58. Natalia

58

NATALIA

Mila and I have been sitting on the patio for so long that my legs are going numb. She doesn't wander and neither does Remi—both of them stay touching me at all times. Even when Misha meanders down to the pool, Remi sits glued to my side, sensing that my need is greater at the moment.

The tech room is close enough that we can hear Shura shouting through the walls. "Why the fuck haven't you found her yet?! Tracking her cell phone shouldn't take this damn long!"

It's been hours of this—quiet stretches of nothing, then Shura losing his shit, then Andrey kicking him out again.

Someone steps onto the patio. Mila and I look up hopefully, praying it's Andrey with news. But it's just Leonty, looking somber and on edge as he walks around to us.

"Have you two eaten anything?"

Mila shakes her head for the both of us. "Not hungry. How's it going in there?"

"Shura's got the tech team shitting themselves. Andrey forbade him from coming back in there." Leonty sighs. "I think Shura knows he's not helping. He went quiet and stormed off."

Mila's hand tightens around mine. "He's just scared. Men like him aren't used to being scared."

Patting Remi's head, I slowly push myself off the patio swing. My legs complain with pins and needles, but I ignore the feeling and stretch.

I limp around slowly until the feeling comes back. I oughta move or run or, better yet, sleep, but I'm terrified I'll miss something if I go. So I pace the same four feet back and forth and back and forth.

Remi follows behind me, and even Misha is on the same page. He's on his tenth or hundredth or thousandth circle around the pool.

"They have to find something soon, right?" I ask no one in particular.

Leonty sits down next to Mila and wraps an arm around her. "If anyone can get Katya back, it's Andrey."

Misha climbs up onto the porch and strokes Remi's head absentmindedly. I touch his shoulder, if only because it's so much easier to put on a brave face when you're trying to be strong for someone else.

"I'm sure we'll hear someth?—"

Before I can finish my sentence, a commotion explodes inside the house.

Without hesitating, I sprint into the manor and push my way into the tech room. Andrey is standing with his back to me, leaning over one of his men as they both peer at a large screen.

I can make neither heads nor tails of what they're looking at. Complex computer code ripples across the monitor, a string of numbers that makes absolutely no sense until?—

Coordinates, I realize. It's a set of coordinates.

Andrey looks at me with a grim steel in his eyes. Then his gaze flits over my shoulder. "Leonty, go get Shura. We know where she is."

I slip further into the room and squeeze Andrey's hand. "Is it really her?""

"I think so. Her phone was dumped several miles from her apartment, but we managed to hack into surveillance footage and security systems in the area. They've got her in an abandoned flop house on the outskirts of the city."

He presses a button on the keyboard and the numbers disappear, affording me a grainy view of a depressing building losing a long war with weeds, graffiti, and despair.

"She's in there ?"

"She's being guarded. We haven't determined how many yet."

"Is Nikolai behind this?" I ask.

"It can't be anyone else."

"I don't understand, though," I protest. "What would Nikolai stand to gain from kidnapping Katya? How does he even know about Katya when he barely knows about me?"

Andrey's eyes are troubled when he forces them to mine. "He must know more than we think he does."

That sends a tremor of fear shooting through me. But before I can process it, Shura's storming into the room. "Where is she?"

Andrey points. "We have a location. Are you ready?"

Shura is already backing out of the room. "We leave in ten."

He disappears and Leonty follows him out. I cling to Andrey's arm, too many fears to choose from swirling in my head.

Andrey seems to know exactly what I'm thinking. "I will be careful, lastochka . You have nothing to fear."

Oh, how wrong he is.

"Andrey, please…"

"I'll get her back safely."

"I need you to be safe, too."

His eyes soften as he pulls me to him, pressing a tender kiss to my lips. "I'm still wearing your locket, little bird. How can I not be?"

With that, he's gone, leaving me with nothing to do but wait.

I retreat back to the patio where Mila's still sitting with Misha and Remi. Leonty must've filled her in before he left, because she's ashen-faced and picking at her cuticles.

This time, I take her hand and pull it onto my lap. She gives me a distracted smile that betrays just how worried she is.

"Do you ever get used to this?" I ask. "Waiting here when you know the people you love are in danger?"

"I wouldn't know. I never had anyone I cared about before now," she admits softly. "I never had anyone to wait for."

Her voice breaks on the last word. I squeeze her hand tighter.

Misha looks at the two of us, something unreadable crossing his face. Then he bolts to his feet. "I should've gone with them."

"No!" Mila and I cry at the same time.

"It's too dangerous, Misha," I add. "And you're?—"

"Don't tell me I'm a child. I'm not like other kids my age." His eyes flash defiantly and, despite the fact that I know he's right, I can't fathom letting him walk into any danger.

"But you're still a kid. You deserve to be protected."

From danger. From the realities of this world. Misha shouldn't even know this kind of dark underbelly exists.

"I want to earn my place. I want to be the one protecting the people I care about."

The frustration in his voice is obvious. And it terrifies me.

Nervous as I was to see Andrey go and scared as I am that he'll be hurt—imagining Misha out there in the field, exposed to guns and enemies and death, hurts so much worse.

My hand curls protectively around my stomach. It's the same feeling I get every time I consider that my child won't be safe in this world.

I've never let myself really think about it.

But it's here now.

And it isn't going away.

"Maybe one day, you'll get to," I tell him slowly, mostly to keep my voice from shaking. "If that's your choice. But not until you're a man. Not until you're old enough to understand the risk you're taking."

"I understand now."

"How can you?" I argue as Mila shifts uncomfortably at my side. "You're only fourteen. You've faced a lot in your life, but you don't have to anymore. You can be a kid now."

His jaw flexes with all the teenage angst he's been bottling up. "I'll do what I want."

"Not while I'm taking care of you."

He whirls on me, red-faced. "What gives you the right to tell me what to do? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Your mother!"

Mila sucks in a breath, but Misha and I are frozen, staring at each other as the words ricochet between us. I open my mouth to take it back, but… I can't.

No—I won't.

Instead, I kneel in front of him. "I know I'm not your real mother, Misha. But I do sometimes feel like I am." His face is blank, unreadable. I have no idea what he's thinking, so I speak the truth. "You are mine to protect. Mine ." I blink back tears. "You may hate me for it, but…at least you'll be safe."

Without warning, he throws his arms around me and hugs me tight. As soon as I hold him close, some missing piece of my heart clicks into place. Things feel right in a way I've never felt before.

When Misha and I finally pull apart, Mila's dabbing her eyes with the corner of her blouse. Pretty sure Misha's eyes are wet, too, because he grunts something about taking another walk around the pool and darts off without meeting my gaze.

Mila takes my hand once more and we sit like that. Neither of us move for a long, long time. Remi pants, Misha does laps around the pool, and nobody breathes a word.

I don't know how long we've been still as statues before my phone shatters the silence. "It's Andrey." My hands are shaking so badly that I almost drop it. "Hello?"

"We've got her, lastochka ," Andrey's voice is restrained but triumphant. "She's shaken but unharmed."

"Oh, thank God!" My lungs expand with the first real breath I've taken since the moment we opened Kat's apartment door.

My phone starts beeping with an incoming call. It's Aunt Annie. But I swipe it away and concentrate on Andrey's voice. Mila is standing now, too, a smile on her face.

"Did they put up a fight?"

"They—"

The steady beep-beep-beep of another incoming call has me pulling my ear from the phone, losing Andrey's answer.

Aunt Annie again.

I decline the call a second time and put the phone back to my ear. "I'm sorry—what were you saying? Were there a lot of men?"

"Only four, it turns out. She wasn't as well-guarded as we thought. We were in and out in under twenty minutes."

I can hear the concern in his voice. He's questioning why the rescue mission was so easy.

Beep-beep-beep. Okay. Now, I'm worried.

"Andrey, I'm sorry, Aunt Annie's calling. It's the third time…"

"It's okay. We'll talk when I get home."

Home . He's coming home.

I hang up and call Aunt Annie back. The call connects.

"Hello, Natalia."

I go cold, goosebumps rippling down my arms because…

That's not Aunt Annie.

The voice on the other end of the line is silky smooth and deeply masculine. And he knows my name.

"Who is this? Where is my aunt?"

Mila stands up, mouthing questions at me I can't answer. My heart is thrumming erratically again. The relief I felt a moment ago has all but disappeared.

"She's at St. Vincent's Hospital. You might want to rush over." The words are tinged with sick amusement. "She's not doing so well."

"Who are you?!" I scream, sending Mila running into the house for help before she even knows what's happening.

"My name is Slavik," he says with a little chuckle. "Say hello to my son for me, will you?"

Then the line goes dead.