Page 166 of Emerald Malice

She nods, her eyes floating to the door. “The men that attacked me asked a lot of questions about you. And the baby.”

My legs are shaking, so I cling to the railing of the bed to keep from toppling over. “Who were they? Why did they do this?”

“They were waiting in the house for me,” she explains, wincing on every other word, but talking through the pain anyway.

“Did they say who sent them?”

She shakes her head.

“Was there a man named Slavik there?”

She frowns, her shoulders rising and falling in a weak shrug. “They didn’t introduce themselves properly, I’m afraid.”

Why would they? She didn’t need to know their names if they planned to kill her.

The rope burn around her neck makes my own throat feel tight. “You’re safe now,” I assure her. “I promise. No one will hurt you anymore.”

Her fingers tighten around my hand. “Sweetheart, do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

No. The answer is a firm, resounding no.

But how can I possibly say that to her? How can I possibly give her more worry and pain on top of what she’s already carrying? All because of me…

“Andrey will keep us safe, Aunt Annie.”

She doesn’t look convinced or relieved. She’s still looking at me as though I’m the one in the hospital bed. As though I’m the one who was almost strangled to death.

We’re interrupted when a nurse walks in with a new dose of painkillers. I back away and let her administer the drugs.

Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. I’m no longer in my body. No longer connected to it.

I recognize the sense of panic that precedes one of my episodes. It’s kicking in already. It will take only the smallest trigger to send me careening back into numbness and catatonia.

Not now. Aunt Annie needs you.

Misha needs you.

Katya needs you.

I wipe away my tears hastily and fumble around in my pocket for my phone. Andrey should be here. Where is he?

But according to my lockscreen, I’ve got no new messages or calls.

Moving makes it easier to stave off the shock and anxiety. I pace as I call Andrey, desperate to hear his deep, calm voice.

“Natalia.”

Oh, thank God.

“They tried to strangle her. She could have died! Where are you?”

“My father is back.” His voice is neither gentle nor reassuring. He’s speaking to me like I’m one of the men he commands. “I have to contain the situation before it gets out of hand.”

“Before it gets out of hand?” I cry. “He tried to kill my aunt! I’d say it’s already out of hand, Andrey!”

He refuses to reveal even a hint of what he’s thinking when he asks, “How is she?”

“Hurt and terrified!” I screech, earning me a reproachful look from the woman behind the nurse’s station.

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