Page 31 of Filthy Lies

For now, this fragile peace buys us time.

But blood always demands more blood.

Always.

13

ROWAN

The nightmare always starts the same way.

I’m outside Vince’s panic room, crawling on hands and knees, blood hot and wet between my legs. The code panel is just out of reach, my fingers stretching, straining.

One number left. Just one.

Then the contraction hits—a vicious hammer fist of pain that makes my vision go white. I fall.

And when it clears, they’re there. Shadows with guns, speaking Russian. Hands grabbing me. Sofiya kicking inside me, desperate to escape.

I wake gasping, sweat-soaked, my hands cupping my stomach even though Sofiya is no longer there.

“Just a dream,” I whisper to the dark. “Just a dream.”

But it wasn’t just a dream.

It happened.

Two weeks ago, it all happened.

I look over at the bassinet beside our bed. Sofiya sleeps, her tiny chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. She has no idea how she came into this world. No memory of the concrete floor or the bloodstained mattress.

Lucky her.

I slide out of bed, careful not to wake Vince. He’s a light sleeper these days. Keeps one eye open, even in rest. The dark circles under his eyes match mine. Neither of us has slept properly since it happened.

In the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face and avoid my reflection. I know what I’ll see—hollow eyes, sharp cheekbones, a woman still haunted by what she endured.

Physical recovery is one thing. The doctors that Vince brings to check on me say I’m healing well, all things considered.

But the other part? The part where I close my eyes and feel phantom hands grabbing me? Where every unexpected noise sends my heart racing?

That’s a different story.

When I return to the bedroom, Vince is sitting up, already reaching for his gun on the nightstand.

“It’s just me,” I say quickly.

He relaxes, but only slightly. “Nightmare again?”

I nod as I slide back into bed. “The same one.”

His arm wraps around me. “You’re safe now. Both of you.”

“I know.”

But do I? Does anyone in this life ever feel truly safe?

“Sofiya was making little noises in her sleep earlier,” I say as a means of changing the subject. “She scrunches her nose just like you do when you’re thinking.”

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