Chapter 48

Chapter

Forty-Eight

"Even extreme grief may ultimately vent

itself in violence--but more generally takes the form of apathy."

― Joseph Conrad

Alexsei

"So, how is it?" I asked eagerly, watching as she took another spoonful of my homemade chocolate mousse. I'd spent hours in the kitchen, following a YouTube video from a renowned French chef who claimed it was the best chocolate mousse recipe ever.

"It's good, Lexi," Caia replied, trying to stifle a giggle as she continued to eat. A tiny grimace flickered across her face before disappearing.

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow suspiciously. "You're lying."

She met my gaze with a playful glint in her eyes, her cheeks flushing slightly. "No, I'm not!"

Determined to prove her wrong, I grabbed the mousse from her hands and took a spoonful myself, expecting a heavenly taste. But to my shock, it was anything but.

What. The. Fuck.

I dashed to the sink, spitting out the mouthful in disbelief.

"I think you confused the salt with the sugar," Caia said between fits of laughter.

As I rinsed my mouth, trying to wash away the disgusting taste of that failed dessert, Caia approached with a smirk on her lips. "Hey, at least it's a one-of-a-kind dessert," she teased, her laughter infectious as she wrapped me in her arms.

I couldn't help but chuckle, despite the culinary disaster. "Yeah, one-of-a-kind is definitely the right word," I admitted, drawing her closer.

I buried my face in the curve of her neck, inhaling her scent deeply. I never used to like being touched before I met her. Sure, I enjoyed a good fuck back then, but intimacy—hugging, kissing for hours, caressing my hair—none of that shit was ever my thing. But with Caia, it felt like being caught in the whirlwind of a desert sandstorm every day if I didn't feel her hands on me. I was addicted to her touch, her smell, her kisses, her body—the whole fucking package.

"You know what else is one-of-a-kind?" I whispered slowly as my lips grazed her neck and reached her ear.

"What?" she breathed, her excitement evident as my hands slowly traveled down her back and gripped her ass.

"You, baby."

She grabbed the back of my hair and tilted my head up, meeting my lips with hers. Her kiss was fierce and insistent, as if she was trying to imprint herself onto me, as though she feared that if she let go, I would vanish into thin air.

"Happy anniversary, moya solnyshka ," I whispered against her lips.

She smiled, her emerald eyes sparkling with admiration as she caressed my cheek. "Happy anniversary, Alexsei."

Suddenly, Lukyan's cries cut through the moment, breaking the spell we were under. With a reluctant sigh, we pulled apart, our gazes locking in for a brief moment before we both hurried to tend to our little one.

"I guess it's feeding time," I chuckled, pushing open the door to his bedroom and flicking on the light switch.

But when I reached his crib, it was empty.

Confusion gripped me, but then I felt a cool droplet on my cheek.

Bringing my hand up, I saw it was red.

Blood.

Looking up, I saw dark, swirling clouds above, raining down crimson droplets.

"I'm sorry, Alexsei. I'm so, so, so sorry," Caia's voice trembled from behind me, her hands clutching my blood-soaked shirt.

Turning slowly, I saw her standing there, completely drenched in blood, looking like a scene from Ready or Not . Then she started to scream. Her screams echoed, growing louder with every frantic shout for Lukyan. The terror in her voice was raw and chilling, sending icy shivers down my spine.

She clung to me, her body shaking violently as she wailed into the darkness. But then, her cries cut off abruptly, and she locked eyes with me, her gaze hollow and haunted.

In a voice barely above a whisper, she said the words that made me want to fucking die: "It's all your fault, Alexsei."

I stood there, frozen in shock and guilt, as a tremor shook me to my core. My vision blurred, and the world spun around me like a nightmarish carnival ride.

Above, the swirling clouds seemed to pulse with a disembodied voice, relentlessly calling my name in a chilling chant: "Alexsei... Alexsei..."

Before I could make sense of the chaos, darkness surged forward, swallowing me whole as if some monstrous entities were dragging me into the abyss. Then everything faded to black.

Death.

In my youth, death was a recurring fantasy, a desperate wish buried under the bruises and blood from my father's cruel hands. Every time he used my face as a punching bag, I secretly hoped he'd hit me hard enough to send me straight to the afterlife. I'd lie in bed at night, tears mingling with blood, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answers, praying for any escape from the hell that was my life under Sergei Rovanski's rule.

All I wanted was to escape the constant beatings and humiliation.

But death never came; instead, life kept throwing more pain my way, making me wonder if death was just a cruel joke for people like me.

I used to wonder what dying would feel like. Would it be a gentle descent, like slipping into a warm bath, with the shock melting into sweet relief? Or would it be like tearing off a bandage, ripping away from everything I knew in one agonizing swoop?

"Alexsei!"

The sound of my name yanked me back to reality.

My eyes flew open, heart pounding, body drenched in sweat. It felt like being pulled back from the edge of something dark and twisted, reminding me that I was still stuck in this messed-up world.

"Alexsei! Wake up!" Volk's voice cut through, his hand slapping my face to pull me back. "She's awake."

Where the hell was I?

Glancing around, I realized I was in a hospital room, slumped on a small leather sofa with a blanket tossed over me.

Raising my eyes, I saw my wife lying on a hospital bed, tubes everywhere, oxygen pumping into her nose. The top of her head was wrapped in a white bandage, stained with blood. When I found her on the floor, next to her was that fucking diamond skull. Someone had used it to bash her head, tried to take her out.

Thank God it only knocked her out.

Her eyes were open, staring at me with this empty, dead look. I couldn't stop the sob that clawed its way up my throat.

Jumping from my seat, I rushed to her side, pulling her into a tight hug, burying my face into her stomach as tears poured down my cheeks, soaking through her blankets. I cried like a damn child, the fear and pain of losing her eating me alive. All I wanted in that moment was to hold her, feel her warmth, anything to convince me she was still here with me.

I heard Volk leave, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving us alone. Caia stayed rigid, arms flat at her sides, while I looked up, seeing her staring blankly at the ceiling.

Those once vibrant emerald eyes were dark, hollow—empty.

"Caia—"

"I want to see my son," she cut me off, her voice barely above a whisper.

My heart shattered into a million pieces.

When the paramedics arrived at the house, one of them, an older woman, tried to take Lukyan from my arms. But I couldn't. I couldn't let go of him. I held my baby's cold body close, too fucking close, the entire ride to the hospital, while they worked on keeping Caia alive.

Then, as doctors rushed around her, I collapsed to my knees in front of the surgical room, Lukyan still in my arms. That's where Volk found me. He held onto me as nurses tried to take my son, but I was too broken, too damn drained to fight them off.

"Baby—"

"I know my son is dead, Romaniev," she snapped. "I want to see him."

She then yanked the oxygen tube out of her nose, ripping the IV from her arm.

"Caia, you've lost too much blood. Please, baby?—"

"I want to see my son now!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. "Right now! I w-want—" Her voice cracked as she sobbed. "I want to see m-my baby! Please l-let me see my baby," she wailed so loud the heart monitor went off, and three nurses stormed into the room.

They tried to pin her down, while one jabbed a needle in her neck with a sedative.

But before it kicked in, Caia grabbed my arms, her nails digging in deep, leaving scratches that'd stay long after tonight.

"Bring me my baby, p-please, Alexsei! If you love me, bring h-him to me…" She then slipped into unconsciousness, her grip loosening, but her words stayed with me.

So, I knew what I had to do.

The morgue .

A place I hated with every fiber of my being.

The frigid air, thick with the stench of death, clung to me, smothering any hope or warmth that might've been left in the room.

And there was this eerie feeling, like the walls themselves were whispering the secrets of the dead.

For three long days, Caia lay in that hospital bed, a shadow of who she was. I barely left her side, watching her drift in and out of sleep, her tears soaking the pillow, her cries tearing me apart. She was slipping away, losing her grip on life bit by bit.

I knew what we needed, even if we couldn't bring ourselves to say it out loud.

We needed to see our baby.

One of the doctors, a petite Asian woman with glasses, led us to another room. Inside, shelves lined the walls, each one holding the remains of a child. My gut twisted as she led us to the right one—number 19050297.

That's what our son was to them now.

Just a fucking number in a sea of lost innocence. Stripped of everything, reduced to a cold, sterile label.

The doctor carefully opened the shelf, turning to ask if we were ready.

We both nodded.

She slowly pulled back the white sheet, revealing our son's face.

Caia's sobs grew louder. Her hand shook as she reached out and touched his tummy. Lukyan looked like he was just sleeping, his blond hair framing his little face, his lashes resting softly on his cheeks. But his lips, usually so full of life, were a cold, awful shade of blue.

Seeing him like that—so still, so quiet—broke something in me .

Rage boiled inside me. This wasn't right, it wasn't fucking fair.

Parents aren't supposed to bury their kids. We were there when he took his first breath, full of life and hope, and now we were here, watching him fade away forever? It's fucking bullshit.

He should be laughing, playing, living— not lying there like some twisted joke of fate.

Caia was right.

This was all my fucking fault.

"Oh, my baby," she whispered, her voice shaking, as she kissed his cold lips, cheeks, and nose. "Oh, my poor baby, I'm so sorry."

I held Caia tighter, her pain stabbing through me like a knife.

"Why did you leave mommy all alone? Why?" she sobbed softly, her tears falling on him. "What am I supposed to do now? Mama can't go on without you, Lukyan. I just can't."

All I could do was hold her, knowing that no amount of love could ever fill the hole left by losing him.

"Did he—" Caia's voice broke, her eyes full of desperation as she looked at the doctor.

The doctor's expression softened. "He was poisoned," she said gently. "Someone gave him water laced with cyanide. He fell asleep, and his heart slowed until it stopped. He didn't suffer."

Caia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, tears flooding her eyes all over again.

"It's time to go," the doctor murmured softly, her voice thick with sympathy.

But Caia clung to Lukyan, whispering his name over and over between sobs.

"I'm sorry, my love," she cried, her voice breaking. "I love you so much. Mama loves you so much, Lukyan. Do you hear me? I love you, baby. I love you so, so, so much. Please forgive me. Please, forgive mama. I'm so sorry. Oh, my baby, I'm so sorry."

I stood there, crushed, tears streaming down my face. Every tear felt like a blade cutting deeper into me.

As the doctor moved to cover Lukyan's body again, I stopped her. I leaned in and kissed his forehead, his cheeks, and his nose.

Then, close to his ear, I whispered, "I love you, Lukyan. Always. Papa's gonna miss you forever, buddy."