Page 26 of Beautiful Agony

"I gave you to him willingly so that I might be free of that place." Polina's eyes dart around the room wildly, as if searching for shadows in the corners. Her fingers keep clutching at her throat. "Why do you insist on forcing me to remember?"

Martin wraps a protective arm around her shoulders, but she shrugs it off, taking a step back.

"I can still remember those walls. That room." Her voice breaks. "I can still smell him, feel his hands—" She cuts herself off with a choked sound.

Vadim's fingers slip from mine as his arm falls limply to his side. I want to reach for him again, but something in his posture stopsme. He looks exactly like he did that night when I accused him of becoming like Pyotr—completely shattered.

"Get out." Polina's words come out as barely more than a whisper. When Vadim doesn't move, she raises her voice. "Get out!"

I watch Vadim struggle to form words, his lips moving soundlessly. The proud, powerful pakhan who commands armies with a word seems to have vanished.

And instead, there's just a boy desperate for his mother's love.

"I'm sorry," Vadim whispers, rising to his feet. "We shouldn't have come."

My heart breaks at the defeat in his voice. Before he can take a step, I grip his arm.

"No." The word comes out sharp and clear. "You don't get to do this to him."

Polina's storm-gray eyes flash with anger. "You dare?—"

"Yes, I dare." I stand beside Vadim, chin lifted. "Your son is not the monster who hurt you. He's spent his entire life trying to be everything Pyotr wasn't."

"Is that right?" Her gaze drops to my neck, where the last yellowing traces of bruises peek above my collar. "Tell me, did he force himself on you like his father did to me?"

"Mom!" Serena gasps.

"No." I touch my neck deliberately. "He didn't."

Vadim's hand finds mine, trying to pull me back. "Lacey, don't?—"

"She needs to hear this." I squeeze his fingers before turning back to Polina. "Your son fights to save women from monsters like Pyotr. He's dismantling the very system that hurt you. He saved your daughter. The least you can do is to look at him and acknowledge that he's different."

"Zvyozdochka, please," Vadim whispers. "We should go."

"No!" I plant my feet firmly. "She needs to understand that you're nothing like him. That you've spent your entire life being accused of the crime for simply being born!"

"Should I just forgive him then?" Polina's voice rises, brittle and sharp. "Should I forget how he killed my brother in front of me? How he made me look into Misha's dead eyes while he—" She chokes on the words.

"No one is asking you to forgive Pyotr!" I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "But Vadim isn't the one who hurt you. He's carried the weight of your pain his entire life, trying to prove he's different."

"Different?" Polina laughs, a hollow sound that makes my skin crawl. "He has Pyotr's blood. His face. His?—"

"But not his heart!" My fingers tighten around Vadim's hand.

Polina's eyes flash dangerously. "You don't know what I suffered."

"No, I don't," I admit. "But I know what your son has done to make sure no one else has to suffer like that again."

The tension crackles between us like lightning about to strike. Neither of us willing to back down, both protecting the people we love.

"Mom." Serena's quiet voice breaks through our standoff. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Vadim."

Polina's head snaps toward her daughter, storm-gray eyes widening.

"I thought... I thought I was going to end up like those other girls," Serena continues. "But Vadim came for me."

I feel Vadim trembling beside me as Serena's words hang in the air. Polina's face crumples, her hand flying to her mouth as she looks between her children.

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