25. Vlad

There's already a smile on my face before I open my eyes and I reach across the mattress for my queen. She usually spreads out, laying half on me, but the sheets are cold. Springing up like I'll see something other than an empty bed, I move faster than I should be capable of, considering my lack of sleep over the months. Inessa is nowhere in the room, there's no evidence she was even here, and the brat cut off any light, so I'd stay asleep.

I'm not a heavy sleeper. I would have heard if she was moving things, but I already know without opening the door that she won't be on the other side. Resolving to drag her back from wherever she's decided to go, I rush through getting dressed before searching for her.

She'll be hiding on Vitali's floor again, like she did before she left. He'll be an immature idiot and go in a mood when I tell him for the second time that my wife only belongs on our floor, in our room.

It's later than I thought, and Vitali looks up at the sound of me entering the lounge. I'm on edge at the smile on his face. There's no joy in it, he's nervous, and the envelope in his hand has me fucking murderous. His voice is low, the same as when he would fuck up as a teenager and he'd counteract Valentin's tantrums with remorse.

"It came an hour after she left, I didn't know what it was and signed for it."

The apology in his tone isn't enough. The dumb fuck shouldn't have touched the fucking thing.

My wife is intelligent, too clever for her own good, because she's managed to serve me divorce papers when I've refused to take them. The last weak suka who tried left with third-degree burns. Now that flame is in my own hands despite the envelope being intact as I rip it out of my idiotic brother's hand. I know he's the person with the information I need, so I stop myself from beating the shit out of him.

"What's the address?"

He sends me it and looks younger as he mumbles at his phone screen. "I thought it was something for the trusts that you needed."

The envelope is a fuck you, Inessa's way of making out we're nothing and sticking to a stupid fucking agreement I regret. But she's fucked herself, my wife and daughter will be with me. Even though one of them doesn't want to be.

Some of my anger lessens towards Vitali because he morphs into a two-year-old with tears in his eyes and my t-shirt in his fist as he avoids my eyes.

"It's done now. She would have found a way to do it."

My stubborn, bratty wife is resourceful and determined. My cum will still be inside her but she hasn't stayed. She knows I'm dragging her back to me whether she likes it or not and if she wants me to fucking chase her, she better hope there's no one beside her while she runs. I know she won't have some prick in her life, but I can hear the echo of her dreaming about a life with some mundane office prick.

I leave, ready to get my wife back. Dima already has a car pulled up with the engine running, and one of Verena's car seats is in the back. He doesn't say a word and the tightness is coming back. I don't know how long she's been gone for, and she didn't take a single thing out of the room. That fact instills hope in me, dangerous and deadly hope. It's what kills people, that emotion isn't rational. There are no confirmed paths to take, and it can't be beaten or killed without stealing a part of its occupant.

I make it to her fucking house in half the time, and she has pipsqueak on the gate like her five-foot-nothing ass could do shit. The house isn't huge, the grounds are with two guard boxes at the perimeter. It's too small for her, too plain with its boring brick, and we have horses for fuck's sake.

Ana senses my anger and she opens the gate without hesitation.

My queen has been organizing all this shit for months. There's no chance on earth that she managed to have everything fully furnished to her taste and there's not even a moving truck in sight. Because she purchased it all new. There hasn't been any spending on my card. If she wants something, that's where it's supposed to come from.

I roll to a stop outside the large double doors and step out of the car. Maximoff stands guard, blocking the entryway and shakes his head. It's not in disappointment, but a warning and a reminder of his position. Controlling my voice is useless. It's rough and laced with threat if he doesn't move as I eat up the space.

"I'm here to collect my daughter."

He puffs his chest out to appear larger and the smug old fuck hardens. "She has twenty-four hours, as per your own clause."

This is what I get for being fucking nice. I shouldn't have added it.

All of Maximoff's men are on guard, waiting for the order inside the house. She isn't under his group, neither of them are. My guards are supposed to be with her. Her grandfather can keep the house and fill it with whoever he wants, but my wife and daughter are mine. I've just got my head caught up on not fucking dying and not killing a Pakhan. I won't do it now when I want the life stood behind Maximoff.

The marble floors glisten around the dirty footprints marring it and there's no packaging. She fucking planned it, had everything ready and if she hadn't caught me last night, if I hadn't gone into the nursery, I would have never known that she was leaving.

My blood roars in my ears as I see Inessa walk from the back of the house into the hallway. She cradles our daughter to her chest and pauses. Her shoulders automatically straightening and her chin tilting with strength. But she has one of the same weaknesses as I do and her arms are tensed, the fear isn't directed at me but the guards who aren't supposed to be here. She's supposed to have Ana, Dima, and my brothers, even Viktor would be better than any of these fucks.

She meets my eyes then shifts them to the side where Misha is stood directing the guards to move a sofa for her. That beautiful mind of hers is incomparable as she silently asks me not to make her look weak. There's no dare or challenge. She's not being a brat, and she will only ever be viewed as a queen among the masses. So, I allow them all to think it's due to the hierarchy as I nod my head once at Maximoff then turn to leave. It won't be for long. The idea has already formed and both of them will be back where they belong tonight.

* * *

If I requiredproof that Inessa won't be safe in the house that she picked it's in the fact that I'm walking inside. The guards Maximoff chose were useless and I've done him a favor by disposing of them. They're lucky that it's getting close to Verena's feeding time, or I'd have spent more time expelling my rage. The security system is horrendous too, it took less than eight minutes for it to be disabled.

The house is silent as I walk through. I expect Inessa to be somewhere, but she must be exhausted from her unnecessary move. Kicking my shoes off so I don't wake her, my steps are silent examining the property she chose. It's not one of the listings I was sent, fucking smart woman knew what I was doing.

There are no sounds as I take the stairs and all of the bedrooms are empty as I pass them. She's chosen the room furthest away from any entry point and pride swells in my chest. My queen lays hugging a pillow and her snores are louder, showing she's in deep sleep. Verena is knocked out too as I go to the crib. Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout, and I lift her carefully not to wake her. The envelope replaces the space she was laid, and I resist the temptation of going to Inessa. She'll be pissed, but the options are black and white, she can come home or live alone.We both know the latter isn't an option.

She doesn't twitch as I silently move through the room and pick up extra blankets and a coat to wrap the littlest queen up so she's not cold. Verena smiles in her sleep as I get her dressed. She's such a grumpy baby that it makes me pause. I always do when she's sleeping because her smiles are unrestrained. She has a problem with the world and knows they're all beneath her. Another smart woman that's probably going to drive me crazy.

There's one way she doesn't take after her mother — Verena isn't screaming at me. There's a sinking in my gut making me hesitate as I walk out of the room. Inessa will be upset, she'll be distraught, but I can't turn back. Not when she signed everything and if this is all down to that stupid fucking agreement I'll follow it to pull her back to me.If I do it forcefully, she'll become a shell of herself, and I need her to become the chatterbox again. My life is too silent without her.

Verena doesn't stir as I walk down the stairs, or as I put my shoes on, she's content knowing she's coming home. I cover her eyes with my hand before I open the door, so she doesn't catch a glimpse of any of the bodies I had to drag away from the road. There's no blood on my hands though, guns finally having a use despite being less satisfying. She won't even know what the bodies are at her young age, yet I still keep my hand there until she's safely in her car seat. She opens one eye when I get in the driver's seat and I turn to look at her. The side of her lips lift as though she's milk drunk, and she lets out a fart, making it drop. At least she hasn't shit on me again.

It takes longer to get home as I drive slower than I ever have in my life. Dima stops himself from telling me his thoughts again as I pull up outside the house. All of them can fuck themselves, my brothers' disappointed stares didn't stop me. Nothing will. Even as a baby, Verena knows she's in the right place and her little smirk comes back out as soon as we step through the doors.She doesn't release any gases so I'm assuming it's due to the location change causing her comfort rather than biology. The door closes behind me as Dima grumbles to himself and fucks off. There won't be anyone here to witness Inessa lose control, she'll remain a queen in public and my brat in private as it should be.

I take Verena to her crib set up in our room and grab a bottle from the nursery, anticipating her waking up. She wakes as soon I sit on the edge of bed. Her scowl lessens as I place the teat against her bottom lip as though she's surprised at my forethought.

"You know I never let you cry." She closes that one eye and dismisses me as she drinks. "Yeah, your mama is going to be pissed but she'll be here soon."

Her jaw moves and suckling fills the room. I make a mental note of the time and that I used half of the pouch for her bottle. She doesn't open her eyes again, not even one of them which I've become accustomed to as her level of communication. She's perfect and I'm going to make her a spoilt brat, worse than her mother or anyone on this earth has ever seen.

Getting her settled once she's been fed and before her mother comes to rage, I lock up and turn all the alerts on. Inessa will think I'm a bastard, but I know her routine. She'll wake up in twenty minutes to do her routinely check and find the details she needs. Then she'll come home.It was always the same when I'd be laid on the floor and she'd wake up on a gasp, staring at the crib to reassure herself that Verena was okay. She's got used to sleeping with me taking over the nights and it works to my advantage now as I go back downstairs to wait for her. As soon as she steps through the doors, they're getting locked, and they won't open until she agrees to stay here.

Turning on the camera feed and sound in case Verena wakes up while we're waiting for her mother, I sit at the bar feeling lighter than ever. As long as they're under the same roof as me it'll be okay. I can live with hate, not absence. That shit will drive me insane.All of the guards have already left, and I wait, dulling my senses to prevent me doing the same as I did last night. I won't fuck her unless she wants me to, it would be imbalanced, and she wants to be equal. We never will be because she can move without telling me, yet I can't breathe unless she's in the same building as me.

She won't be stubborn enough not to come home. She wouldn't be separated from our daughter, no matter the cost. Time is moving too slowly wait and my mind goes to war.All of this could be resolved if I tell her everything. It won't fix her fears, but it will offer an explanation. She'd know I didn't leave her, that I didn't have a choice. She'd understand. But she'd be disgusted. Hate me and know the truth. Know how I failed, and I'd lose them both.Or she'd find out that I'm stuck, unable to make a choice between life and death. The little drips of my soul I've managed to keep pull in different directions when it's not possible to keep them all.

If I could go back in time to the moment before Grigory called, I'd cherish it. Cherish her. Keep every little thing locked away, engrained into my memory as the last time I truly had Inessa, my queen. She was happy, I haven't seen her smile the same way since. Fuck, what I'd give for her to smile at me like that again.

I've drunk more than I should as I pick up the decanter only to realize it's empty. Leaning over the bar, I mix spirits as I feel the bone-crushing guilt beat down against me. Three people all on different sides. Life has Inessa and Verena, death took Vanya. I should go to death, then each side would be balanced, equal. The word Inessa loves so much.

Would she even come to my funeral if I died?

Maybe it's better if she doesn't.

My eyes close as my chest tightens. The guilt mixing with longing for all three of them. A perfect life would have everyone under one roof, under my protection and they would be my responsibility. I would keep them safe. Not blue. And they would be warm. So fucking warm with smiles on their faces. In a house with no windows.

Tires squeal outside the doors and I smile, my queen has arrived home. There's no door slamming, and I stand refilling my tumbler. My body sways with the change in position as I bring the crystal to my lips. The front door pushes open, slamming into the wall keeping it in place. I smile wider nearly dribbling whisky at the angry footsteps that follow it.

A shot rings out and the tumbler shatters in my hand before a drop could touch my tongue. The rim was once a circle is now a crescent — the moon. Pride fills me and I turn with a smile to see my beautiful wife, wrapped in fury, wearing my t-shirt. My voice is strange, as though I'm stood in a different room as I watch her.

"Your aim has improved."

Her hand holding the gun shakes, but she can shoot me at point-blank range as long as she stays here.

Still aiming at me, she shrugs, "I was going for your head."

Fuck me, she's beautiful and powerful as the deadly voice comes out.

"Where is my daughter?"

Answering easily, I drop the shattered crystal. "Home."

Replaying memories while I drank has me duller than I intended, and Inessa uses it to her advantage as she closes the distance and pushes at my chest.

"You took her from her home. Where. Is. My. Daughter?"

She relaxes minutely as I turn my phone so she can see that our daughter is safe and sleeping in her bed. My lowered inhibitions loosen my tongue as I cup her face with both hands and there's too much emotion in my voice.

"You never say our daughter, why?"

She slaps out at my hands and wrists, attempting to get away from me. The gun is still aimed at me, but her finger isn't on the trigger. It won't stop me, nothing will, the brat is under my skin. I thought I'd be able to stay away, and I couldn't last twelve fucking hours. Fuck that, it was barely thirty seconds when I'd formulated my plan.

She waves the gun around like a madwoman as she speaks without fear, and I can feel my cheeks move up.

"Because she's mine, you left me bent over with your cum dripping down my thighs. You didn't give a fuck that she existed. You didn't go to a single appointment. You didn't name her. You didn't do shit. So, no, not our anything. She is my daughter." Any incline they achieved is demolished when her words sink in. Her cruelty comes out as she grimaces and spits out, "You are a sperm donor. That is all."

I deflate under the weight of my fuck ups, and her arms limply fall to her sides as she stares at me. There are so many emotions on her face. Worry. Hurt. Pain. Care. Fear. But her voice is haunted.

"You chose to keep your secrets over having me, and I wouldn't have stopped you being a father. But you blocked her out too. That's the worst sin on your long list."

Nodding in agreement, guilt lowers my tone.

"I know, meely moy."

She remains fixed in place as my legs turn to lead. I have to force each step until she's back within reach. Holding her nape, I rest our foreheads together and there's no threat in my voice.

"But if you try to take her, I'll fight you in any court. Our agreement states any child stays with me when we divorce."

A metallic thud hits the ground and then she touches me. Well, pushes me away but her hands are on my chest. Not one, both of them, as she presses her hurt into me. Her face contorts with disgust and I'm definitely drunk as I sway, catching her hand as she takes a step back. I don't know who collides into the other, but she lets out a soft grunt around her anger.

"You can't be fucking serious?" she scoffs, shaking her head.

She's moving away again, but this was supposed to keep her here. The hurt increases in her dark eyes as she spits out, "What are you going to do, just fucking leave her when she asks for something? Or does something you don't like?"

Fuck, drinking was a bad idea, and I can't say everything I need to. The memories are there screaming in my head, wanting attention. Tapping against my thigh to focus, I don't look away from my queen and beg, "What can I do for you to change your mind? I'll give you everything, anything."

Inessa freezes, moves her head back, and her brows come together.

My hand goes up like I'm asking for permission, but she doesn't say anything and my vision doubles with the alcohol fully in my blood now. Dropping to my knees, I smile up at her and my joke is terrible even to my drunk ass.

"I don't kneel for any man, good job you're a woman, moya koroleva."

Four slow steps and she's in front of me, it's all blurry at the edges. But I can touch her, and I wrap my arms around her middle.

She doesn't push me away and massages my scalp, her voice is hesitant and fearful.

"What happened to you, Vlad?"

I don't know what she's asking for. There's been too much shit for me to explain, and I say what the memories are forcing me to relive.

"I thought I killed her, and I thought you and Verena would be blue if I stayed."

My arms tighten around her, my cheek pushing into my lashes from how hard it's pressed into her stomach because it's there. All of it is right fucking there in front of my eyes. Everything that happened that night, everything that makes it unbearable to live, is called to the forefront of my mind. The memories are strong, bending time and altering reality as the horrible stench fills the room.

Piotr.

It's in my nose and bile burns up the back of my throat. Acid fills my mouth, and the position forces it all fucking back. The soft hands in my hair make me flinch violently as they morph into blows landing against my scalp.

Just like before, the body I'm refusing to let go of moves with me. But there are no screams. No blood. No violence. The person is softer, gentler, caring, as they say my name and wrap their soft hands around my biceps.

"Vlad? Get up."

But I continue to flinch as my jaw locks. The retching is trapped behind my teeth. It echoes around my mouth, bouncing off the bones as spit fills my mouth. The texture is wrong, and I heave. Tears fill the voice that doesn't belong in the memory that's replaying.

"Get up, you're scaring me."

They're pulled with me as my stomach convulses but I don't allow my jaw to unlock. It will stop, everything will stop. Each limb is being tugged but I'm not hoisted into the air.

Wrong.

A pain-filled scream pierces the air as my arms tighten further.

"VLAD!"

I look up.

I never look up.

Soft delicate hands cup my face. They don't trace a shape and I abruptly let go, knowing it's her. She's the only one who touched my face, every time, she would never stop touching my face while repeating, ‘If only you weren't so beautiful.'

I have to do it, or she'll take her away from me. I have to do it to keep Vanya. That was the deal, I have to. Maybe she'll let me see the photo of her if I do it right. That was the new agreement so there were no more drugs. She doesn't like it when I have the drugs, but my movements are sluggish.

I blink and mumble around the acid coating my tongue, "Photo?"

My arms drop to my sides. Heavy and useless. She presses her hands against my face harder and I close my eyes as my numb fingers go to my shirt. The buttons scrape against my skin, and I keep the goal of seeing Vanya's picture in mind to stop the sick burning up my throat.

She shouts my name again and shakes my face, pushing me back. "Vlad, what are you doing?"

Her voice cracks. Wrong.

Then she pulls, trying to get me to stand. Wrong.

The voice turns soothing above the sniffles, and I open my eyes. Wrong.

It's not her, she won't let me have Vanya. It's someone new and she smiles at me when she looks into my eyes. Tears spill over her lower lashes, and I flinch when they hit my cheek.

"Get up, please."

Dark eyes. So dark they show someone kneeling on the floor. Someone older, in a suit, with dead eyes.

I keep blinking and she strains as she grabs both of my arms to force me to my feet. My head shakes, the drugs, and she wraps her arm around my middle. I'm not a boy. The woman in front of me isn't her. It isn't her because the woman in front of me is mine.

Fuck, it's Inessa. My wife. My queen.

There's no drugs in my system but my body reacts the same as those years of being dosed by Anika. Wrapping both arms around her despite the dead weight that has taken over my limbs, I pull her into my chest as she sobs. Her sobs are violent, gut-wrenching agony.

Wrong.

Lead fills my feet, and I can't move. I can't pick her up to let her wipe her nose on me. I can't make a stupid comment so she'll feel better. She's seen it, she knows I'm wrong, that I'm a murderer of someone so innocent, someone I was supposed to protect.

I fight the bile in my throat to swallow the discomfort that's filling my mouth as I stroke down her back. I sound younger, trapped between the memories and now.

"I hurt you."

She shakes her head, or her entire body shakes, and she looks up at me, meeting my eyes, still meeting my eyes. Hers are red, filled with pain.

"Not blue," I say to myself.

It comes out on a breath as my lungs ache. Her hands slowly move from my back to my sides as though she's attempting to comfort the air in my lungs and the soothing voice is like a key to all my secrets.

"What does it mean?"

I sway on my feet as my vision doubles, two Inessas. Both teary-eyed and hurt. Her hands remain on my sides as she moves me to sit on the armchair by the window. I fall back, landing against it with a thud and she sits on the armrest. My eyes close as she flattens her palm over my ear. My body is tilted until my head rests on her thighs and her fingers gently scrape my scalp like I do to her. There's another voice in the room. It sounds like me and they talk about me like they are me.

"Len said I'm wrong, that something inside of me was wrong. That I made her wrong by being around her." Wrapping my arms around her thighs, I pull her closer, needing to feel her warmth and I look up, being weak as fuck but not caring. "I can breathe now. Just stay, I'll give you everything. Tell you everything, even though you'll hate me. Just stay, meelaya."

She smiles, full of tears, and nods once, causing them to race down her cheeks. The voice was me. My mouth opens again, and I tap on my thigh, watching a tear cling to the ledge of her jaw. It fights to remain on her skin, and I don't look away from it.

"I'll let you have it all, let you hate me, just stay."

The tear loses the battle as another absorbs it, making it too heavy and it hits her t-shirt, instantly soaking into the fabric. Her voice is softer, further away, and I blink, making sure she hasn't moved.

"I won't hate you, find me when you're ready?"

I'll never be ready to relive it. It's too much when it's only in my head and I'll remember her face, it's there every night. Never her features, just the exact blue of her skin and lips. Not the color of her eyes, I can't bring up the image of the way they sparkled. But her blue skin and lips are there, right fuckin there haunting me, telling me I'm worse than anyone knows.

Inessa holds my hands, unwrapping them from around her and I fucked it up again. She doesn't leave me though and I laugh to myself as my queen holds my hand and guides me upstairs. It's so she can check on Verena and I unlock the doors while we're in the elevator. Following her is easy and she relaxes seeing that our daughter is safe.

I don't want her to hear and be ashamed of me. She's asleep and she's smiling to herself.

I can feel myself sobering and my voice is rough, scraping against my throat that's closing up, as I whisper, "Not in front of her."

Inessa turns, giving me a tight-lipped smile as she allows me to take her to the room furthest away like it can stop the sound traveling or the only sin I've committed from haunting the walls.

The walls mimic my throat as they close in around me, and she sits me on the bed with her hands on my biceps.

Wrong.

There's no appreciation on her features, her eyes don't light up like they usually do as she kisses the top of my head and sniffles. She knows. She knows and now she's ashamed of me too.

Disgusted. Sickened. Ashamed.

I don't say anything, not knowing how to start or wanting to give it a voice as she steps back. There's numbness and feeling, but both flood my body at this moment. They're too intense and the bed dips beside me as it all shuts down. My body tilts until my head is on her thighs again and the caress against my scalp restarts, trying to relax me. I blow out a breath as my eyes close and it all sinks further into me. All the memories, the hopes, the dreams, the blue. I become too weak to push it away anymore. For the first time in my life, I let it all in and it causes my voice to crack.

"Vanya was born exactly eighteen days before you."

Wrong.

My voice lowers further, and my cheek moves up into the weakest smile.

"My first daughter."

I don't know whose heart is beating louder as Inessa freezes and I say everything aloud.

"But she will…" breathing becomes heavier, a burden, as I restart, "She will always be eleven months, three weeks, and four days old."