Page 68 of Tattooed Vow

My brain scrambles to make sense of what is happening. “Where's Dimitri? And Aleksandr?” They are the only reason I’m still alive. The only barrier between me and Morozov's wrath.

“They're securing the perimeter,” Elena replies curtly. “Come. Quickly.”

We race through the mansion's east wing, past priceless artwork and antique furniture that no longer seems important. All that matters is reaching safety. Reaching Talia and the children.

A distant explosion rocks the mansion, and I nearly stumble.

“They've breached the outer gate,” Elena whispers, her grip on my arm tightening.

We reach a nondescript doorway that leads to a basement stairwell I've never seen before. Elena punches a code into a hidden keypad, and the door slides open, revealing a concrete passageway lit by harsh fluorescent lights.

“Down there,” she instructs. “Third door on the right. Mrs. Avilov is expecting you.”

“Aren't you coming?” I ask, suddenly terrified at the thought of going alone.

Elena shakes her head. “I have other duties. Go. You'll be safe there.”

I descend the stairs on trembling legs, the distant sounds of chaos muffled as I move deeper beneath the mansion. The corridor is cold and utilitarian. I count doors as I pass them:one... two... three.

I knock once, then twice more in quick succession.

The steel door, which must be several inches thick, opens with surprising swiftness. Talia pulls me inside before sealing us in with mechanical thunks and hisses as locks engage.

“Sandy! Thank God,” Talia breathes, briefly pressing her forehead to mine in relief.

“Auntie Sandy!” Two small bodies collide with me as soon as I’m inside. My niece and nephew cling to me, their faces pale but composed. They are Avilov children, after all. They've been drilled on security protocols since they were old enough to walk.

“I'm here, I'm here,” I soothe, dropping to my knees to pull them into my arms. “Everything's going to be fine.” The lie tastes sour, but I force a smile for them.

The panic room is surprisingly spacious. It’s more of a bunker than a room. It contains a small living area, kitchenette, bathroom, and what appears to be sleeping quarters behind a partition. Monitors line one wall, displaying camera feeds from various locations around the estate. My eyes immediately dart to the screens, searching for signs of Dimitri or Aleksandr.

“We were worried about you,” Talia says, her voice low as she moves to check something on a control panel. My sister has adapted well to life as the wife of the Avilovpakhan. Her usually flowing, chocolate-brown hair is pulled back in a practical bun, and her posture is alert and ready for action. “Angelina is in the crib if you want to check on her.”

I glance toward a corner where a portable crib has been set up. My niece is standing, clutching the rails, her face scrunched in confusion rather than fear. She bounces excitedly when she spots me, her chubby arms stretching upward, eager to be held.

“Sasha and Maxim, why don't you show me what toys you have in here?” I suggest trying to distract them while I move to scoop up the baby. Angelina nuzzles into my neck, and I breathe in her sweet baby scent, letting it calm my racing heart. “That's right, everything's okay, princess,” I whisper, swaying gently.

“Bad men are here, aren't they?” Sasha asks, her five-year-old face far too serious for her age. She stands near her brother, his arm draped protectively over her shoulders, just as I've seen Aleksandr do countless times.

“Your father and uncle are handling it,” Talia answers before I can, her voice calm but firm. “That's their job. Our job is to stay safe and keep calm.” She gives Sasha a pointed look, and the girl nods gravely, understanding her role.

I settle on the sofa, arranging Angelina on my lap while Sasha and Maxim huddle close. My eyes keep darting to the monitors, scanning for any sign of what is happening outside. Men in tactical gear are moving through the gardens. Gunshots flash on several screens.

“Is it Morozov?” I ask Talia quietly when I’m sure the children are distracted by video games.

Talia's lips thin into a tight line. “Most likely. We've had intelligence that he was planning something. Aleksandr hoped we'd have more time to prepare.”

My hand instinctively goes to my stomach. How can I bring another child into this violent world? How can I tell Dimitri that this baby is his?

“Everything will be okay,” Talia assures. She reaches over to squeeze my hand. “Our family has survived worse.”

I nod numbly, turning my attention to the children. They need me calm and reassured, not drowning in my own fears.

“Who wants to hear a story?” I ask, forcing brightness into my voice. “I know one about a brave princess who saves her kingdom from dragons.”

“Dragons aren't real,” Maxim points out skeptically.

“Well, this is a special story,” I insist. “And in this story, they are very real.”

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