Page 64 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva
“And then?” I suck in the air, imagining these horrible things happening to Nikandr.
“And then Nikandr hit rock bottom, as Agafon needed him to. He cleaned himself up and came back home. But those years he was away, it haunted all of us.”
I remember the way Nikandr had gone out of his way to make me feel welcome. He never once showed resentment for who my brothers were. In my heart, I feel happy for Nikandr. Happy he made it out of that mess.
“He’s lucky to have you all,” I say quietly. “To have a family that fought for him.”
“We fight for our own,” Ilariy says, reaching out to touch my hand. “Always.”
The words hang between us. Am I one of his own now? Why do I wish to be?
“I’ve missed you,” he says, breaking the silence. “These past three days, the house felt empty without you.”
“I was angry,” I confess. “And hurt. But I missed you, too.”
He laces his fingers through mine. “Will you stay tonight? Just to sleep,” he adds quickly. “I just... I don’t want to be alone.”
The vulnerability in his voice undoes me. After everything he’s been through today, he’s still reaching out, still asking instead of demanding.
“Yes,” I say, squeezing his hand. “I’ll stay.”
Chapter 19 - Ilariy
I wake up to the sound of whispering outside. I smile through still closed eyes. It’s Arina again, telling off one of the maids.
“I said he likes orange juice, not watermelon! Please take this tray back. Wait, you know what? I’ll do it myself. You forgot to bring the yogurt.”
She’s trying to be quiet, but her annoyed whisper can be heard through the door.
I snuggle deeper into the bed. Over the past week, Arina has made my room as comfortable as she possibly can. She got hold of these pillows that feel like clouds, ensured there are scented candles to keep the room smelling fresh, got me something called a humidifier, and other things I never knew existed.
I take a deep breath, just to smell Arina’s perfume. Most nights, at my request, she sleeps next to me. I tell her I’m bored out of my wits while I heal and have no company or work, so she doesn’t argue, even though I know she thinks she might be a distraction.
But, she’s not. She’s the only thing keeping me sane. We don’t do much at night. Usually, just hold hands and talk. But I find myself looking forward to our little ritual.
Fully awake now, I sit up in bed and stretch without wincing, and it feels like a victory. A grin spreads across my face.
At last, I don’t hurt. I shift around a little, testing my joints. My ribs don’t hurt this morning. I pull up my T-shirt and notice the bruises there have faded to almost non-existent.
I feel a warmth in my chest, and it’s not from the relief I feel over the fact that I’m mostly healed; rather, it comes from the knowledge that I healedbecause of her. After everything I’ve done, all the mean words she overheard, she still came back. Shestillstayed.
Just then, the door opens without a warning knock, and I know it’s Arina, thinking she’ll wake me. I smile at the sight of her, and her eyes widen when she sees me sitting up and grinning.
“You’re awake!” she squeals. “And you’re sitting up! How are you feeling?”
“Like I could run a marathon,” I fire back.
“Sure, you could.” She rolls her eyes, though I can see the relief on her face.
She walks over with my breakfast tray in her hands, and for the dozenth time this week, I worry about her. Since I got hurt, she’s been taking such good care of me that I wonder if she’s forgotten that she needs care too.
She sets the tray across my lap. “The doctor said you need protein, so eat up.”
I reach for her hand instead, my fingers curling around her wrist. “Thank you.”
“It’s just breakfast,” she says, but her cheeks flush.
“Not for that.” I shake my head. My thumb brushes the soft skin of her inner wrist. “For everything, Arina. These last few days, I couldn’t have managed without you.”
