Page 120 of Cruel Juliet

“I have.” I pause, then add, “And Sima wants to help, too. She’s good with logistics. You’ll have both of us to lean on.”

Kira nods slowly. I can tell she still isn’t convinced, but I don’t blame her. The enormity of what Dimitri is facing would scare anyone. “Thank you. That’s… good to know.”

When I turn to leave, she steps forward, as if she wants to stop me. Her hand twitches like she’s about to touch my arm but thinks better of it.

“Petyr,” she says quietly, “I didn’t mean to offend you. I just worry. About all of us.”

I glance back at her. “I know.”

As I walk out, I feel her watching me. She means well, but she doesn’t understand. Not about Sima or what we’ve built.

It started out rocky, but we clawed our way out of that mess. For Lilia’s sake and ours.

And I’ll be damned if anyone—even Kira—makes me doubt it.

47

PETYR

The rest of the day, I can’t stop replaying Kira’s words in my head.

She meant well. I know she did. But what she said keeps sticking with me. The possibility of Sima running again.

I told her no fucking way. That I’m sure she’d never do it.

But the truth is, that certainty doesn’t come easy anymore. Not after everything that’s happened.

I spend the day in meetings, my mind elsewhere. Every order I give feels mechanical. The idea that Sima might still be scared enough to run—still looking over her shoulder even after all this time—it just won’t fucking let go.

She’s right to be uneasy. Our secrets nearly destroyed us both. I kept pushing, tried to force her to submit, and she kept pulling away, terrified of me.

By the time I understood, it was almost too late.

We survived it, somehow. Built something better out of the wreckage. But are we being completely honest with each other now?

I want to believe we are. I tell myself that. That we’ve cleared the air, healed our wounds.

And yet, there’s a shadow in her eyes sometimes when she looks at me, something I can’t read. And I know she’s been agonizing about what I said—me wanting an heir. It took me pushing for her to confess what was worrying her, and I don’t like that. I’d have preferred she just told me outright.

Then again, I’m doing the same thing now. Worrying without saying a word to her.

A year ago, it wouldn’t have struck me as wrong. Just normal. How I do things. I’m not a talker, never have been. No reason to change that.

But now, I don’t want to make the same mistakes. I don’t want Sima to think she’s just a piece of the machine, something useful only for what she can give me. To be scared and uneasy and not know how to approach me about it.

By the time I pull into the driveway, it’s already dark. The house glows warm from the windows, quiet except for the faint hum of Lilia’s sound machine. Her favorite lullaby.

I hang my coat, loosen my tie, and find Sima in the kitchen.

She looks up when she sees me. “Hey there, stranger.”

“Hi.” I peck her on the lips. “How’d it go today?”

“Good.” Her smile feels real. “Got through the whole day with only minimal napping. I hear they’re considering me for a medal.”

I suppress a smirk. “They should.”

It would be so easy to slip back into our banter and forget it. Let Kira’s words roll off for good. Ignore the knot of unease in my gut until it goes away on its own. Once, it’s exactly what I would have done.