Lia’s condition is critical.
I haven’t been able to get over that piece of information ever since Dr. Putin said it. He’s on our payroll, but since I was the one who brought him to the Bratva, he knows when he should keep secrets for me.
He won’t tell a soul about Lia’s injury. Not even the Pakhan himself. That is, if he wants to protect his family from my wrath.
Lia’s abdomen wound was indeed deep and she needed stitches for it, and fortunately, no internal organs were harmed. Her freezing temperature has returned to normal, thanks to how quickly we got her here.
But the fact remains, she’s still not opening her eyes.
Dr. Putin said there’s no brain swelling, but she must’ve hit the water hard enough to cause a blackout.
That was yesterday.
It’s been a whole day since she threw herself off the cliff.
A whole day since she last opened her eyes.
A whole day of me pacing the length of her hospital room or holding her delicate hand in mine.
After I changed into dry clothes, I never left her side. Dr. Putin had to stitch my bicep wound while I was in her room.
I thumb the soft flesh of her wrist, gliding my finger over the visible blue veins. “What have you done, Lenochka? Why?”
If she hears me, she doesn’t show a sign of it. The question is useless, anyway, since I already know the answer. I know why she thought about giving up.
To leave me.
I was suffocating her, she said.
I was torturing her.
Those words dug a deep black hole into my soul, perhaps even worse than when she confirmed that she was cheating on me.
I’ve become insufferable in the past months. Every time I looked at her, I recalled that she let another man touch her, that she was protecting him from me, and my anger grew worse with each passing day.
It mounted and heightened and I took it out on her cunt, ass, and flesh. I marked her and hurt her to chase away the red mist.
But that wasn’t enough.
Whenever I finished, the mist returned with a vengeance, and all I could see was her opening her legs for another man. Her moaning and whimpering and crying in front of someone that’s not me.
My anger turned into rage and I had to take a step—or a few—back so I wouldn’t hurt her to the point of no return.
I hated what she had done.
I hated her sometimes.
And because of that, I apparently tortured her, smothered her, and drove her to the edge of a cliff where death was better than being with me.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, running a hand through my hair.
How will I be able to take a step in a different direction now? Because I have to or I will lose her for good.
The door slides open, then closed. I don’t lift my head as heavy footsteps echo on the floor.
Both Kolya and Yan stand in my peripheral vision, hands crossed in front of them. My two guards have been with me since I was young because my father groomed them to keep an eye on me. Kolya is my age while Yan is a few years younger than Lia. They’re both orphans and originate from the slums of Russia, which made them the perfect target for Dad’s schemes.
What he didn’t count on was that I would form a connection with them and that their loyalty would be absolute to me. Not him. Not the brotherhood. Me. Or at least Kolya’s is. Yan has been switching sides between my wife and me ever since she came into the picture.
The fact remains, I trust my men. Not only did we go through my father’s tyranny together, but also our military training. A bond formed between us after we saw each other at our worst, and that can’t be bought with material things.
“Who was it?” I ask with apathetic calm. “Who helped her?”
“We traced the signal to the Pakhan’s house before she headed to the forest,” Kolya says. “So she could’ve met anyone there.”
I tap my forefinger against my thigh. “Not Sergei since he dislikes her. If Vladimir was there, he wouldn’t have cared enough about her. That only leaves Rai.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Kolya asks. “If you attack her openly, everyone else might know about Mrs. Volkov’s accident.”
“I’ll find a way.”
“That’s not what’s important right now,” Yan snaps. “Lia almost died.”
My head tilts to the side to meet his harsh glare. “Watch your fucking tone if you don’t want your tongue cut out, and she’s Mrs. Volkov to you.”
“I don’t care if you cut my tongue or my limbs, but someone obviously needs to tell you this, Boss.”
“Yan,” Kolya warns.
“Shut the fuck up, Kolya. You should’ve told him this a long time ago, but you chose not to and blindly took his side.” Yan breathes harshly through his nostrils, his anger still directed at me. “She was suffering and you knew it, but you chose to believe she cheated on you and let her bear your ruthless wrath. When the fuck could she even cheat on you when we shadowed her every step? She lost her previous life and was adapting to yours. She never tried to escape after that one time, because deep down, she wanted to be with you and Jeremy, but you had to suffocate her.”
I release a long breath, choosing to ignore Yan’s insolence for now. “Are you done?”
“No.” He swallows, his voice losing some of the anger. “I don’t know why the fuck she said she cheated on you, but I’m guessing it was because she figured out you were using her for being Lazlo’s illegitimate daughter.”
I narrow my eyes. “She said that?”
“She didn’t have to. I could feel it.”
“So now you share a telepathic connection with her?”
“No…?” he asks, unsure. It’s the right choice of words. If he had said he did have that connection, I would’ve killed him.
I already hate that she shares an easy friendship with Yan. That she smiles at him more than she does at me lately. And while I’ve wanted to snuff it out since the beginning, even I realize how much she’s needed a friend. Kolya also said that it would be smarter to let her be friends with her guard rather than seeing him as a threat.
“Just talk to her without being closed off.” Yan sighs. “Then you can kill me.”
“I also don’t see why she shouldn’t know her place in the great scheme of things,” Kolya says.
“What?” I ask.
“She’s been your wife for six years and if she learns about everything, it will prepare her in case something happens.”
Yan holds him by the shoulder. “Fucking finally! That’s what I’ve been saying all along.”
I stare back at Lia. They think I’m doing this to keep her in the dark, when everything I’ve done was to protect her.
Her childhood wasn’t the best and I know how she feels about my world, so I’ve been trying my fucking hardest to keep her as far away from it as I can.
That, and I didn’t want her to meet my mother’s fate if her true identity is discovered.
I halt tapping my finger. “How about the other one?”
“The other one?” Yan frowns.
“The fake Lia.” I give him a glare. But on the bright side, even he couldn’t tell her apart from my Lenochka.
“Her name is Winter Cavanaugh, twenty-seven, American,” Kolya starts. “She’s been homeless for a few months after having a stillborn. The child’s father is unknown. She has an alcohol addiction and she comes from a lower-class background.”
“Is there more information about her parents?”
“Not really, but I’ll look further into it.”
“How about her medical condition?”
“She’s in a coma.”
“Keep her in the guest house until I figure out what to do with her. I don’t want Lia’s lookalike roaming the streets.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Lia’s fingers twitch in my hand and her eyes move beneath her lids before she slowly opens them.
“Call Dr. Putin,” I order, then lean forward as Kolya gets out of the room.
My wife blinks a few times, and as I witness life slowly creeping back into her, I make a vow to get her back, to make things right.
Somehow.
“Hey.” I stroke her chin and cheek. “How are you feeling, Lenochka?”
She stares at the ceiling, blinking slowly, but shows no signs of hearing me.
“Lia. I know you’re mad at me, but look at me.”
She doesn’t.
Instead, she’s limp, her numb expression making her blue eyes muted, almost like a haze has covered them.
“Lia,” I call again.
No sound or movement.
“There’s something wrong with her, Boss.” Yan is on the other side, watching the rapid rise of her heartbeat on the machine, which beeps at an alarming rate as she remains still, staring at nothing.
Her lips twitch and she releases a sound. I lean over to be able to hear her words. They’re low, haunted, and stab me straight in the fucking chest.
“Winter… My name is Winter…”
Then her eyes roll to the back of her head and she loses consciousness.
