Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“I know!" I cry, my voice breaking. "Don’t you understand that I know that? But I can’t just wave a magic wand and become somebody else."
"Neither can I!" he snaps back.
It’s a fair point, and I know it. I try to draw back, to lean into being an adult instead of a headstrong child. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”
Finally, he blows out a breath. "Aleks said you all needed food, water, and rest."
"So do you."
"I can’t sleep, knowing he’s out there, knowing he’s coming after you!"
I shake my head. "You’ll have to. What are you going to do—run on fumes for five days? Ten days? A month, whatever it takes?"
He groans, blowing out another breath in frustration. He walks over to a small refrigerator in the corner of the room that I hadn’t noticed before. "We have emergency food reserves in here. Eat."
“Only if you do.” If I have to adult, so does he.
He opens it, takes out a meal replacement bar and a bottle of water, and hands them to me, then gets one of each for himself. I’m no fool, so I eat the bar, even though it tastes like sweetened chalk, and I drink the entire bottle of water.
I walk to the bathroom and splash water on my face. I don’t know how I can feel as if my insides have been stirred around with a spoon and baked, yet I still look totally fine. If anything, the scar on my face seems more pronounced than before, but that’s probably because I need some sleep. The scar feels weirdly like a symbol of our broken relationship.
Ollie is talking on the phone in rapid Russian, probably going over whatever he and his brothers have found.
"How is Isabella? Any update on her?"
He looks at me. "She’s all right," he says. "She’s still there. She’s asking for you."
"Me?"
He shakes his head. "She says there’s something she needs to tell you, but she won’t say what."
I frown. What would she need to tell me?
"So? Are we going there?" I ask, even though I know that’s impossible. "How is she supposed to tell me what I need to know?"
“Of course not. You’ll talk on the phone.”
Right. If we’re sitting ducks, it makes no sense to bring the pregnant one here.
I take the phone and answer the call. “Isabella? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Isabella replies, her voice steady but with a hint of weariness. "I had a scare, but nothing serious. Apparently, this can happen sometimes. Lucky me."
"Why are you bleeding? What happened?" I ask, anxiety tightening in my chest.
"They told me the cramping and bleeding are unrelated. Some women just have a heightened sensitivity, which can cause light or even heavy bleeding. They mentioned something about a pregnancy hemorrhage—it’s where blood collects between the uterus or something. It sounds terrifying, but they assured me it often resolves on its own and doesn't harm the baby. As for the cramping, it’s just dehydration. They gave me fluids through an IV, and I’ll be able to come home soon."
Ollie watches me closely, with that intense expression he gets sometimes—his eyes narrowed, arms crossed over his chest. He’s perched on the edge of the bed, his brow furrowed, green eyes blazing with intensity.
"I'm so glad to hear that," I say, exhaling with relief. There are so few people I truly care about in this world and knowing at least one of them is safe brings me some measure of comfort. She needs to carry this pregnancy to term safely.
Isabella’s tone shifts, becoming more serious. "We need to talk, Renata. And while I trust my husband and yours, what I need to tell you is highly confidential.” Her voice lowers. “I sent an encrypted message to your phone. You need to step away from Ollie and listen to it. Do you understand?"
My heart beats faster, and my skin feels prickly. I swallow hard and nod, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "Where’s Lev?" I ask, keeping my tone deliberately light.
"Oh, he stepped out to get me something to eat," she says sweetly. "Please confirm you heard what I said."
"I did. I’ll be in touch. Thank you so much for letting me know."
I hang up the phone, my heart pounding. I hate lying—it feels wrong, but I need to find out what she sent me. What is this about?
"And?" Ollie’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
"She just wanted to talk about, you know, girl stuff," I say, shaking my head. I force a yawn. "I’m exhausted. We were talking about things like hemorrhoids, bleeding, and periods. Do you really want the details?"
Ollie stares at me, unblinking, clearly unconvinced. He doesn’t buy it for a second. How am I going to get my phone without him noticing?
I’ll have to wait until he’s in the shower, distracted, or maybe even awake in the middle of the night. I’ll find a way.