You know,” he begins, his voice low and conversational, “this girl wasn’t always so lucky.”

I glance at him, intrigued despite myself. “Lucky? She’s a fifteen-foot python in a luxury enclosure. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘hard luck.’”

Adrian chuckles, shaking his head as he opens the cabinet door with a faint creak . “Boss found her in some backwater dump a few years ago. Small-time gangsters were skinning snakes for leather goods. She was half-dead when he got her out.”

I blink, surprised. “So, what? He rescues snakes now?”

Adrian pulls out a wooden box, its hinges squeaking. Inside comes another sound—sharp and high-pitched. Squeaking.

Elijah whirls around, his curiosity piqued. “What’s he doing, Mommy? What’s in the box?”

“Feed day,” Adrian says simply, his tone almost cheerful as he grabs a pair of tongs. He glances at me, smirking. “And yeah, he saves the odd thing. Not people usually, though. This is… different.”

Different. The word hangs in the air, and my mouth opens slightly, but no words come out.

Adrian continues as if the silence invites him to fill it. “Golubka’s gentle now, but back then, she was a mess. He didn’t have to save her. Could’ve left her like the rest.” He shrugs, then lifts the lid of the box, revealing a squirming white rat.

Elijah’s eyes widen, his excitement bubbling over. “Can I help? Mommy, can I feed her? Please?”

I glance between Elijah’s pleading eyes and Adrian’s steady, amused gaze. “Uh, I don’t think—”

“Safe as can be,” Adrian cuts in smoothly, already lifting the rat with the tongs. “Golubka’s well-behaved. You’ll like this, kid. With your permission, of course.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fine,” I sigh, already regretting it. “But if you lose a finger, it’s not my fault.”

Adrian laughs, crouching to Elijah’s level. He hands over the tongs, guiding Elijah’s small hands with care. “Just hold it steady and close to the glass. She’ll do the rest.”

Elijah hesitates and then grins as he grips the tongs, his determination shining through. “I’m doing it, Mommy!”

“You’re definitely doing something,” I mutter, fighting back a laugh.

Golubka’s head moves with deliberate slowness, her black eyes locking onto the rat. Her tongue flicks once, twice, and then—

With a sudden, smooth strike, she grabs the rat, coiling her body with a speed that belies her size. Elijah gasps, his mouth falling open in awe.

“That was awesome!” he shouts, his voice echoing off the glass.

Adrian straightens, brushing his hands off on his pants. “She’s a queen,” he says simply, his pride unmistakable.

I raise a brow, watching the snake work. “So, let me get this straight—Leonid rescues snakes from being skinned but skins his enemies without blinking?”

Adrian’s laugh is deep, filling the small space. “Something like that.” He leans casually against the glass, his dark eyes glinting. “But he doesn’t bring women or kids here. Never seen it before. You guys must be… special.”

Special. That word again.

I glance at Elijah, who’s now pointing excitedly at Golubka’s tail, oblivious to the weight of Adrian’s words. My chest tightens as I force a smile.

“Special,” I repeat softly, like saying it out loud might make it make sense.

Adrian shrugs, moving back toward the cabinet. “Boss doesn’t save much,” he says, his tone softer now. “But when he does…” He lets the thought hang, unfinished, as he locks the box away.

I exhale sharply, ruffling Elijah’s hair. “You did great, buddy.”

I watch Elijah beam at me, and all I can think is, Damn, he’s so much like him.

Fucking hell, I wonder what Leonid’s doing right now.