70. Natalia

70

NATALIA

"We have to be quick and quiet," Yelena explains, dragging me towards the back of the house. "I'm going to need to take you through the servants' entry. Then I can sneak you through the side gate."

"But there are cameras everywhere. What about?—"

"I've disabled them," she interrupts. "They won't know until it's too late."

Too late . Too late to say goodbye. Too late to undo the deaths I've caused.

I don't realize I'm slowing down until Yelena snatches up my hand in both of hers and squeezes hard enough to frighten me. "Listen to me, child. You don't have time. No time for questions, no time to get your things, no time to say goodbyes. We need to go." Her eyes are wide. "Now or never."

She doesn't wait for me to answer. Keeping a vise grip on my forearm, she starts to drag me into the manor.

"Yelena," I whisper as we slip inside, "why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?"

"Because I don't want you to go through what I went through." Her hand is so tight around my wrist that it's starting to hurt. "Because I don't want you to lose the twins, and I certainly don't want them to lose you."

God, the twins. Two souls coming to life inside of me. Two little babies that are relying on me to protect them, to keep them safe so they can have a chance to?—

Wait.

Wait.

I grind to a halt and rip my hand free of Yelena's claws. "Yelena, how did you know I was having twins?"

Outside, the sun is shining and birds are chirping.

But in this hallway, I feel a kind of chill I've never felt in my life.

She blinks the question away in irritation. "You told me. Now, come?—"

I don't let her grab me again. "No, I didn't. I just found out myself."

The sweat on her brow drips down the crook of her gnarled nose. "You did tell me, child," she hisses impatiently. "You're confused. Now, come . We're wasting precious time."

Why was Yelena so quick to help me?

Why is she in such a rush?

The questions I didn't stop to ask outside are stacking up in front of me, becoming too big to summit.

"Come, Natalia!" she growls. "If you don't make that car, you'll have missed your chance to save your children."

What's wrong with you? You trusted her all this time. What's changed now?

I don't have time to find answers before the infirmary door opens just down the hall and Misha walks out, rubbing his drowsy eyes.

Yelena drops my hand immediately.

"Natalia!" Misha rushes forward and throws his arms around me.

"Misha…" I croak, breathing in the familiar warmth of his downy hair.

"You're safe! I was so scared."

I draw back a little and cup his face. "I'm fine. Andrey and Shura got me out in time. How are you?"

"I'm fine. I was with Remi. He's doing better."

The smile on his face gives me hope. "You'll look after him, won't you?"

Misha frowns. I bite my tongue, cursing myself internally. His gaze slides from me to Yelena, who's lingering in my periphery, wringing her hands anxiously.

"Why do I need to look after him?" Misha asks. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere!" Yelena answers for me. It would have been better if she'd just let me handle this. Her words are far too harsh. Misha is too perceptive. "She needs rest, some peace and quiet."

His eyebrows pinch together and they refuse to iron out. "Let me come with you."

"No, that's okay," I protest. "You should rest, too."

"I've been resting for hours. I want to do something. Let me walk with you."

He's not looking at me when he asks, though.

He's looking at Yelena.

"Misha, please. Just trust me. Go to your room and get some proper rest. On a real bed. You're dead on your feet."

He shakes his head, looking from me to Yelena again and again. "Something is going on. You're going to do something you shouldn't be doing."

" Prygat! " Yelena snaps. "This doesn't concern you, boy."

"Yelena!" I gasp at the venom in her voice.

She whirls towards me, spittle flying as she jabs a finger at Misha. "Don't trust him, Natalia. The boy's a spy! He's been informing on you for months, I know it!"

"Yelena, that's enough. Misha isn't a spy."

But she is backing away from him, glaring at him like he's the devil himself. "You're blinded by your kind heart, Natalia. The boy is Nikolai's man."

Misha hasn't moved since she accused him. His face is pale and his hands are balled into fists. "Natalia, get away from her," he spits.

"What in the—? Both of you, stop," I beg. "This is what Nikolai does. He's turning us against one another and he's not even here. Don't give him that kind of power."

But I might as well be screaming into the void for all the good it does me. Yelena and Misha aren't listening.

Misha's eyes narrow, and he shifts closer to me. "Remi never liked Yelena. You remember that, right? He always growls whenever she's close. Just like he did in the hospital when that ‘nurse' showed up."

He's not lying. Remi and Yelena never warmed to each other.

"Misha," I try again, "please, just trust?—"

"Enough of this!"

I glance back just in time to see Yelena swing something large and heavy towards us. I jump out of the way and Misha stumbles back, but the butt of the antique fire poker stabs him in the shoulder.

He lets out a strangled cry and drops to the floor, blood already bubbling up from the wound.

"Yelena!" I scream. "What the hell?!"

But Yelena isn't listening. She's advancing on Misha with the poker raised, ready to strike again.

I grab a hold of it and try to pry it out of her hands, but for an old woman, she's fucking strong.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" I cry, no longer caring if we're overheard. "He's a child!"

"And you're a fool!" Yelena shrieks. "If you don't come with me now, all will be lost." She drops the poker and snares my wrist again, fingers pressing down hard on the bruises she left there.

"Yelena, you're hurting me?—"

"We don't have time. We must?—"

But her words are cut off by the crack of ceramic as it splinters against the back of her head.

Yelena's eyes roll backwards and she collapses to the ground, just as thundering footsteps echo down the hall.

Seconds later, Andrey, Shura, and Leonty flood into the living room. "What the fuck happened here?" Andrey demands, gawking at Yelena's form with an unreadable look on his face.

I can barely make my lips form the words. "Misha cracked a vase over her head."

Misha's temples are slick with sweat. He's shaking from head to toe, but he doesn't look remotely apologetic. "Yeah," he confesses. "And I'd do it again."

Shura and Leonty scoop up Yelena's limp form and move her to the sofa. Andrey's face is pure wrath as he turns on Misha. He looks terrifying. If I were Misha, I'd be shitting my pants.

But Misha presses his bleeding shoulder back, wincing only slightly, and meets Andrey's eyes. Neither one says a word.

I jump in between them. "Andrey?—"

He doesn't look at me, but he does hold up a hand. Despite myself, I fall silent. He's radiating a dangerous energy and it's impossible to ignore.

"Why?" he snarls.

"She was up to something," Misha says evenly. "I don't trust her."

Shura places a pillow under Yelena's head and straightens up to look over at the confrontation unfolding before us. "She's been with us a lot longer than you, boy."

Misha whirls around, glaring indignantly between Andrey and Shura. "That doesn't make her trustworthy. She accused me of being a spy, but I think she's the spy."

"Why do either of you have to be a spy?" I cry out. "Misha, you misunderstood what was happening, okay? This is all just a big, stupid mistake!"

"She was trying to get you to leave!" Misha insists, blowing my cover in one simple sentence. "She was trying to smuggle you out of here. Why would she do that when this is the safest place for you?"

My jaw falls open as every pair of eyes in the room swivels to me. I find myself grappling for words, searching desperately for an alibi.

"Nat…" Leonty's voice is soft and disbelieving. "Is that true?"

Yelena stirs and Misha looks at her with disgust. He'd kill her right now if we let him.

"It was my idea to leave," I choke out. "If you're gonna blame anyone, blame me."

Leonty is the only one who looks remotely shocked by my admission. Shura and Andrey are expressionless.

"I still don't trust her!" Misha exclaims, breaking the tense silence. "She was always whispering and creeping around at weird hours. I saw her talking to someone on a phone in the laundry room once. She got mad when she saw me there."

My stomach roils. Andrey sees the discomfort on my face and scowls. "What is it, Natalia?"

"I… uh… it could be nothing." Swallowing hard, I glance at Yelena, who's moaning softly on the couch, not quite conscious yet. "She just… She never liked me coming into the laundry room. She claimed it was because of all the chemicals."

Andrey and Shura exchange a glance, having a silent conversation. A moment later, Andrey points his chin and Shura nods, disappearing through the open archway in the direction of the kitchen.

"I'm not lying," Misha insists. "And I'm not a spy. I just?—"

"It's okay, Misha," Andrey interrupts. "I believe you."

"You do?"

"Let me be clear: I believe you're not a spy. I believe that you believe everything you just told us." Andrey's eyes are still cold. "But that doesn't mean you're right."

Misha's shoulders slump. He opens his mouth to retort, but before he can say anything, Shura enters the living room.

He's carrying a small, black phone in his hand.

"I found this stashed at the back of the laundry cabinet," he says darkly.

I feel like I'm going to be sick. I glance down at my wrist and see the bruises Yelena left there. Five purple ovals marking my skin.

"Anything on there?" Andrey asks.

"Only one outgoing call on the contact log. It was placed about forty-five minutes ago."

"Call the number," Andrey orders.

Shura dials and transfers the call to speaker. The rings echo harshly, magnified in the taut stillness. And then, someone picks up.

"Yelena," a deep, familiar voice hisses, "where the fuck are you? You were supposed to have delivered her by now."

Shock and rage ripples across Andrey's face as he takes the phone from Shura's hand.

"Yelena!" the voice barks again. "Where?—"

Andrey smashes the phone onto the floor and stomps it into pieces. "Fuck!" he roars so loudly that Yelena's eyes fly open. She scrambles around in a panic, but her limbs are sluggish and her mouth flaps without any words coming out.

Andrey descends on her like a nightmare. "How long? How fucking long have you been spying for my father?"

Of course. That's why the caller's voice sounded so familiar. It was the same voice that told me my aunt was in the hospital.

Slavik did this.

Yelena looks towards me as though I can explain what's happening. For a moment, I feel only pity for her. For this bitter, old woman surrounded by three hulking men who might kill her if she says one wrong word.

Then her eyes slide to the arm I've got wrapped protectively around Misha.

Her face twists and morphs. The tender, maternal woman I had come to know is gone.

Now that I'm searching for it, I see the anger there—the rage so deep and sudden that I clutch Misha closer like I can protect him from it.

"From day one," she spits at last. She lets out a cackle of hard laughter. "You cost me my family. And you were egotistical enough to believe that I would simply accept it."

Andrey's jaw shifts. "This is about Yegor."

"Yegor died fighting for his Bratva," Shura declares. "For his pakhan ."

Yelena glowers at him. "My husband died following the orders of an inexperienced, foolish boy who didn't know what he was doing."

Andrey is quiet for a while. No one else dares to breathe. My heartbeat stills in my chest when he unsheathes a knife from his hip and toys with it. Twists it this way and that.

He's never looked colder.

Without looking up, he orders, "Leonty, get Misha and Natalia out of here."

Misha tries to steer my hand, but I'm frozen on the spot. "You can't just kill her."

"She's a traitor. She was going to deliver you straight to my psychopathic father. She's been spying on me, on you, on all of us," he seethes, his control slipping. "After all this fucking time… death is a kindness. This is the Bratva way."

"Then find a better way!"

" Lastochka —"

"Enough!" It's Yelena who yells, cutting through our argument in a shrill voice strained with pain. She lifts herself off the couch with difficulty and looks towards me. "I don't need you to defend me, girl."

"I'm not defending you," I throw back at her with disgust. "You deserve to be punished. But I don't believe in senseless violence or unnecessary murder."

"No?" Yelena asks, a vicious smile curling over her lips. "Well, I do."

I see a flash of silver at her side and suddenly, she's lunging at me.

I have only enough time to step back, Misha's arms tightening around me, as the mouth of her gun rises and rises until I'm looking down the barrel.

Andrey moves first.

He grabs Yelena by the hair. Her eyes bulge cartoonishly as he yanks her backward, twisting her arm at the same time. The handgun she's carrying drops, skitters across the floor, and settles to a stop at my feet.

Using her hair to steer, Andrey twists her around to face him. Then he slashes his blade across her throat, sending blood spurting out in nauseating red bouts.

Yelena is dead before she hits the ground.

Bile rises in my throat. I taste the acid on my tongue. Her blood is painted across Andrey's face and hands as he turns to me. "Natalia…" he rasps, taking a step in my direction.

It happened so damn fast. So… easily.

A few seconds and a life was extinguished, just like that.

As fast as my father's.

As fast as my mother's.

Horror claws its way up my spine and I back away from Andrey. "Don't come any closer."

My voice is clear and strong. But my whole body is shaking violently. The blood on his face distorts him into a monster that I cannot recognize. A beast I cannot love.

He steps over the dead woman at his feet and keeps moving towards me.

Dreams melt into a reality so thick and viscous that I can't tell where one stops and the other begins. The next thing I know, I'm picking up the gun at my feet…

And pointing it directly at Andrey.

It's not just him I don't recognize—I don't recognize myself, either.

My world has been ripped off its axis. Up is down and down is up. My loved ones are enemies. Away is safe, and here is…

Here is death. Death and blood.

"Natalia, I know you're scared, but you have to trust me. Put down the gun." He takes another step forward.

"Stay away from me!" I scream, flying back in panic.

But my heel catches the baseboard and, in my surprise, my hand clenches automatically.

The gun fires.

Andrey glances down at his torso in surprise as blood begins to bloom on the white of his shirt.

The knife clatters from his hand and he drops to his knees. Misha and Leonty and Shura close in around him.

My entire world coalesces down to a single word. A single instinct.

Run.

Or death will catch you, too.

TO BE CONTINUED

Andrey and Natalia's story concludes in Book 2 of the Kuznetsov Bratva duet, EMERALD VICES.

Check it out!