Page 191 of Emerald Malice

I expect more words of comfort from Yelena. I expect more assurances that everything will work out for the best, that Andrey will magically sort everything out and there will be a happily ever after at the end of this story.

But Yelena says no such thing.

She does the opposite, actually. She bites down on her bottom lip as though she’s trying to stop herself from saying something damaging.

Then she sighs. “I don’t want to lie to you, child.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“This life—the Bratva life—it’s a hard one. Especially when you have a family.” She looks out towards the trees and I imagine she’s picturing her own family. The husband she lost to someone else’s war.

I don’t know what to say, so I take her hand and squeeze it. “I’m sorry, Yelena.”

She shrugs. “It was the life he chose. And this is the life I chose. I have no regrets.”

“Andrey thinks he can protect us,” I whisper, placing a hand on my stomach.

“All men think that,” Yelena scoffs. “But it’s just a lie they tell themselves. Andrey is no more capable of protecting you than he was of protecting my husband.”

The sudden lash of bitterness in her voice takes me back. Not once, in all the time I’ve known her, has she betrayed the slightest bit of resentment towards Andrey. But I can see it now, lying just beneath the surface of her maternal kindliness.

Festering. Like a rotten wound.

“I ask myself sometimes why I stayed here, after everything that happened. You might’ve wondered the same thing, yes?” I don’t answer, but she carries on. “I suppose I thought I could keep the memory of my husband close if I stayed a part of the world he died for.”

The silence thuds and pulses. It stretches forever and collapses into the blink of an eye. I feel the words in my mouth before I’ve even decided to say them.

“Yelena…?”

She stares back, unblinking. As though she already knows what I’m about to ask her.

“Do you think it would be better… if I left?”

More silence.

Then: “I think you have to.”

My heart is thumping traitorously in my chest. If she will help me, then Mila and Katya can stay out of it. No one will ever suspect Yelena. Quiet, diligent, loyal Yelena.

No one will get hurt.

No one will be blamed.

And my children will get the clean start they deserve.

She stands with a pained grunt. “Wait here.”

Without another word, she drops my hand and hobbles along the cobbled pathway back to the stairs. I watch her go until she disappears inside the house.

Then, once she’s gone, I abandon the deck chair and rush into the pool house. I find a notebook and a pencil in the drawer of the writing desk.

And I start writing.

To my family,

That’s as far as I get before the tears cloud my vision and everything dissolves into a fuzzy haze. Biting down on my tongue, I wipe my eyes dry and try to focus.

This is important.

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