Page 17

Her name was Maria. Doctor Maria. And I knew this because, for the past five weeks after the announcement of my pregnancy, I’d been visiting her hospital for routine checkups.

The smell of antiseptic lingered in the air as I sat in the small, brightly lit waiting room. The muted sound of a news anchor’s voice played from the TV mounted in the corner. I rested my hands on my lap, admiring the new bracelet Timur had gotten me two nights ago. I smoothed out invisible wrinkles in my dress, pretending I wasn’t completely out of place here.

The yellow on my dress made me smile.

Pchelka.

Timur would have been here if he could. I told myself that over and over, trying to drown out the ache of his absence. An important meeting, he said. A necessity. Still, I couldn’t help but wish he’d been able to push it aside, even just for an hour. On all those days, my husband accompanied me. All those days except today.

Apart from this exception, I’d had unlimited access to Timur Yezhov’s supportive side. It surprised me how concerned he’d been and the lengths he went to convince me that he was serious about the promise he had made: making sure I was on a strict healthy diet, getting enough rest, being happy all the time, and having sex.

Good, great sex.

Snapping out of it, I sprung my head up. Instead of my loving husband—who would rather take a bullet than admit that he cared—Ivan, one of his men, stood by the door, his broad frame a silent reassurance. His face was as expressionless as ever, but I could tell his eyes were scanning the room, watching everyone who came and went. I’d learned not to expect conversation from him. He wasn’t here for me; he was here on Timur’s orders. A job, nothing more.

“Serena Yezhov?” The nurse’s voice jolted me from my thoughts.

Yezhov .

When had it dawned on me that I no longer answered to Skye as my last name? It didn’t matter; I was adjusting pretty fast.

I stood quickly, brushing my palms against my dress before following her into the corridor. Ivan moved with me, shadowing my every step.

“It’s just a routine checkup,” I said over my shoulder, though I wasn’t sure why I bothered. Ivan didn’t respond; he just kept walking a few paces behind.

The nurse led me into an examination room, gesturing for me to take a seat on the table. “Your doctor will be with you shortly,” she said before disappearing through the door.

The silence in the room felt heavier without the background noise of the waiting area. Ivan stationed himself by the door, his arms crossed and eyes fixed on some indeterminate point on the wall.

I stared at the stark white walls, counting the seconds until Doctor Maria arrived. The longer I waited, the more my thoughts wandered. Was Timur thinking about me right now? Would he call when his business for the day was over?

The door creaked open, and Maria walked in, gray eyes twinkling, a warm smile on her face. “Good afternoon, Serena. How are you feeling today?”

“I’m fine,” I replied, though the words felt automatic, detached.

“Your husband didn’t accompany you today?”

Wouldn’t you have loved to have him here?

I took my eyes to the ceiling. “No, he didn’t.”

She nodded, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Let’s see how everything looks.”

As she began the examination, I focused on the rhythmic beeping of the monitor, letting it lull me into a state of calm. The moment felt surreal, like I was drifting through someone else’s life.

Everything checked out as expected, just like I knew it would. Still, I couldn’t shake the strange sense of unease as I left the examination room, Ivan falling into step beside me.

I glanced up at him as we walked toward the exit. “Did Timur say when he’d be done with his meeting?”

After he promised to protect me and our child, getting me a phone was the first thing he did. But I could only call him at certain hours for personal or domestic reasons. Never to talk about his work.

This hour was not one of those hours, and even if I called, he wouldn’t answer—not immediately, anyway. So, Ivan was my only hope of knowing how long I had to wait before I saw my husband again.

Ivan didn’t look at me, his voice as flat as ever. “He’ll call when he’s free.”

I nodded, wrapping my arms around myself as we stepped out into the cool afternoon air. For now, that would have to be enough.

I adjusted the strap of my bag and glanced toward the car where Ivan had hurriedly strode over to wait. Behind his tinted sunglasses, his expression was unreadable. I was about to start walking toward him when something—or rather, someone—caught my eye.

At first, I wasn’t sure. He was standing near the edge of the parking lot, leaning slightly against a lamppost as if he needed it for support. But then the tilt of his head, the shape of his stance—it all clicked.

Jay .

My breath caught in my throat. I hadn’t seen him in almost two months, not since Timur laid down his unshakable rule: no contact. I tried to move on, to bury my memories of the life we’d lived, the way his presence had always made me feel…lighter. But here he was, looking anything but light.

A Band-Aid stretched across his temple, a stark contrast against his fair skin. Another wrapped around his forearm, and even from this distance, I could see how stiffly he held himself. He was hurt. Badly, by the looks of it.

I didn’t think. My feet moved on their own, stepping off the curb as I closed the distance between us. A hundred thoughts raced through my mind: What happened to him? How did he get hurt?

Most importantly, did Timur know?

“Jay,” I called out softly, almost afraid to say his name too loudly, as if speaking it might summon some unseen force to pull us apart again.

He turned at the sound, his eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, I saw the same rush of recognition in his gaze. But then I watched as he slid into the passenger seat of a sleek black sedan, his movements sluggish.

Another man, someone I didn’t recognize, got into the driver’s seat, and the car rolled forward, merging into the steady stream of traffic. My chest tightened as questions flooded my mind.

Who was that?

Where was Jay going?

Why did he look so…distant?

I glanced at Ivan, standing by the entrance of the hospital, patting his pockets for the keys. He’d left them somewhere inside, probably at the reception desk. He was muttering something under his breath, too preoccupied to notice the car pulling away.

My heartbeat thudded louder than the buzz of the city around me. I should stay put. Timur had made it clear—I wasn’t to contact Jay under any circumstances. But the sight of him—his disheveled hair, the Band-Aid on his temple—kept replaying in my mind. He looked hurt, and something in his expression gnawed at me. I couldn’t ignore it. I couldn’t just sit here.

My hand trembled as I slid into the driver’s seat. One time, when we were younger, Jay showed me how to hotwire a car. I thought it was illegal and completely wrong, but nothing about the current state of my life seemed right at the moment.

Before I could think of tampering with the ignition, I saw the keys in the console. Ivan must have forgotten that he’d left them there.

I didn’t think; I just acted. Fumbling with the keys and successfully starting it, I felt the car hum to life beneath my fingers. A quick glance at the rearview mirror confirmed that Ivan was still inside the building. My foot pressed down on the gas before my mind could catch up to the recklessness of what I was doing.

The sedan was already a few cars ahead, weaving through traffic. I followed at a safe distance, gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. The world outside blurred into a mess of storefronts, headlights, and pedestrians, but my focus remained fixed on the car ahead.

“What am I doing?”

My voice was shaking, and every nerve in my body screamed that I should turn back and call Timur instead. However, the thought of losing sight of Jay again overpowered the guilt.

I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing with all the ways this could go horribly wrong. But the image of Jay, hurt and alone, pushed me forward.

I made the turn, my car blending into the shadows of the narrow road.

I had no plan or idea of what I would do if they stopped or saw me. All I knew was that I had to keep going. Jay was somewhere ahead, and I wasn’t ready to let him disappear again.

I pressed the horn again, the sharp honk slicing through the cars ahead.

“Stop, Jay,” I whispered, though he couldn’t hear me. The car didn’t slow. If anything, it sped up, weaving down the deserted road like he was trying to shake me. My pulse quickened. I leaned forward, gripping the wheel harder, my foot pressing heavier on the gas.

Eventually, his car veered off the main road and headed down a narrow, gravelly path. I followed, ignoring the sharp pangs of fear rising in my chest. It felt like we were heading nowhere, the darkness stretching endlessly on either side of us. But then, suddenly, his brake lights flashed, and the car rolled to a stop in the middle of what looked like an empty lot surrounded by trees.

I slammed on the brakes and threw the car into park, rushing out before I could think twice. Jay’s door opened, and so did the passengers, a man I didn’t recognize stepping out beside him. He was tall, as tall as my brother; he had cold eyes like Timur’s, and he wore a smile that promised more danger than safety.

Tipping up his sharp chin, he tucked his hands into his pockets. “Pleased to finally meet you, Serena Skye. I’m Matteo Colombo, Jay’s friend.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I might have feared that I’d experienced a mini heart attack, and though his name meant nothing to me right now, that sinking feeling returned.

Something was definitely wrong.

I didn’t even bother correcting him on my last name. My brother was more important.

“Jay!” I ran to him, throwing my arms around his neck and holding him tightly. He stiffened, but I didn’t let go.

“What happened?” I demanded, pulling back just enough to look at him. My hands cupped his face, my thumb brushing against the edge of the Band-Aid on his forehead. “Why are you hurt? Who did this to you?”

“Serena,” he said, his voice rough, like it had been scraped against sandpaper. He didn’t smile. That alone sent a pang through my chest. His eyes darted to Matteo, who stood a few feet away, watching us with a guarded expression.

“Talk to me,” I said, my voice breaking. “I was worried about you. I—”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but his eyes betrayed him. They darted away, scanning the parking lot like he expected someone to appear out of nowhere.

“Fine? Don’t be ridiculous.” My throat tightened, and I shook my head, refusing to cry. “You’re hurt, Jay. I saw you, and I couldn’t just…I couldn’t stay away.”

He sighed, his hands gripping my arms gently as he stepped back, putting a small but unbearable distance between us. Then I saw him lift his hand to his head, fingers grazing the edge of the Band-Aid stuck over his temple. It had drawn my attention the moment I spotted him earlier, stirring an ache of worry that refused to leave. But now, as his fingers peeled it away, the realization hit me like a punch to the chest. There was no wound. No cut. No bruise. Just smooth, unmarked skin.

This was my brother, my little brother, the same one I’d practically raised as though I was his mother. Shocked, I dropped my hands from his arms, stepping further away from this young man I no longer recognized.

Standing by the lamppost, the Band-Aid, driving away as soon as he knew I’d recognized him….

“Jay?” My voice wavered, trembling under the weight of confusion and growing dread. “You were…faking?”

I couldn’t remember the last time I cried. Timur had made sure my eyes remained tear-free for weeks. But now, how ironic it was that seeing my brother would spring painful tears to my eyes.

His eyes softened with something I couldn’t quite place—perhaps regret or something darker. He stepped closer, his movements measured, as if I might bolt.

“Serena,” he said, voice low and calm. Too calm. “I didn’t want to do this, but you’ve left me no choice. You won’t understand now, but I promise…I’m going to make everything alright.”

“What are you talking about?” I stumbled back, panic rising in my throat like bile. My hands went to the door handle behind me, but he lunged forward before I could grasp it.

Something cold and sharp pricked my arm. I looked down to see the syringe in his hand, the needle already buried in my skin.

“No!” I gasped, yanking my arm away too late. I slapped at his hand, but he held firm, his grip unrelenting.

“Shh,” he murmured, pulling the needle away and pocketing it in one smooth motion. “Don’t fight it, Serena. Just trust me, okay? It’s always been you and me against the world. It still is. I’m here for you. I always will be.”

The world tilted. My vision blurred, swimming with distorted colors and shapes. “Jay,” I choked, my legs buckling beneath me. He caught me before I could hit the ground, his arms wrapping around me like a lifeline I didn’t want.

Timur….

I wanted to scream my husband’s name, to have him catch me in his arms instead, to hold me and promise me that everything would be okay.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Jay whispered instead, his voice echoing in my mind as darkness consumed me.

Then, there was nothing.