Page 157 of Ivory Ashes

“Shhh. Don’t be sorry.” I slip my hands under his arms and scoop him up the way I used to when he was a toddler.

He learned to stand on a toy box to open his door. Then he would pat my mattress and call for me, too small to see over the side of my bed. That was back when I could carry him anywhere I wanted without a second thought. Before he grew too big to fit comfortably in my lap.

I curl my arms around his sleep-warm body and hold him to my chest. “I’m glad you’re here, baby. I missed you.”

He nuzzles his face into my neck. “I don’t want to go away, Mama.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” I whisper. “You’re safe here with me.”

I still have the duffel bag under my bed. I can get him out of here. Not now, though. With all the guards around the premises and eyes on me, I’ll need help.

I hope Pyotr’s offer is still good.

Dante sits up. He’s frowning and he looks so much like Mikhail. It still hurts, but not the way it used to. Now, it’s the ache of a missing limb. The pain of losing something vital you can never get back.

I squeeze Dante’s hand. I won’t lose him, too.

“What is it, bud? What’s wrong?”

“Call Mikhail,” he whimpers. “Tell him I don’t want to go.”

“We can talk to him later. Maybe in the morning.”

I tried talking. It didn’t do any good.

“He isn’t in his room,” he says. “I went there first. I was going to ask him to promise to let me stay, but he’s gone.”

I don’t want to think about what it means that Mikhail isn’t in bed in the middle of the night. Is he too worked up to sleep? Or is he too busy planning my punishment?

“He’ll be back,” I assure him. “And when he comes back, we’ll talk to him. I’m sure we can convince him to let you stay.”

Mikhail’s voice is still echoing off the walls of my skull. Dante is my responsibility now and I’m going to send him away. I’m going to keep him safe, from my enemies… and from you.

He didn’t leave any room for doubt about what he wants to do. I don’t think I’ll be able to convince him to do anything, but maybe Dante can.

“Just call him,” Dante begs, shaking my arm. “He has to listen to you.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you make the rules,” he says.

The innocence shining through his absolute certainty that I am the ultimate power in this house brings tears to my eyes. I hug him close.

“Please call him. Just try. Please.”

I know it won’t do any good, but I reach for my phone on the bedside table. “I’ll call, but I don’t think he’ll answer.”

Actually, I know he won’t.

If I thought there was any chance Mikhail would answer, I wouldn’t even try. Dante does not need to be present for whatever hellscape that conversation would turn into. My son looks at me, hopeful, as the phone rings and rings.

I give him a tight smile, doing my best to look upbeat. Hopeful, just like him. Part of me is still hopeful. There’s still Pyotr and his offer. It’s the only bright spot in this long tunnel of darkness. There’s still a chance we get out of here.

After thirty seconds, the ringing stops and the call goes to voicemail.

“Sorry, D.” I toss my phone onto the mattress next to me. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow, okay?

He sags. “What if tomorrow is too late?”

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