Page 214 of Shifting Hearts 1
Still, it gnawed at me how cold Jace had become toward his own daughter. That wasn’t the man I remembered, and definitely not the man I loved. He used to be kind, soft around the edges. Definitely dreamy and just perfect.
Then the day arrived, December twenty-second. The flight stretched eleven hours and thirty minutes. I could have halved the time by crossing the ocean on my own, but Em refused to travel that way herself, and without a doubt didn’t want me do it either.
I still didn’t want to go, but I couldn’t let her down.
What scared me second, was meeting her mother, Mel.
One, because she would remind me of Leigh, and how I failed her and Alex the time they needed me the most. And two…
She was the woman who had shared a life with the love of mine. The man my soul never stopped reaching for. The man I would burn through lifetimes to be with.
Breathing felt impossible, and it was a feature my life didn’t even required.
The next few hours were a blur. Panic pressed at the edges of my mind like a storm waiting to break. I didn’t even know vampires could panic.
I wasn’t ready to face him, but it was already too late to turn back. Moscow was unfamiliar, every street a stranger, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Blaze’s terrible deeds had reached this far.
We embarked the plane and now stood by the luggage carousel, waiting for Em’s bag.
I clutched the strap of my bag a little too tightly.
“Em, I don’t think?—”
“No, no, no,” she interrupted, turning to face me. “You’re here. You’re not spending the holidays alone. C’mon.”
“Does your father even know you’re bringing vampires home?”
“Yes. I told my mom, and she’s super excited to meet both of you.”
“Great.”
“Stop worrying about my dad. If he turns into a jerk, we leave. Simple.” Her nose did that scrunched-up thing that makes her look just like Jace. A part of me hated how much she looked like him.
“I promise,” she added.
I sighed, and nodded.
Paul gave me a look, the kind that saidyou’re in deep now.
“Oh, fuck off,” I muttered.
A chuckle slipped through his lips. Paul knew the truth, that I had a past with them, Jesse too. Me remembering everything, while they had no idea who I really was. Explaining it wasn’t exactly easy, so I told them a witch had bewitched them all, tore me from their minds.
Thankfully, none of them told Em.
An Uber waited, and we slipped into the back seat. Em spoke Russian with easy fluency. I closed my eyes, wishing I could do the same. It was still Russian, and every time the reminder of what I’d lost surfaced, my dead heart clenched tight.
The Uber’s heater blasted warm air against my face, a warmth I didn’t need, but still felt nice. The windows fogged as the driver threaded us through Moscow’s traffic. Outside, the city pressed close, towering gray apartment blocks, neon signs flickering in Cyrillic, pedestrians bundled in heavy coats. Car horns punctured the air, sharp and impatient, while the rhythmic wipers dragged streaks across the glass.
I had only known this place through Jason’s stories. Now, standing here, I finally understood what he meant. Moscow was a frozen majesty. It was something you couldn’t grasp until you were here, breathing it in for yourself.
I leaned my forehead against the window, watching the city blur past. Golden domes flashed between high-rises, stubborn remnants of history wedged into a skyline of glass and steel. The streets buzzed with energy, alive and restless, and yet I felt strangely apart from it all, cocooned in the back seat.
The further we drove, the thinner the chaos became. Stores gave way to quiet stretches of road, the traffic loosening its grip. The driver barely spoke, just hummed along to a low radio station as the buildings fell behind us.
Soon the city lights faded, replaced by the dark outline of trees. Pines stood in crowded ranks on either side of the road, their branches drooping under winter’s weight. The hum of Moscow was gone now, muffled into silence, and the only sound was the steady roll of tires over half-frozen asphalt.
It felt as if the forest was swallowing us whole.
