51. Chapter 51

51

Leonid

A nya walks a step ahead of me, her heels crunching faintly on the frosted path outside the restaurant. She’s stiff, nervous, and not doing a good job of hiding it. Her hands keep fidgeting with the hem of her coat, and every so often, she glances over her shoulder like she expects me to bark at her.

I don’t. Not yet.

My mind is too preoccupied with why . Why is Clara demanding to see me?

Blyat, this had better not be another one of her tests.

Anya stops abruptly, turning toward me. “They’re just outside,” she murmurs, her voice almost too low to hear as she opens the glass door leading to the balcony.

The cold hits immediately. I step out, and the world stretches in every direction—mountains blanketed in snow, the horizon endless and clear. It’s the kind of view that makes people stop, stare, and feel small.

But I don’t stop for the mountains.

I stop for her.

Clara is standing a few feet ahead, her back to me, arms crossed tightly against the cold. She’s looking down at Elijah, who is crouched in the snow, his little hands working diligently to shape something. It’s not a snowman—it’s more of a lopsided lump, but he’s completely engrossed, muttering to himself about “fixing it.”

Something in my chest tightens as Clara’s head tilts back, her face turning toward the sky. Her shoulders rise and fall with a breath that looks heavy enough to carry whatever weight she’s trying to shed. The wind picks up, sending loose strands of her rich, chestnut brown hair dancing across her cheeks, and blyat , I shouldn’t notice how the sunlight catches each strand, how it makes her look almost ethereal against the stark white landscape.

Yebat. I want to walk over and pull her against me. Feel her back against my chest. Press my face into her neck. The urge is so strong it pisses me off.

I cough, just enough to break whatever moment she’s having with the sky. Her shoulders go rigid before she turns, and those blue eyes hit me like a physical force.

She’s even more beautiful than I remembered, which is annoying as hell and puts me in an even worse mood.

Maybe it’s the cold turning her cheeks pink. Maybe it’s that stubborn set of her jaw. Maybe it’s just that she’s real, standing here, not just another memory keeping me up at night.

I walk closer. She smells like vanilla and winter, and my hands clench at my sides.

“Clara.” I keep my voice flat.

Her eyes narrow. “Leonid.” She spits my name out like it tastes bad.

I stop a few feet away, my gaze dropping briefly to the rise and fall of her chest, the flush in her cheeks. It’s infuriating how much she gets under my skin.

Elijah’s still playing in the snow behind her, talking to himself about whatever he’s building. But all I can focus on is Clara and how much I want to kiss that anger right off her face. Which is exactly the kind of thought I need to shut down. Now.

“You wanted to see me,” I remind her, watching her jaw clench tighter.

“Damn right I did,” she snaps, her voice low enough not to reach Elijah.

“Remember, kiska , you’re my captive,” I whisper fiercely back at her. “And you—”

“Let us go home,” she cuts me off before I can say “you’ll be safer here.”

“No.”

“I want answers. And I want them now.”

I arch a brow. “About?”

She throws her hands up in frustration. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m angry. Why are we here, Leonid? Why drag us across the world to… this?” She waves a hand vaguely at the pristine, snow-covered landscape as if it offends her.

I don’t answer immediately, glancing over her shoulder at Elijah. “Nothing that concerns you.”

She steps closer, close enough that I can see the tiny freckle near her right eye. “What do you know about Stephan?”

The name hits like ice water. I keep my face blank, but she catches something—she always does. Her eyes narrow into blue slits.

She steps closer still, her voice dropping to an icy hiss. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Leonid.”

“This isn’t a discussion,” I say firmly, my tone cutting.

“It damn well is,” she fires back, her cheeks flushed with more than just the cold. “You dragged us here, uprooted everything— for what? To play puppet master? To keep me and Elijah in the dark?”

I straighten to my full height, my hands sliding out of my coat pockets as I square my shoulders. Her defiance sparks something in me—a fire I don’t want to name, let alone feel. She’s right in front of me now, her anger radiating, but I don’t back away. Instead, I lean forward just enough to close the gap, meeting her glare head-on.

“You’re not in charge here, Clara,” I tell her, “You’ll stay where I put you, and you’ll do what I tell you to do. That’s how this works.”

Her breath catches, and I don’t miss the flicker of fury in her eyes as my words sink in.

“And Stephan?” I continue, my tone colder now, slicing through the frost in the air. “He isn’t your concern. Not anymore.”

She stiffens, and for a second, I think she’s going to shove me. Her lips press into a tight line, and for a moment, I think she’s about to scream. But then a soft thwack interrupts her, and I glance down to see snow sliding off my coat.

“Elijah!” she gasps, her voice laced with shock. I look over her shoulder to see him standing with another snowball already in hand, his face red with a mix of cold and frustration.

“You’re mean!” he shouts, glaring at me. “You’re making Mommy upset!”

The sting of his words is sharper than the snow, and I stand there for a beat, frozen. He’s right, and I hate how he looks at me.

I crouch slowly, my hand sinking into the snow. “Alright,” I say, my tone softer now. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Elijah blinks, surprised, before his face breaks into a grin. He hurls the next snowball, but I’m ready this time, dodging it easily. Clara watches in stunned silence as I toss one back, deliberately aiming wide.

“Elijah,” I call out, smirking. “You’re gonna need to try harder than that.”

Elijah squeals with laughter as I lob another snowball his way, deliberately missing by inches. He scrambles to gather more snow, his little hands barely able to pack it before he’s throwing again. His joy is infectious, the kind that fills the cold air and chips away at the tension lingering between me and Clara.

I glance at her, expecting her to still be fuming, but something in her expression has softened. She watches Elijah, her arms still crossed, but her breathing slows, and I can almost see the fight draining out of her.

“Clara,” I call out, my smirk widening as another snowball sails past me. “You’re just going to stand there, or are you going to pick a side?”

Her brow arches, and she tilts her head, skeptical. “You’re kidding.”

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” I pack another snowball and let it fly, this one landing squarely near Elijah’s boots. He squeals again, aiming his retaliation at my chest.

“You’re insane,” she mutters, but I catch the faintest twitch of her lips like she’s trying not to smile.

“Mommy, come on!” Elijah yells, his grin so wide it’s impossible to resist. He waves her over with one hand while clutching a lumpy snowball with the other. “You gotta help me get him!”

Clara sighs, letting out a visible breath in the cold air. She crouches, grabbing a handful of snow, her movements deliberate. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she throws it—right at me.

It hits my shoulder with a satisfying thud.

Elijah cheers like it’s the winning move in a championship game, and Clara shrugs, her lips curving into a sly smile.

“Not bad,” I say, brushing the snow off my coat. “But you’re out of practice.”

“Oh, really?” she quips, bending down to gather more snow. “Let’s see you say that after this.”

What follows is pure chaos. Snow flies in every direction—Elijah giggles uncontrollably as he tries to dodge and throw at the same time. Clara targets me with military precision, her throws fast and unrelenting, while I split my efforts between dodging her and giving Elijah a fighting chance.

At some point, I decide to shift tactics. “Elijah!” I call out, pointing toward Clara. “New target.”

He stops mid-throw, his face lighting up with mischief. “Mommy?”

Clara freezes, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t even think about it, Leonid.”

I smirk. “Think fast, Mommy .”

Before she can react, Elijah hurls his snowball at her. It hits her coat with a soft splat, and her mouth falls open in mock outrage.

“Oh, you’re both dead,” she declares, grabbing two handfuls of snow. She’s laughing now, a sound I haven’t heard from her in… forever, it feels like. The kind of laugh that makes me forget everything else for a moment.

From the corner of my eye, I catch movement near the far end of the balcony. Anya stands there, her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide as if she’s just walked into an alternate reality. She looks between me, Clara, and Elijah, clutching her clipboard like it might anchor her to sanity. I ignore her, focusing instead on the snowball Clara just launched at my chest.

The war escalates quickly, with Elijah switching sides every thirty seconds and Clara surprising me with how ruthless she can be. My coat is soaked by the time I finally manage to dodge one of her throws and retaliate with a perfect hit to her arm.

“Truce!” she calls out, laughing as she raises her hands in mock surrender.

Elijah, however, is not finished. He runs toward her, throwing another handful of snow at her legs. She scoops him up mid-charge, tickling his sides until he’s shrieking with laughter.

And for a moment, just a moment, it feels… real. Like this is normal. Like this is mine.

That thought hits me harder than any snowball. I freeze, watching them, my chest tightening in a way that’s both unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Blyat. What the hell is happening to me?

Before I can dwell on it, a voice cuts through the air, dripping with sarcasm.

“Well, well, well… what a lovely happy family.”

I turn sharply to see Maksim strolling up the path, his usual shit-eating grin plastered across his face. He’s holding a white envelope in one hand, spinning it casually between his fingers. “Didn’t know you were the snowball fight type, boss,” he adds, his tone practically oozing smugness.

Maksim waves the envelope like it’s a trophy. “Just thought you’d want to see this. But hey, don’t let me interrupt your family fun.”

“What’s in it?”

He shrugs, his grin widening. “Oh, just a little something I thought might brighten your day. Or ruin it.” His eyes flick to Clara, his expression turning almost gleeful. “Depends on your perspective, boss.”