Page 40 of The Fire Beneath the Frost

The twist in my stomach loosened.Not all the way, but enough to breathe again.Enough to keep me standing.

Vera turned, heels clicking against the concrete, and walked straight toward me.I turned back to my loom and tried to look busy.

She stopped beside me and leaned in close, voice syrupy and sweet.

“I hope you boys had fun last night,” she said, then gave me a little wink and walked away.

My heart stopped.

I stared at the loom, seeing nothing.Had she heard something?Seen us?Was she warning me?Or did she somehow already know?

She disappeared through the door like nothing had happened, and I was left standing in the din of machines, hands still, sweat prickling the back of my neck despite the chill.

Stolen moments.That’s all this was ever going to be.Guilt and silence and the space between things.Love wasn’t illegal, but ours was.Not because of any law—though there were plenty—but because of life.Because of what people expected us to be.

By the time the end-of-shift whistle screamed, I was half-numb.My boots echoed on the concrete as I stepped out into the icy twilight.

And parked just outside the gate was my father, sitting in his blue Lada Samara.

Petyr stood beside me, arms crossed, eyebrows lifted as if to say what the hell is this?I slowed down, my heartbeat tapping a warning in my ribs.The window rolled down, and there he was—my father, Ivan—stern as ever, expression unreadable.

I glanced at Petyr.“This is my father,” I murmured.“I guess he’s picking me up.”

Petyr nodded once, noncommittal.Said nothing.His eyes didn’t leave mine, though.Not even when Vera came striding toward us from the factory door.

I couldn’t do this right now.Whatever she knew, whatever she thought she knew, it would have to wait.

“Goodbye,” I muttered, and slipped into the car.

The door shut behind me with a solid thunk, and just like that, the world outside disappeared.

Inside the car, it was quiet.Warm.My father said nothing as he pulled away from the curb.Neither did I.

The car rumbled over a cracked patch of road, and I slouched lower in the passenger seat, body aching from the weight of little sleep and too many emotions.My eyes burned, lids heavy.Petyr’s silhouette had disappeared in the rearview mirror the moment we turned the corner.Vera had waved, but I couldn’t even look at her.I didn’t trust the expression I’d wear if I did.

The silence inside the car was thick, almost cloying.I heard the click of my father’s jaw as he ground his teeth and heard the leather of his gloves creaking against the steering wheel.I shut my eyes, just for a second.Just to rest them.

The darkness behind my lids was strangely comforting.Safer.I let my mind drift.Not to Petyr, exactly, but to the way I’d felt in his arms.The warmth, and the certainty.The terrifying clarity of it all.I could’ve slept right there in his bed for a hundred years, as long as he stayed beside me.

Then I heard it, just under Papa’s breath.A low grumble.A curse, maybe.Or my name?I couldn’t tell.

The car slowed to a stop, brakes whining.I blinked back into the world and found we were sitting at a traffic light.My father’s hand reached out, rough and sudden, and clamped onto my forearm.

I turned to look at him.

His eyes didn’t meet mine, but his jaw clenched hard enough to crack a stone.Finally, he muttered through clenched teeth:

“Where the hell were you last night?”

ChapterTwelve

Dimitri

Ididn’t know what to say.My father’s question hung in the air like a trap snapping shut around my throat.Where the hell were you last night?

I hadn’t planned this.The night with Petyr was a secret, a fragile thing that hadn’t even felt real until this morning.I wasn’t ready to explain.Hell, I wasn’t ready to lie about it either.

So I went on the offense.

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