Page 150 of Emerald Malice

“She stopped working when she got pregnant with me, though,” Natalia continues. “She said that was always her dream job.”

“She wanted to be a mother?”

She tries to return my smile, but her chin quivers. “She didn’t get to finish that job, though.”

“Arina was a good mother, too,” I say quietly, losing myself to nearly forgotten memories. “But like yours, she didn’t get to enjoy it as long as she should have.”

Natalia’s eyes are flecked with diamonds—a combination of the lights above and her own unshed tears. “What happened to her? If you don’t mind me asking, I mean.”

My instinct has always been to deflect. My mother is a soft, vulnerable underbelly I don’t let anyone see.

But I don’t feel that with Natalia.

I want to know her, and I want her to know me. And I have no idea why.

“She married a cruel man.”

“Your father, you mean.”

I nod. “Sometimes I think it might have been kinder if he’d just killed her,” I admit—something I’ve never spoken aloud before. “Instead, he wore her down. He twisted and deformed everything good about her until it was unrecognizable. Until she didn’t even know herself. She’s buried so deep in her own mind now that no one can pull her out.”

“Why? Why would he do it?”

“Because we loved her,” I explain. “Because Viktor and I loved her more than we would ever respect him.”

Every smile that we aimed at her, every bubble of laughter that she pulled from us—Slavik took as a personal affront. The very sound seemed to offend him.

Natalia’s eyes are fixed on me. Her knuckles are white as she squeezes my hand. “He probably knew that, one day, you and Viktor would stand between him and Arina. That you wouldn’t let him hurt her anymore.”

“Well, we both failed in that regard,” I growl bitterly.

Natalia’s grip on my hand just gets tighter. “You were a child.”

“I grew up, Natalia. And I played right into his hands. His plan worked. He was successful in driving a wedge between us.”

Her eyes shine with tears, and I hate that I made her cry. This night isn’t about me. It was meant to be for her.

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have?—”

“No!” she snaps. “No, I’m glad you shared that with me. It… it helps me understand you better.”

“I’m not sure I’m worth understanding.”

“Of course you are,” she says gently. “Everyone is worth understanding, Andrey. Most people are redeemable.”

“That’s a little too optimistic for a mudak like me, little bird.”

“You’re no mudak, whatever that means,” she insists, her pronunciation surprisingly on point. “You wanna know why?”

“Tell me.”

“Because you didn’t hurt Misha, even though it would have been easier to get rid of him. You tried to find his family even though you knew it was a pointless search. You protected Leonty from Viktor and you gave Mila the freedom she’s craved her entire life. You take care of your men and you stop monsters from hunting innocent women and hurting innocent children.”

I stay silent, my breath held captive in my throat as she continues.

“I know you think I’m naïve and maybe, sometimes, I am.” She squares her jaw as though she’s waiting for me to agree with her. When I don’t, she forges ahead. “But I’m not nearly as naïve as you think I am. I know you’re not the hero in this story, Andrey Kuznetsov. But I don’t think you’re the villain, either. No matter how hard you try to be.”

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