Page 89 of The Lazarov Bratva

My fingers start to prune, and I run my rough fingertips over my thigh, then finally, I turn the shower off and step out. Wrapping myself in a thick, fluffy towel, I slide a silk cover over my hair after twisting the strands to remove excess water, then head back into the bedroom. I’ll never tire of these heated floors that keep the carpet extra cozy.

Glancing at the clock, my heart jumps slightly. It’s nearly time for bed, which means another night of cuddling into the strong, warm security of Kristof’s arms. It’s the only thing that takes the edge off of how limited sex has been. He really meant it when he told me to rest and recover.

A girl can’t complain if I get nightly cuddles in exchange.

Suddenly, the door flies open, and I squeal in fright as Kristof strides inside with a black suitcase in one hand.

“Holy shit, Kristof, you scared me!”

I don’t notice the clothes in his other hand until he thrusts them into my chest and I have to catch them before they fall.

“Get dressed,” Kristof barks, and he heads for my nightstand. He starts gathering all my books and tossing them into the suitcase he dumps on the ground, and my heart leaps into my throat.

“Get dressed? Kristof what do you mean? What’s going on?”

“I said get dressed!” He snaps over his shoulder, and I flinch. All thoughts of warm cuddling melt from my mind as his tone reminds me of the way he spoke to me all those weeks ago when I was still in the basement.

“Not until you tell me why!” Anger lilts my own voice, and I clutch the clothes tightly to my chest, alarm pulsing through me in trickling waves of heat.

“We’re leaving.”

“Leaving? Leaving where? Why?” My first thought is a new house. Kristof has many properties, I know that much. All the top lieutenants do, but from the frantic way he’s piling my books into that case, it doesn’t really feel like we’re simply moving house. He drags the case with him, not answering me as he pulls what limited clothes there are from the closet.

“Kristof!” I yell, my heart pounding. Something’s wrong, it has to be.

“We’re going to Russia, so hurry the fuck up and get dressed!”

Russia?

No…

No!

I freeze, rooting to the spot as the revelation crashes over me like a frozen tidal wave, chasing away every ounce of calm the shower just gave me.

Russia?

No way.

I’ve never been out of the state, never mind out of the country. This can’t be right. I can’t just leave. This is my… home.

There’s been something incredibly strange and exhilarating about being here with Kristof, living out my fantasy of being with someone who wants me completely, who goes to the edge of their sanity just to be with me, and Kristof has unlocked things in me I had no idea existed.

But it’s been a dream with a safety net, I realize.

The safety net being my neglectful family always nearby, somewhere down in the city. Suddenly, my bubble bursts and reality hits me harder than a slap in the face.

If Kristof takes me out of the country, it really will be just me and him. No family, no one to go back to. Deep down in my soul, I think part of me always expected to go back to my family at some point with Kristof by my side, that this was only forever in a dream and not forever in real life.

My golden world melts away into a cold, stark reality.

If I get on a plane with Kristof, there really is no going back. I’ll be severing ties with everything I have ever known, and that in itself is terrifying. Even though I know in my heart that Kristof will keep me safe and that I want to be with him, leaving is a big step. A huge one.

“Ivan and Nastja are coming too,” Kristof states, zipping the suitcase closed and dumping it near the door. “Alena, what are you doing? Did you not hear me?”

“I–I can’t.” I stumble over my words and lift my wide gaze to his. “I can’t leave, I’ve never been… I don’t understand, this is so sudden. Why? My family is here. The Family is here, I?—”

“They don’t care about you,” Kristof snaps. “I do. And I am doing what’s best. Get dressed, Alena. We’re leaving.”

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