42. Chapter 42

forty-two

Clara

N o. Fuck. No!

I jerk awake, bolting upright from where I’d been lying down, my heart pounding, but I can’t remember the dream that ripped me from sleep. My eyes fly open, and that’s when I see them.

Three dark shapes. Huge.

Standing at the entrance like they own the place.

It’s not Mitch.

I reach out instinctively, pulling Elijah close to me, my body shielding his. My pulse races. Elijah’s tiny body still pressed against mine.

I don’t make any sudden moves. My breaths are shallow, slow. My hand moves, slow but steady, toward the gun I’ve hidden at my waist.

Then, one of the shadows steps forward.

I freeze.

The figure comes into the faint light of the lantern, and the shadows fall away from his face.

Leonid fucking Kuznetsov.

He’s standing there, watching me, and then he shakes his head— slow, deliberate, like he knows exactly what I’m about to do.

He knows my hand’s on the gun. His eyes meet mine, and I can see it—he’s telling me, don’t.

For a heartbeat, our eyes meet. In that brief moment, I see it—the way his eyes flicker straight to Elijah. He’s not looking at me. He’s looking at my son. Like he’s trying to make sense of something that’s not adding up in his head.

I pull Elijah closer, shielding him with my body. “Mommy…” Elijah’s voice is soft, unsure.

“Shh, baby,” I whisper, my voice steady even though my heart is beating so fast it feels like it might explode. I won’t let them near him. Not a chance.

My mouth feels dry and parched, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. It’s almost like the tension itself has a taste—bitter and metallic.

Leonid’s gaze is still locked on Elijah, and something flashes in his expression—something I don’t like.

My fingers tighten around Elijah’s tiny shoulder, ready to pull him even closer if I have to. But Leonid doesn’t move toward me.

“Get up, Clara Caldwell,” he orders, his voice low, like a fucking command I’m supposed to follow. “We’re leaving.”

Leaving? My stomach twists, but I don’t have time to process it.

I don’t let go of Elijah. Protect him. That’s all that matters.

“You’re not taking us anywhere.” My throat strains as I speak, my eyes are locked onto his, intense and unyielding. Even though everything in me is screaming.

I’m already on my feet, pulling Elijah behind me, shielding him from Leonid’s piercing gaze.

He takes a step forward, like he’s going to come closer, like he’s already decided he’s taking what he wants. “You think you have a choice?”

Elijah moves again, and before I can stop him, his little head pops up, groggy and confused. “Mommy? Who’s that?”

Shit.

Leonid’s eyes flick to Elijah, narrowing like he’s studying something. I hate it. I hate the way he looks at my kid like he’s more than just a little boy.

“Elijah, stay close,” I murmur, my hand never leaving him. “It’s okay.”

But it’s not. It’s so far from okay that I can’t even begin to think about it.

The silence stretches too long, and Leonid’s staring too hard at Elijah. His mouth opens, and for the first time, I hear something new in his voice.

“Elijah,” he whispers, almost to himself.

“Don’t call his name,” I snap.

Leonid doesn’t look up at me. He’s too busy staring at Elijah.

Fuck, they look alike. But he can’t know. He can’t ever know.

My heart pounds in my chest as the realization creeps in. He’s noticing it. I see it in the way his eyes narrow, the way he studies Elijah’s face.

I inch forward, my body still a barrier between them, hoping to block whatever it is Leonid thinks he’s seeing.

And then, Elijah, completely oblivious, decides to take the situation into his own hands. He points straight at Leonid, his voice gaining confidence. “You’re a bad guy, huh?”

I want to laugh, cry, scream—all at once. But Leonid? He just keeps watching Elijah, ignoring me entirely.

“Mommy,” Elijah continues, looking right at me with all the seriousness of a 4-year-old, “he looks like Meowth .”

“Meo…wth? ” Leonid’s brow furrows, clearly confused, and another shadow—whoever the fuck he is—snorts.

Another one steps forward. The light from the lantern hits his face for the first time, and I recognize him.

That same asshole from the auction party. Broad, tall, scar down his cheek. The fucker always had that cocky smirk glued to his face, like a joker. Yeah, that suits him.

“So, boss, what are you waiting for? The big finale?” says Joker.

Another giant steps forward, taller than the rest, his face still hidden in the shadows. Elijah shifts nervously beside me, clutching my arm tightly. I feel his small body trembling, and I instinctively pull him closer.

Before I can react, Leonid is already in front of me.

So fucking fast.

Without a word, his hand slides to my waist.

Fuck.

The heat from his palm sends a shockwave through my body, his fingers grazing over my skin until they find the gun I’d hidden there. He doesn’t pull it out right away, though. No, he lets it linger, his eyes locked onto mine. Almost taunting.

I know that look. It’s the look of pure desire, like he wants to devour me whole.

My breath catches.

Why the hell am I thinking about this right now?

I mentally slap myself, trying to push away the feeling. This isn’t the time.

But then he grips the gun, sliding it out slowly, deliberately, as if he’s enjoying every second of it. I feel like I’m about to explode from the inside, and it’s not just from the anger boiling beneath the surface.

“ God damn it!” I hiss. Before I can shove him away, Leonid grabs my arm, rough, pulling me closer. His breath brushes against my skin, too close. For a split second, I consider fighting—kicking, screaming—but I don’t get the chance.

Elijah’s already moving.

With a fierce growl, a sound so primal it shocks me, he charges Leonid. His tiny teeth sink into Leonid’s hand… hard.

Leonid jerks back slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it morphs into something darker. But instead of pushing Elijah away, he smiles—a cruel, twisted smile.

He moves so fast. In one smooth motion, Leonid grabs Elijah, lifting him into the air as if he weighs nothing.

“Elijah!” I scream, my voice cracking as I lunge forward, hands reaching out.

Elijah kicks and thrashes, his fists pounding against Leonid’s chest.

“Let me go! Pikachu’s gonna shock you!” he yells, his voice filled with fury. But Leonid holds him like he’s nothing more than a toy.

“Put him down, you bastard!” I scream, my throat raw with panic. I try to rip Elijah from Leonid’s hands, but I’m suddenly yanked back .

I spin around, only to find Joker —that smug asshole with the scar—standing behind me, his grip firm.

“Let him go!” I scream again, struggling against his hold. But then, before I can do anything else, a cloth is pressed over my mouth and nose.

Fuck.

The smell hits me immediately—chemical, suffocating.

Fuck, not again.

My vision blurs as I try to fight it, but my arms are heavy, my legs refusing to cooperate.

Everything spins. Too late.

The last thing I see is Elijah, still kicking, still fighting.

And then… darkness.

Continue with Eclipse Heart, Book 2

Prepare to swoon and sizzle as Leonid and Clara’s journey takes a daring turn in Eclipse Heart . In this second installment of the Kuznetsov Bratva series, happily-ever-after might just be as dangerously seductive as their love.

( Continue with Eclipse Heart, Book 2 )