Page 69 of Unbroken

“My sister was an excellent mother,” I snap, my voice cold steel.

The woman spins around, eyes raking me down without even a pretense of subtlety. She’s assessing me—my messy hair, my crumpled clothes, the way I don’t match the polished facade she and Vadka both wear.

I smile sweetly. “I’m Ruthie.” I extend my hand. She doesn’t take it.

“Heard about you,” she mutters.

My eyebrows lift. “Oh, did you? Did Luka tell you about me?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

Charming.

“I’ve got a few things to do around the house today,” I say lightly, “but I’ll be in and out, running errands. Let me know if you need anything.”

I move to the fridge and start taking stock of what we’ve got. Groceries, chores, the usual. But underneath all that, there’s a spark. A slow-burning fire that I know is only just getting started.

I don’t want to leave my nephew here—not with this battle-axe of a nannyI’mapparently responsible for hiring.

“You working tonight?” Vadka asks, his voice low and quiet, the kind of tone he only uses when something’s gnawing at him. His lips are pressed into a flat, unreadable line, and there’s a furrow between his brows that tells me he’s deep in thought—probably spiraling with all the ways things can go wrong.

I know that look too well, even as I write out a simple grocery list. I write down just the basics—things to cook and grill.

Something to feel normal again.

“Yeah,” I tell him, not looking up. “I have to work, Vadka. I’m almost out of sick time.”

His jaw tightens like he wants to argue, but we both glance at the nanny, who’s watching us with that cold, flat look I hate. The kind of look that makes you feel like a problem she’s been paid to tolerate.

Luka’s little lower lip sticks out.

Oh no.

“Don’t go, Papa,” Luka pleads, his tiny arms wrapping tightly around Vadka’s legs like he can physically anchor him to the ground. My heart aches. I hated this when Mariah was still alive—how Luka would sob and beg her not to leave, how she’d cry after closing the door. It hasn’t changed. It’s still gutting, and I know it’s just part of having a small child.

Still, no one said I have to like it.

I don’t miss the shadow that crosses Vadka’s face, the way he holds his little boy as if he doesn’t ever want to let him go. I guess parting from each other holds a different kind of weight these days.

“I’ll be back soon, buddy.” Vadka kneels and kisses Luka’s forehead, but his voice falters. He doesn’t want to go either.

We finally peel Luka off, and of course, Vadka does the rounds—checks in with the security team, glances at the surveillance feeds, and reads the angles like a general prepping for siege. He finally exhales, long and hard, shaking his head.

We both have jobs to do. We can’t just sit here like targets.

And I can’t take him with me. Not to the bar. It’s not a place for a child. Today’s the worst of the week—the only day weopen early for “specials”—cheap drinks and sketchy characters. I’ll take a half-empty bar of regulars any day.

Shit.

“It’s gonna be all right,” Vadka murmurs, placing his hand on the small of my back. His touch is grounding and electric at the same time. It feels like it belongs there, even as my skin prickles like I’m on fire. The memory of last night burns in the corners of my mind and refuses to leave me. I keep reliving it—again and again and again—wanting to freeze it, to hold onto every inch of that memory.

For so long, I’ve been stumbling through darkness. Alone. The future seemed murky and scary, but now… now it’s like I can actually see into a future that brings me hope.

Maybe…maybe…with a man I actually care about.

And I don’t know how to feel about that.

Correction—Sigh.Ido. I know exactly how I feel, and I’m absolutely fucking riddled with guilt.

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