Page 179 of Ivory Ashes

I’m being chased by a powerful man who is going to be even hungrier for revenge now than he was before Mikhail stopped his plan in its tracks. I don’t know that I’ll be able to protect myself from Iakov, let alone Dante, as well.

He’s safer with Mikhail. As much as I wish it wasn’t true, it is.

It’s also the only reason I can drive away from Dante without falling apart.

Though, ten minutes away from the mansion, I do in fact fall apart.

I manage to pull the car along a curb through a haze of tears. Then I press my forehead to the steering wheel and cry and cry. I weep until there’s nothing left. Until all I can do is sit back in the seat gasping for breath.

This car may have belonged to Pyotr, but the citrus and cedar smell of Mikhail is practically woven into the upholstery. Each breath is like burying my face in his neck. It’s like being back in his house, back in his arms.

I need to get away from it. I throw the door open and stumble into the grass. By the time I drop to my knees, I’m already heaving.

There wasn’t much in the way of food in Iakov’s bunker, but my body tries desperately to empty itself anyway. I want to blame my nausea on the stress and the grief.

I pray it’s because of the stress and the grief.

Deep inside, though, I know better.

When I’m finally done, I flop back on the grass and stare up at the black night. The sky is overcast and gray. The city lights paint everything a dingy orange. I lie there until the early morning dew soaks through my shirt and my body is grumbling at me to either eat something or throw up some more. Or both.

I climb back into the car and drive until I see the glow of a twenty-four-hour pharmacy. The girl behind the counter is young and she doesn’t look up from her phone as I raid the shelves for supplies.

She checks me out without hesitating over anything I place on the belt. I’m sure she’s seen it all. Especially at two in the morning.

Then I make my way to a motel.

Running is oddly familiar to me. Dante and I lived in the same apartment for years, but the mindset of being on the run never quite left my system. It’s only in the last few weeks that I let myself consider the possibility that we would settle down somewhere. Naively, I thought Mikhail’s mansion could become home.

I may not want you to die, but that doesn’t mean I want you.

I block out the echo of Mikhail’s words. I can’t dwell on them now. Not when my survival depends on me staying sharp and being ready for anything. Curling into the fetal position and nursing a broken heart isn’t an option right now.

I look around at the faded couch against the water-damaged wall, at the threadbare comforter tossed over a bed too many people have slept in.

Then, finally, I force my gaze down to the pregnancy test sitting on the rickety table.

I expected the two pink lines, but still, nothing could have prepared me for how quickly they appeared or how vibrant they are.

I’m not just pregnant. I’m really pregnant.

Forget Plan B. Forget Plans C, D, and E, also. I’m deep in the alphabet, scrambling for what in the actual fuck I’m going to do now.

I’ve been here in this exact position before, but this time is different. This time, Mikhail has Dante and Iakov is out for blood. The odds aren’t just stacked against me; I’m being slowly crushed underneath them.

In a sign of just how desperate I am, I grab my phone out of my bag and dial a number I haven’t used in years.

My father answers on the second ring. “It was only ever a matter of time before you came crawling back on your knees.”

I close my eyes, fighting through a wave of nausea that might have nothing at all to do with being pregnant. “Aren’t you going to ask where I’ve been?”

“You don’t think I already know?” he snorts. “You’ve started a war, girl. Then again, if you’re calling me, I’m guessing that means Mikhail has done the smart thing and ended it before it could begin.”

Now. I’m in a war with the Greeks and the truth is… you’re not worth it.

I hate that my father is right.

I hate even more that I can’t afford to hang up on him.

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