Page 168 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

Flashes of what my life will look like flood my mind unbidden. Caring for Elise and an infant when I can barely take care of myself. Scrapping for every dollar, every bite of food.

But I just barely managed to stave off a panic attack. I can’t invite another one in now. I shove the thoughts away as best I can, compartmentalizing them for later when I’m alone.

“Whatever weird sense of responsibility you seem to be feeling, you’re free,” I tell him. “I absolve you. Go back and forget about us. I’ll be—”

Suddenly, Nikolai is surrounding me. His arms around me, his face right up in mine.

And I know instinctively—a sick but undeniable truth—that if he kissed me now, I’d give in. If he wanted to fill the ache I’ve had for the last six weeks, I’d let him.

I wish that wasn’t true. But some things can’t be reasoned with.

“Don’t you dare say you’re fucking fine again, Belle,” he snarls protectively. “Don’t you dare.”

“Let me go,” I protest weakly.

“Again and again, you refuse to act in your own best interest,” he sighs. “I can’t trust you to do what’s right. So if you won’t, then I will. Regardless of what you think.”

I frown. “What does that—”

Before I can even get the question out, my front door opens. A dour, middle-aged man with a mustache comes into the room. He is wearing all black and carrying a syringe in his hands.

“Nikolai,” I manage before my throat starts to constrict with panic.

“I told you I’d take care of you, Belle. Right now, this is what that looks like.”

The man walks into the kitchen. I try to jerk away, but Nikolai’s hold on me is too strong. I don’t stand a chance.

The man lifts the syringe. I open my mouth to scream, but Nikolai captures my lips with his.

His kiss is firm but gentle, and for a few blissful seconds, I sink into the familiarity of his body against mine. I’ve missed it. I’ve needed it.

Then I feel the prick in my arm.

“Why?” I mumble into his open mouth. But my eyes are already dropping closed.

I feel a huge, warm hand at the back of my neck.

I feel the drop of blood leaking out onto the crook of my elbow.

And then I feel nothing.

41

BELLE

I’m freezing cold.

Shivers move up and down my limbs, a tingling that seems to radiate out from my bones. But I can’t move. When I was a little girl, I used to get sleep paralysis like this. I’d wake up without waking up, and I always knew when it was happening because I was so damn cold.

So I’m just sleeping, that’s all. That’s fine. It would make sense of the crazy dream I had. Of Roger showing up at Tony’s, followed by Nikolai. Of Nikolai driving me home, the syringe, a baby.

It was all a dream.

Actually, on second thought: me, pregnant with Nikolai’s baby?

Scratch that, it was all a nightmare.

Just like when I was little, I start to wake up bit by bit. The paralysis fades away. Sound comes back first—air rushing past, distant horns, the crackle of an air conditioner.

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