Category: Fiction

52 STEFAN I’m halfway home when my phone rings. Taras’s name lights up the screen. “We have a problem.” I grip the steering wheel tighter. “What kind of problem?” “Another attack on the manor. No fatalities, but…” Silence. A tense emptiness that makes my blood run cold. “Taras, what the fuck happened?” He takes a

51 OLIVIA My hands are shaking as I pull up at the manor. The wedding planner meeting was a blur. I barely remember what Erica Renee looked like, what she said, what I may or may not have agreed to. The whole time, all I could think about was Natalia’s face. How her chignon will

50 OLIVIA The Eliot Hotel. I stand on the sidewalk for a full minute, clutching my purse, trying to convince myself this is a good idea. It’s not. I know it’s not. But I’m here anyway. I push through the revolving door and step into the lobby. I immediately feel like I’m making too much noise

49 STEFAN The sound of her voice lights a fuse in me. I see red. Pure, blinding red. Every muscle in my body locks. My jaw clamps down so hard I taste blood. The glass in my hand cracks—just a hairline fracture, but enough that scotch starts leaking between my fingers. All I can hear

48 STEFAN I’m still sitting in my office, staring at the dregs of my scotch long after Taras has left, when there’s a knock at the door. “What is it?” I ask without looking up. Arkady clears his throat as he shuffles on the threshold. “It’s Iakov, sir.” That gets my attention. I set down

47 OLIVIA I’m still standing outside Elena’s hospital room after talking over the doctors doing evening rounds when I hear the clatter of heels on the floor. That particular rhythm—sharp, precise, painfully impatient—can only belong to one person. “Olivia!” I turn and, sure enough, it’s her. My mother strides down the corridor like she owns

45 OLIVIA I’m reading an article on my phone about prenatal vitamins when I hear a soft groan. My head snaps up to see that Elena’s eyes are open. Not the foggy, medicated half-consciousness from yesterday, but actually open. Clear. Focused. Alive. “Elena?” I set my phone down and lean forward. “Elena, can you hear me?”

44 STEFAN I park in the hospital garage and take the elevator up to the ICU. My phone is humming constantly with updates from Taras—shipment schedules, security reports, questions about the new surveillance system at the manor. I answer them all mechanically. My mind is already in Elena’s room. It’s been two days since we

43 OLIVIA I hate hospitals. Always have. Even before I became a doctor, the fluorescent lights and sterile hallways made my skin crawl. That was probably my mom’s doing. Now, walking through the ICU at Mass General with Stefan’s hand gripping mine, I hate them even more. We’re directed to a private room at the