Page 156 of Beautiful Cruelty

She sighs. "He could've at least bought me dinner first."

"I'll be sure to let him know."

"Oh," Megan says. "Before I forget."

She gets up, walks to the corner of the room, and picks up her purse. Reaching into it, she pulls out Lacey's engagement ring.

"I believe this belongs to my sister."

"Thank you." I rise from my chair and accept it from her. My fist close around it gently, and I extend my un-bandaged hand to her. "Good night, Ms. Huang."

"Good night, Mr. Stravinsky." She takes my hand in a firm shake. "And I mean it about what I said. About what I'd do if you hurt my sister."

I nod and, without another word, step back out into the rain, eager to return to Pankration.

To Lacey.

The rain peltsagainst my windshield as I pull up to Pankration's gates. Through the downpour, I spot a figure standing there—a woman, her blonde hair darkened by the rain.

It takes me a moment to recognize her, but my heart stops when I do.

Mom.

I kill the engine and step out into the storm. Water immediately soaks through my suit, but I barely notice. My feet carry me forward of their own accord.

"Mom?" My voice comes out softer than I intend "What are you doing here?"

Polina turns at my voice. But when she sees me, she flinches, taking a half-step back. Fear creeps into her storm-gray eyes, and her lips start trembling.

Even after all these years, she still can't bear to be near me.

She still can't escape the deep wounds Pyotr left on her mind.

"It's me," I say gently. "Not him."

She shakes, whether from cold or fear I can't tell. Her eyes remain fixed on me as she blinks fiercely.

"Mom," I whisper. "Please."

Slowly, so slowly, she raises her gaze to meet mine. Recognition floods her face as she truly sees me for the first time tonight. The mask of terror cracks and crumbles.

“Vadim…” Her voice breaks.

She stumbles forward and I catch her as she collapses against my chest, her thin frame wracked with sobs. I hold her close, hardly daring to breathe. How long have I dreamed of holding my mother like this? Of her seeing me as her son rather than Pyotr's shadow?

"I wouldn't be here if... if I had any other choice." she chokes out between sobs. "But I don't. I don't know where else to go."

"What's wrong?" My heart starts racing. "Tell me what happened."

Her fingers dig into my arms with desperate strength. Rain streams down her face, mixing with tears. The sight of her like this—broken and terrified—rips open wounds I've spent decades trying to heal.

"He took her!" The scream tears from her throat, raw and primal.

"Who?" My mind races through possibilities, each worse than the last.

"Serena! My baby girl. My daughter." Her voice cracks. "Kirsan took her this morning!"

The world tilts sideways.Daughter?

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