57. Viviana

I open my eyes and see a figure standing next to my bed.

I jolt awake, my heart slamming against my ribcage as my spine slams against the headboard. This is it. He's here to kill me.

"Mama?"

The little voice scatters the cloud of panic. I blink and see Dante staring up at me, wide-eyed.

"I'm sorry," he blurts. His eyes are shiny like he's been crying, too. "Mama, I didn't mean to?—"

"Shhh. Don't be sorry." I slip my hands under his arms and scoop him up the way I used to when he was a toddler.

He learned to stand on a toy box to open his door. Then he would pat my mattress and call for me, too small to see over the side of my bed. That was back when I could carry him anywhere I wanted without a second thought. Before he grew too big to fit comfortably in my lap.

I curl my arms around his sleep-warm body and hold him to my chest. "I'm glad you're here, baby. I missed you."

He nuzzles his face into my neck. "I don't want to go away, Mama."

"You're not going anywhere," I whisper. "You're safe here with me."

I still have the duffel bag under my bed. I can get him out of here. Not now, though. With all the guards around the premises and eyes on me, I'll need help.

I hope Pyotr's offer is still good.

Dante sits up. He's frowning and he looks so much like Mikhail. It still hurts, but not the way it used to. Now, it's the ache of a missing limb. The pain of losing something vital you can never get back.

I squeeze Dante's hand. I won't lose him, too.

"What is it, bud? What's wrong?"

"Call Mikhail," he whimpers. "Tell him I don't want to go."

"We can talk to him later. Maybe in the morning."

I tried talking. It didn't do any good.

"He isn't in his room," he says. "I went there first. I was going to ask him to promise to let me stay, but he's gone."

I don't want to think about what it means that Mikhail isn't in bed in the middle of the night. Is he too worked up to sleep? Or is he too busy planning my punishment?

"He'll be back," I assure him. "And when he comes back, we'll talk to him. I'm sure we can convince him to let you stay."

Mikhail's voice is still echoing off the walls of my skull. Dante is my responsibility now and I'm going to send him away. I'm going to keep him safe, from my enemies… and from you.

He didn't leave any room for doubt about what he wants to do. I don't think I'll be able to convince him to do anything, but maybe Dante can.

"Just call him," Dante begs, shaking my arm. "He has to listen to you."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because you make the rules," he says.

The innocence shining through his absolute certainty that I am the ultimate power in this house brings tears to my eyes. I hug him close.

"Please call him. Just try. Please."

I know it won't do any good, but I reach for my phone on the bedside table. "I'll call, but I don't think he'll answer."

Actually, I know he won't.

If I thought there was any chance Mikhail would answer, I wouldn't even try. Dante does not need to be present for whatever hellscape that conversation would turn into. My son looks at me, hopeful, as the phone rings and rings.

I give him a tight smile, doing my best to look upbeat. Hopeful, just like him. Part of me is still hopeful. There's still Pyotr and his offer. It's the only bright spot in this long tunnel of darkness. There's still a chance we get out of here.

After thirty seconds, the ringing stops and the call goes to voicemail.

"Sorry, D." I toss my phone onto the mattress next to me. "I'll talk to him tomorrow, okay?

He sags. "What if tomorrow is too late?"

It would be a lie to say the same question isn't burning in the back of my mind. I have no idea when this little world we've built could come tumbling down or when Mikhail will pull this rug out from under me.

The only thing I do know is that Dante is here right now. We both are.

"It won't be too late. We have time." I wrap my arm around him and smooth his hair out of his face. "We have nothing but time."

We fall asleep like that, Dante snoozing next to me. It reminds me of the years we spent in our tiny little apartment. There were so many nights when he had nightmares and I would crowd into his toddler bed with him. We'd wake up smashed together, his knees in my spine and his elbows in my ribs.

Those were good nights.

But when I blink my eyes open, the bed is empty.

I can see the nest of blankets where Dante was curled up, but he isn't there anymore.

"Dante?"

Boom. Boom. Boom. The walls start to shake.

I duck down, my first thought going to gunshots.

When the sound stops, I turn to the door. It's closed. The frame is still splintered and cracked on the inside from when Mikhail tore through it last night, but somehow, the door is locked.

The banging starts up again, and I realize it's a hammer. Someone is pounding on the other side.

I leap out of bed and yank on the doorknob, but it doesn't budge. Somehow, it might be sturdier than before Mikhail broke it.

"Leave it be, Viv," Anatoly sighs. He sounds weary. "You aren't getting through this."

"What are you doing?" I jerk on the handle, but the door doesn't even rattle in the frame. Whatever Anatoly is doing, it's solid. "Are you locking me in here?"

"Please don't…" He sighs again. "You'll get out soon, okay? Mikhail just needs some time."

"Time to decide if he's going to kill me?" I spit.

"He won't do that."

Anatoly sounds sure, but I'm not. As I crawl to the wall and slide down it, I can't even find the energy to panic over being trapped in this room.

All I can think is, It's too late.

There's no way out of here. Even Pyotr can't help me now.