Page 14

14

SAbrINA

I’m bundled up tighter than a damn burrito, dragging my boots through the mud-slick trail that snakes along the edge of the mountains. The cold bites through the layers I’ve thrown on—baggy jeans rolled up at the ankle, one of Oleksi’s black long sleeves knotted at my waist to keep it from swallowing me whole, and a fleece I borrowed from one of the six men shadowing us from Timofey Morozov’s crew.

Every now and then, I feel one of their eyes on me. Or Oleksi’s. Or both.

They don’t let me out of arm’s reach. If he’s not walking beside me, he’s behind me. If he’s not behind me, one of them is. Usually that would’ve pissed me off and made me lash out. Demand space. Freedom.

But today?

Today I don’t mind.

Because something in me broke back there. And I don’t know how to put it back together.

My boots crunch over wet pine needles, and I glance at the slope to my right, steep and treacherous, nothing but gray rock and frozen mist. This forest, this path—it all feels haunted. Not by ghosts. But by the shit I brought with me.

For five days, I kept my head high. I spat sass and sarcasm like venom in the RMSAD compound. I sat across from scientists, doctors, psych specialists, and fed them a carefully constructed version of me—average intelligence, limited vocabulary, fake gaps in logic. I didn’t let them see it. The fear. The truth.

Because it was all a front. All of it. A last-ditch shield to keep from falling apart.

But now that I’m out?

Every time I blink, I see his face.

Mikhail’s.

Blood leaking from the side of his mouth after Valeska stabbed him. That hideous sneer right before Nadia shot him in the head. The way he pinned me—his weight crushing, his hands violating. My chest tightens. My throat constricts.

I stagger a step, gripping a tree trunk to steady myself.

“You okay?” Oleksi’s voice cuts through the silence like a blade.

I nod without looking at him. “Just… need a sec.”

He doesn’t press. He never does when I get like this. But I feel his gaze on me. Sharp. Protective. Still giving me space, even when I’m unraveling.

Syd jogs up to us from where she’s been scouting ahead, her hair pulled back into a neat bun, with the collar of her jacket pulled up high. “We’re ten clicks from the fallback ridge,” she tells Oleksi. “I recommend we pause in the next clearing. Let everyone hydrate. You look like shit,” she adds, glancing at me.

“Thanks,” I rasp. “You always know how to make a girl feel like a queen.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Oleksi says.

The others peel off to give us space. Clyde and Ivan light a small fire, murmuring between themselves. Timofey’s men form a quiet perimeter.

He steers me away from his team, and we walk deeper into the forest, stopping near a patch of dry moss between the trees. “We can sit here.”

I sink onto the moss with a groan and drop my pack.

Oleksi lowers beside me.

“Talk to me,” he says, voice low, careful. “If you want to.”

I stare straight ahead.

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Try the middle.”

“Can we not?” I look at him and shrug. “I’m just not ready. I haven’t even had time to process it all myself yet.”

Flashes of the different facilities and Yelena run through my mind, followed by the picture of Mikhail’s lifeless body lying on the ground. I give myself a mental shake. Truthfully, if it were just the RMSAD or the picture of Mikhail’s lifeless body, I could probably push it to the back of my mind or process it a lot easier.

But it’s not the facilities, or Mikhail nearly raping me, or the image of him lying with dead eyes bloodied on the ground that starts a rising panic inside me when I think about it or am reminded of it—it what’s attached to all that that stirs up emotions that because I never dealt with them are still raw beneath the surface. The facility, Yelena, and the picture of Mikhail opened a door that allowed a much older image in, one that my subconscious had edited into the memory reel of Yelena, the facility, and Mikhail.

Now, when I see the bullet hit Mikhail in the head and drop to the ground in my mind, it’s quickly followed by a more terrifying one… One that has lingered like a dark shadow at the back of my mind for twelve years. One, I was never ready to deal with, and still .

How do I explain all that to anyone? Silence stretches between us. I close my eyes. Try to center myself. Breathe.

A hand touches my knee. Warm. Grounding. I open my eyes and find Oleksi watching me.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I nod. Just once.

“I’m sorry. I know you must have a million questions about the RMSAD.” I take a deep breath. “But I’ve done nothing but talk to Russian weirdos for five days.” I grin as his brows rise. “I just don’t want to talk anymore. My brain and senses have been high alert…” I swallow. “I’m not sure how to explain it without sounding like…”

“You know you’re the smartest person in the room?” He offers with a slow smile.

“I was going to say like Yelena Zorin!” The name sends a spark of anger through me that I didn’t quite expect.

I try to shake it off, but she’s back in my head. Breaking apart my life to expose nothing but lies and to show me just how little I know about my family… about me! The picture of Mikhail and how fucking strong his was hits me once again.

I can hear the thud and crunch of a pipe hitting bone. I saw the gash in his head—the scariest part is his sneer about Valeska not hitting hard enough wasn’t true. She hadn’t hit hard enough to kill him .

If he had been anyone else, the blows she’d given him to the head would have killed them. All it did to him was knock him out. He didn’t just get up and stagger about either. He got up and commanded a security team, then came after us like he’d had nothing but a mild bump to the head. It took a bullet to his brain to kill him…

I swallow again and close my eyes. What the fuck kind of genetic enhancement was Mikhail given? And while it’s not bad enough that things like that actually happen, my mother was the one who created that treatment. And then that nagging thought that’s been eating away at me since I learned my beautiful, loving, caring sister, Tara, was given the same treatment. I can’t help but wonder…

“Sabrina!” Oleksi’s soft voice cuts through my tormenting thoughts. His hand reaches out to move some hair behind my ear. “Where did you go?”

“I just have a lot on my mind.” I give him a tight smile. “Sorry. Just give me time.”

He leans in, presses his mouth to mine, soft at first, then deeper. Fiercer.

I respond like a woman drowning, fingers gripping his jacket, body arching toward his. It isn’t about lust. It’s about survival. It’s about feeling something that isn’t fear. It isn’t pain. Isn’t… guilt!

I pull him down with me into the moss, into the shadows of the trees. My hands are in his hair. His hands are under my fleece. Our breaths are harsh, tangled, raw.

Clothes are pushed aside. Unzipped and pulled down just enough.

His fingers slide between my thighs, and I whimper at the contact—needy, aching.

“Here?” he murmurs against my throat.

“Right fucking here,” I whisper.

We don’t need a bed.

We need each other.

Right now.

His cock pushes into me with a thrust that makes me gasp. He bites my shoulder to muffle a groan as I wrap my legs around him. His hand covers my mouth as I cry out, as he starts to ride me, hard, fast, and pushing us over the edge where, for a few blissful moments, our bodies feel like they explode as we orgasm, hit with wave after wave of sensation.

Until we’re both spent, panting, and a little more pain drains from me. Here, with him, everything still makes sense. He’s the one part of my life I know wasn’t orchestrated by my parents—this is mine, my new foundation.

Oleksi stays on top of me, forehead pressed to mine.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

My heart nearly bursts through my chest, and my breath catches in my throat. I feel tears start to burn my eyes, and I kiss him with such force, pouring everything I’m feeling into it. When we draw apart, my eyes meet his. “I love you, too.”

“That’s good.” He smiles, slowly pulling out of me. “Because I don’t ever plan to let you out of my life.”

“Good.” I smile, sitting up, straightening my clothes. “But I’m not going anywhere.” I put my hand on my stomach and smile. “Our baby needs his mother and father.”

Oleksis pulls his pants up and stands, looking down at me. “He?” He holds out his hand, and I put mine in it so he can help me up. “What makes you think it’s a boy?” He pulls some moss and twigs from my hair, helping me neaten it.

“Just a feeling.” I shrug and look at him. “If it is a boy...” I hold his eyes and swallow down the lump burning in my throat, but I’m unable to control the haze of tears that cloud my eyes. “I want to call him Leonid.”

I see his eyes widen, he pulls me to him and holds me. “I would’ve suggested the same name.”

“You know?” I look at him curiously.

He nods but doesn’t elaborate because Ivan calls us. Oleksi takes my hand and we go back to the group.

We hike for another two hours before I start seeing landmarks that feel familiar—old stone markers, the remains of a rusted fence, and then…

The gilded roofline of the Golden Palace catches the light between the trees.

My stomach flips. I remember the last time I was here with Oleksi’s cousin Radomir. We were looking for Radomir’s wife, my best friend, Liegh. I sigh in relief seeing the place. We’re close.

Oleksi moves beside me, slowing his pace. His voice is quiet, tentative.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” he begins. “And I’ve been trying to give you space. But I have a lot to tell you. A lot’s happened. A lot of truths?—”

I cut him off. “Are you about to tell me my parents were defectors and my mom used to work for the RMSAD?”

He stops. Blinks.

“Because I already know,” I say. “I met my psycho Aunt Yelena, my mother’s older sister.” I see him frown. “My dear, sadistic aunt could play a Bond villain.” I cross my arms, suddenly cold.

“Sabrina…” Oleksi says. “Your mother and grandparents are at the palace.”

That stops me dead, and the panic starts to rise, constricting my chest and squeezing my lungs.

“No.” I shake my head, forcing myself to breathe. “Just no.”

He goes still.

“Do you have any idea who those people are?” I look up at him.

“Your mother and grandparents have filled me in,” Oleksi tells me, and I’m pretty sure they’ve only told him what they wanted him to know.

“Every day while I was in the RMSAD, it was me against them. Against an enemy I didn’t even know I had, but strangely enough had been preparing to fight my entire life,” I say bitterly, knowing I’m not making sense. But he’s popped the lid off, and now I can’t stop, and I snort. “Keep your heads down, Sabrina and Tara. Remember, you can still be remarkable as a normal person. My parents drilled that into Tara and me, nearly every day, while we were growing up.” I clear my throat trying desperately to hold back the tears—fuck these hormones. “While every other parent was teaching their kids to read and write, we were being taught not to show anyone just how well we could read and write.”

“That’s fucked up,” Oleksi comments.

“Fucked up!” I splutter. “We innocently thought it was because our parents wanted us to have a normal life. They frightened us with tales of having to go to a special school for the gifted, and we wouldn’t want that as all our friends and family were in Vegas.”

“I’ve wanted to ask why you stayed at an ordinary school,” he admits. “Especially since you are extraordinary.”

“Like that fucking freak Mikhail!” I blurt out, and I see Oleksi’s look of shock. “See, they didn’t tell you everything, did they?”

“I don’t understand,” Oleksi says. “Are you saying that you’re…”

“I don’t know!” I shrug. “But my sister is. That’s why my parents fled Russia. Because the day after I was born, I was going to be taken to be an RMSAD test subject.”

He flinches and his face pales. “Tara is like Mikhail?”

“I think she might have been an improved model,” I sneer. “Because I know my sister and she’s never exhibited what that fucker did. Tara is super smart, but…” I swallow and look down.

“She’s not as smart as you.” He takes my other hand. “Surely your aunt would’ve let you know if you’d been genetically altered.”

“At first, I think she did.” A few tears escape my lids, and Oleksi wipes them away. “But thanks to my father’s relentless training on how to fail all the tests kids are given to test their intelligence, I knew how to make myself seem average.” I sniff. “And according to Yelena, being average is akin to having leprosy in my family.”

“Your mother is not your aunt,” Oleksi tries to placate me. “She may have kept your roots from you, but she did that to protect you.”

“No.” I shake my head. “She did that to protect herself.” I point towards the palace. “Because you know that monster that attacked me and abused his sister and his mother for years?” He nods. “Yelena didn’t make him. She’s not the architect of that treatment.” My voice drops, and my throat now feels raw. “My mother was.”

“You don’t know that for sure. You heard that from a woman you call a psychopath.” His grip tightens. “I know what a shock it must have been for you to find out about your parents.” His jaw clenches. “If you remember, two years ago I found out exactly who my father and uncle were. So I get it.” Before I can speak, he continues. “It may not have been as explosive and realizing your whole life was a lie…” He shakes his head. “But I get it. The person you thought your parents were was all a smoke screen. They may as well be actors playing a part.”

I look at him and blink. That’s exactly how it feels.

“So, I understand how you feel,” His voice drops. “At least you get to confront your mother.” His eyes narrow dangerously. “I never got the chance to do that to mine.” He takes a breath. “And I know one thing, your mother wasn’t faking being worried sick about you.”

“More like worried sick I was finally going to find out the truth,” I sneer.

“Sabrina—”

“No.” I step back. “That monster who attacked me? Mikhail? He was one of her experiments. He exists because of her.”

He’s silent. Doesn’t deny it.

“I need a minute,” I whisper.

“Take your time,” he says gently.

“No. I need a minute alone.”

His eyes tighten. “I don’t like leaving you alone out here.”

“I’m in the grounds of your uncle’s fortress. What’s going to happen?”

His jaw ticks. “Three minutes.”

“Fine.”

He hesitates, then presses a kiss to my lips. “Three minutes,” he says again, and walks away.

The moment he’s gone, my body betrays me.

My vision narrows. My chest tightens. I can’t breathe.

Fuck.

Is this… is this a panic attack?

My brain feels like it’s screaming at me, and every muscle in my body is coiled like a tightly wound spring. I need to move. To get away from here. I turn and run.

Anywhere. Nowhere.

Just away.

But I don’t get far.

I slam straight into a wall of muscle.

“Jesus—” I choke, looking up and up. “I said three minutes… just three…” My heart slams into my chest when I stare into a face I’ve never seen before and step back, nearly tripping over a log.

The giant of man, who is taller than Oleksi, reaches out and catches me. He has jet black hair and a face that looks like a master painted it—he is arguably the best looking man I’ve ever seen. In fact, I’d say he was fucking drop dead gorgeous, with his razor-sharp jaw and eyes the color of arctic ice. His grip on my arms is firm. Possessive even.

“Well,” he says. “That was easier than I thought.”

“Who the hell are you?” I gasp as his deep voice is rich and smooth as a fine brandy. I try to step out of his grasp, but his hands tighten on my arms.

“A messenger.”

I don’t believe that for a minute. This man doesn’t look like he’d do the bidding of anyone. No, he looked the type everyone jumped to do what he ordered.

“A messenger for whom?” My eyes narrow.

“General Ergorov.” The man’s words knock the air out of me.

“So you’re not a messenger then,” I say. “You’re more like a lackey dancing to his master’s whims.”

I see his eyes darken for a few seconds before he raises an eyebrow. “You’re mouthy for someone of your…” His eyes travel the length of me, and I have to stop myself from shuddering. “—stature.”

“And you don’t look like you’re someone who’d be doing anyone’s bidding,” I quip. “But here we are.” I shrug. “But I can save you some breath. I don’t want to hear anything that man has to say.”

“Oh, I think you will want to.” He watches me like a hawk, assessing me. “You see, the General is willing to forgive the kidnapping of his daughter…”

My brows rise. Fuck that was quick. “The general has a daughter?” I pull a face. “Can robots even have children?”

He just stares at me, ignoring my sass. “Like I was saying, the General will forgive you for kidnapping his daughter if your mother surrenders.”

I blink. “What?”

“Tell Mariya to meet Yelena tomorrow at the old swings. She’ll know where that is,” he says.

“Why don’t you tell her?”

“I was told to deliver the message to you,” the man answers.

“And if I don’t tell my mother or she doesn’t show?” I raise my brows. “What are you going to do? Drag me back to the detention center in hopes my mother will come save me.” I shake my head. “Then you’re all going to be disappointed because my mother and I… we’re not very close.”

“But she is close to your sister,” the man tells me, flooring me. “If your mother doesn’t yell at the old swings tomorrow…” He lets his threat hang in the air. “Your sister dies.”

The words gut me.

“You’re threatening Tara?”

“Just relaying the message.”

“Sabrina!” Oleksi’s voice cuts through the trees.

The man steps back. “Tomorrow. Or Tara’s body arrives in a body bag.”

“Sabrina!” Louder now.

I spin around.

When I turn back, the man is gone.

Oleksi crashes through the trees, frantic. “Sabrina! What the fuck? You can’t just vanish like that?—”

“I saw someone,” I gasp. “He was here.”

“Who?”

“A messenger. From Ergorov. He said—he said we have until tomorrow. My mother has to meet Yelena.”

His face hardens. “Or what?”

“Or Tara dies.”