Page 96 of Bratva Butcher

“Why? It’s in the past. What good could possibly come from talking about it now?” he asked, voice devoid of emotion.

“Talk to me,”I begged.

His eyes shot to me. Drawing in a shaky breath, he said, with pain dripping from every word, “I remember everything from before I left the hospital. I remember how beautiful my son was. How h-heavy he felt in my arms.” Tears welled in his eyes as he looked down at his hands like he could picture that little baby right there, in that moment. “How broken and completely devastated Tatiana was. I remember how impossible it all seemed, to love someone so strongly, so fiercely, and have them ripped away from you, not being able to do a thing to stop it. I remember the hurt in Tatiana’s voice. The betrayal in her eyes because I wasn’t there for her. The guilt. The shame… Why are you making me relive this?” he asked, pained.

“And what do you remember after?” I pushed, ignoring his question.

“After?”

“After the hospital.”

He frowned. “Not much. Everything is kind of hazy after that.”

I nodded.

I’d suspected as much.

Taking a deep breath, I began. “I was around the corner from the house when Aleksandr called me,” I said, getting lost in the memory, allowing it to take me over. “I’ve never heard him soscared. He was absolutely terrified. He told me I needed to get home as quickly as I could. That there was something wrong with you, and he didn’t know what to do.Thatin itself had made me so scared, I ended up driving my car straight through the gates instead of waiting for the guards to open them. Your brotheralwaysknows what to do. For him to say that… It meant something had to be very,verywrong. When I pulled up, you were lying in his arms, completely catatonic. You didn’t move, didn’t speak, no matter how much we tried to get you to. You just lay there, staring off into space. When I asked Aleksandr what happened, he told me he found you in your car, just sitting there with the engine running. Aleksandr dragged you out, and then you just snapped, screaming and clawing at your chest like you were trying to get something out. Then you just…dropped.”

Nikolai listened, the slight crease in his brows telling me he had no recollection of that.

“I called every single doctor on our payroll, and they all said the same thing.Physically, you were fine. That whatever you were dealing with was emotional. Of the mind. I used your tracker to retrace your last steps and found out where you’d been. You’d just come from Saint Royal Hospital. So, I called them. After bribing some nurses and threatening some others, I found out what happened. Found out Tatiana had been admitted for a stillbirth delivery.”

Nikolai’s frown deepened. He looked at me, hurt blazing in his eyes. “Are you… Are you telling me you knew this whole time?” he asked, incredulous. “You knewthis whole time, and never said anything?!”

Guilt slammed into me at the betrayal on his face. “Nikolai, I—”

He jumped to his feet, anger literally pulsing from him. “Why?”he growled. “Why didn’t you say anything?! I neededyou! I needed someone! Anyone! Why weren’t you there for me if you knew what happened?!”

Panic began to smother me. “Nikolai. Let me explain. I knew what you were going through and—”

“You couldn’t possibly know,” Nikolai spat. “You couldn’t know the hurt, the loss I was feeling—”

“Yes, I—”

“No, you couldn’t!” he yelled, cutting me off again. “You have no idea—”

“Yes. I. Do!” I screamed, leaping up to stand toe-to-toe with him. I dropped my guard, the façade I kept in place all the time, and allowed him to see the pain I shared with him. The pain only someone who’d lost a child could know.

His chest rose and fell with deep, heavy breaths as his eyes ran over my face, studying me. He gasped softly. “Mother?”

I collapsed back into my seat, mentally exhausted. But I knew I had to keep going. “She wasn’t as far along as Tatiana was. Only twenty-one weeks. But…yes.” I stared off into space, every detail from back then bombarding my senses. “It was a few years after you were born. Everything was going great. We found out it was a girl.” I smiled as the memory played before my eyes, the happiness and excitement Yekaterina had at finally getting the little girl she’d always dreamed of having. “Then, your mother had a terrible fall. She lost her footing and fell down the stairs. We rushed to the hospital, but—” I sucked in a breath, unable to even finish the sentence, the pain was so great.

Nikolai lowered himself slowly back into his seat, listening quietly.

Clearing my throat, I continued, but it took everything I had to keep my voice from shaking. “Your mother was devastated after it. She blamed herself, no matter how many times I told her that it wasn’t her fault. It was an accident. No one was to blame. Shewas so traumatized by it, she decided that she didn’t want to have any more children.”

“Is-is that why there’s such a big age gap between Lukyan and I?”

I nodded. “If she didn’t want to have any more children, that was fine with me. I had two beautiful sons. I was happy. Then, when you were about ten years old, Aleksandr twelve, she fell pregnant with Lukyan. Everything obviously worked out okay, and he was born happy and healthy, so she decided she wanted to try one more time for another girl.”

“And got Illayana,” Nikolai finished.

“Yes,” I said smiling. “When I found out what happened with your son, I made the mistake of assuming you’d want to deal with it and grieve the same way I did: alone. I never spoke about it to anyone. Not even your mother, unless she brought it up. The pain was crippling, and I preferred not to think about it at all. Hurt less that way. I foolishly thought that if you wanted to discuss it, you would have come to me. So, I waited. I waited for you to broach the subject. To confide in me. But you never did. Then, so much time passed, I wasn’t sure how to approach it. I…” I looked down at my hands, ashamed of myself. “I let you down. I failed you. And for that, I am so sorry, my son.”

Nikolai remained quiet for a moment. It was a lot of information to process, so I gave him the time he needed, not saying a word until he was ready. “I…understand your thought behind it. I do. But you had to know I was hurting. Did you just not care?”

“What? Of course I cared, Nikolai,” I said sincerely, but the look on his face told me he didn’t entirely believe me.

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