55. Andrey

55

ANDREY

"She left?" I storm into Annie's room, waving the note Natalia left on her pillow for me. "She fucking left?!"

Annie just sighs. "What did you expect her to do? She told you she needed space."

"I thought she'd move into another room. Or the pool house, even. I didn't think she'd disappear and take the kids with her."

Annie looks at me over the rim of her glasses. "The only thing she's concerned about right now is keeping her children safe. As far as she's concerned, that means keeping them as far from your world as possible."

My fists unfurl as I drop into the chair next to Annie's bed. "Fuck!" I bellow, spewing out a fraction of my pent-up frustration. "What do I do now?" I finally release the crumpled letter, letting it float to the floor like the last withered leaf of autumn.

"You could try giving her what she wants," Annie suggests softly. "Misha and Remi are with her—they'd never let anything happen to her. Not to mention the security detail she took. She'll be fine."

I glance out the window and the lawn looks painfully empty. Misha would be out on a morning walk with Remi by now. It's a nice morning, so Natalie might've taken the twins out to the grass, spread a blanket beneath a shade tree.

But there's no teenager running around with a ball. No dog barking. No sounds of chatter or laughter or infants crying.

I inhale sharply and let it out slowly, trying to soothe the restlessness in my bones. It doesn't do a damn bit of good.

Nothing does, and I'd know—I've tried it all.

Screaming at the ceiling. Pacing the empty hallways. Hefting around the weight of my useless phone in my pocket, trying to pretend there's a chance Natalia might change her mind and call me to come pick her up.

When my willpower snaps, I pull my phone from my pocket, except… it won't turn on.

I jog to the kitchen for a charger. Maybe Natalia did call. Maybe she wants me to come pick her up, but my stupid phone was dead.

I jostle from foot to foot, waiting for the screen to light up. Before it does, Shura strolls into the kitchen. "I heard Mila's out of the hospital. Is she around?"

"She's with Leonty." It's good news, but I wave him off, smashing the home button on my phone. "My fucking phone died."

"You expecting an important call or something?"

I shoot him a glare. "Natalia could have tried to call. I don't even know how long it's been dead."

When was the last time I used it? I've barely touched it since last night. Did she try to text me? Did she want to talk, but I missed it? Is that why she left?

"I'm sure she's fine," Shura offers.

But I don't hear a word as my phone lights up, and… Fuck . Seventeen missed calls.

None of them are from Natalia, but Leif called. And called. And called. The last one was only six minutes ago.

"What is it?" Shura leans closer. "Is everything okay?"

I'm about to call Leif back when my phone buzzes with a text.

LEIF: attacked 8&##s inju8r#ed

" PRYGAT !" I roar, resisting the urge to fling my phone across the kitchen.

Instead, I fling it at Shura. A second after reading it, his eyes zip to mine. "We have to move fast."

I'm already halfway out the door.

Shura catches up in the driveway, and we leap into the car. He cues up the locations of the cars that Natalia and her security detail took.

Every minute of driving without finding them is agony. I rip around corners and scream down the straightaways, my only thoughts for my family.

And then we find it.

The wreckage.

"Shit," Shura curses. "I think that Jeep is Olaf's."

But I'm looking past the Jeep to the car wrapped around a huge oak further down the road.

I slam to a stop and shoot out of the vehicle. Shura yells something about backup, but I don't need backup. All I need is to get to the scrap metal that once held my family.

"Natalia!" I roar. "Natalia!"

As I approach, I hear the whine of an engine. And the wail of an infant.

My heart is lodged in my throat as I round the car and nearly drop to my knees with relief. Misha and Natalia are huddled on the ground. Natalia is holding the babies, her head dipped over them. They're dirty and bleeding and shaking, but alive. So fucking alive.

This time, I do drop to my knees. But only Misha and Remi look up at me. Natalia doesn't lift her head. She's too busy sobbing into Sarra's pink blanket that is now brown with dust and grease.

That's when I realize…

The blue bundle is empty.

Where is Grigory?

Where is my son?

Natalia is still sobbing, her arms shaking.

I look to Misha. "What happened?"

"They came after us," he rasps. His face is a mess of dry blood and wet tears. "They rammed into our car… They took Grigory…"

It's too horrible to be true. Too much to process.

"Natalia," I whisper. It's a plea. A question.

Is it true?

Is he okay?

Natalia just sobs harder, squeezing Sarra to her chest. That's all the answer I need.

"We're going to sort this all out, I promise you. We're going to get him back."

We have to.

There's no other choice.

I wave Misha and Remi back towards my car and scoop Natalia into my arms, baby and all. She doesn't fight me. I'm not sure she's capable of it right now.

"Are you okay?" I ask as we walk.

She doesn't answer, but I try to assess her for injuries. There are scrapes across her forehead. A bruise on her cheek. But otherwise, she seems okay. Physically, at least.

I place her in the back seat of my car and Remi jumps in after her, sticking to her like glue, licking away her tears.

It hurts even to look at her distraught face. So I turn away and Misha is standing behind me, his eyes locked on the dirt at our feet. "I should've protected them. I shouldn't have let him take Grigory."

I grab his shoulders, hauling him close. "You saw who it was?"

"I recognized him," he admits. "We crashed and I was dizzy, confused. But the door opened. I thought maybe it was… you."

My chest aches. It should've been me. I should've found them. But I shove that thought aside and focus on Misha. "Who was it?"

"I don't know his name. He used to visit the compound sometimes, but I… I never met him, so I don't know?—"

"Is this him?" I hold out my phone, a picture of the devil himself on the screen.

Misha's eyes go wide as he nods slowly. "Who is he?"

"My father," I answer. "Now, tell me exactly what happened. He opened the door, and then…?"

"He picked Grigory up, and I actually thought he was there to help us." Fresh tears flow down his cheeks. "Then he looked me in the eye and said…"

His voice breaks, and I clasp his neck, reassuring him with what little strength I have left.

He clears his throat. "He said, ‘ An heir for an heir.' "