Page 15 of Pageant

There’s so much blood on my hands. Blood on my shirt. How the fuck does this happen to a woman? It’s like she’s been attacked, only the enemy is inside her.

My jaw clenches. And Ivan fucking put it there.

I stand in the waiting room for an hour until a doctor comes and finds me. I think she assumes I’m Lilia’s husband, and I don’t correct her. She explains that they did all they could, but Lilia lost the baby.

“Is Lilia all right? Can I see her?”

The doctor takes me through the doors and down stark gray corridors to a room with a narrow metal bed. Lilia is laying on it, face washed out, eyes hollow.

I sit down on the chair next to the bed, hesitate, and then reach for her hand. There’s a needle in the back and a plastic tube taped to her skin. I thread my tattooed fingers through hers and hold on.

For a long time, Lilia doesn’t seem to know I’m there. Then she turns to me and whispers, “Maybe it’s better this way. Look at what I was bringing a child into.”

People have children in all kinds of shitty situations. Her husband is a criminal who’s been arrested, but her life is protected and luxurious. And she already loved that baby. Lilia’s love. What can a person need beyond that?

I shift to the edge of the bed and cup her face in my hands. “One day you will have beautiful child, and he will have everything because he will have you.”

Lilia’s face crumples and her eyes fill with tears. “Elyah, I want my baby back.”

I draw her into my arms and hold her close. Am I the lowest creature in the world for taking pleasure from this moment as she’s in the midst of pain? I don’t care. I don’t care. My arms wrap around her as she sobs into my chest, and I hold her tight.

I’ll protect her. If Ivan goes to prison, I’ll never leave her side.

Footsteps are coming down the hall. Heavy, familiar footsteps, and my heart sinks.

I stand up and wrench Lilia’s hands from around my neck. When Ivan enters the room, I’m standing four feet away with my back against the wall, face impassive and arms folded.

Just a bodyguard. Just a driver.

There’s barely controlled rage on Ivan’s face. The police have wound him up all day and turned him into a snorting, furious bull, and now they’ve unleashed him on his wife. Without saying one word to Lilia, Ivan lifts his hand and backhands her across the face. Lilia’s head snaps to one side and she cries out.

“You lost my child?” he bellows at her.

I step forward. “Hey!”

Ivan rounds on me, his eyes blazing with fury. “Have you got something to say?”

Over his shoulder, Lilia has one hand pressed over her cheek. Her eyes are huge and scared and she shakes her head at me.

Ivan plants his hands on my shoulders, turns me around, and shoves me out of the room. The door slams in my face. I grasp the door handle, ready to wrench it open and kill him with my bare hands. The only sound from the other side of the door is soft, broken weeping. I stand there listening to Lilia cry. Broken-hearted sobbing that claws at my guts.

Ivan doesn’t say one fucking word.

He could come out at any moment and find me still standing there, but I can’t walk away. I’m in prison again, only this prison has walls of pure torment, and there’s no escape.

* * *

Lilia is dischargedfrom the hospital a day later, and I buy a new shirt.

When she opens the door, I smile in greeting. Nothing’s wrong. I’m not going to remind her of the worst day of her life. I never held her. I didn’t see her husband hit her. I pretend not to notice that she’s pale, her cheeks are thin, and her eyes are haunted. “Dobroe utro,Lilia.”

“Good morning, Elyah.” Her hand slides down the door and she turns away.

I follow her into the kitchen and take my usual spot at the counter. I’ve already heard from Dima and Vasily what happened with Ivan at the police station. They arrested him for money laundering, but his lawyer found a problem with the warrant, and he was let go on a technicality. I doubt they’ll find any evidence on Ivan’s devices. He’s far too clever to leave anything incriminating on hard drives and phones that the police can find.

Lilia puts a mug of coffee in front of me. “You look different today. Is that a new shirt?”

I glance down at the soft, patterned shirt in shades of cream, gray, and sea green. It hugs my shoulders and biceps. The shop assistant couldn’t stop touching me when I was trying it on. “I was on Vine Street yesterday, where the little shops are.”

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