Page 173 of Silenced

The bedroom has a couch with seatbelts, so I shuffle us over to it, half-expecting him to stop me.

Only, he doesn’t.

He allows me to maneuver him around the destroyed bedroom and doesn’t stop me from fastening us into our seats for takeoff. Not even arguing when I don’t plunk myself in his lap.

That’s when I know my man is broken.

Really,trulybroken.

I don’t talk. I don’t have anything to say. Nothing that can make his grief go away.

So I sit there.

I hold his hand.

And he lets me.

That’s somehow more terrifying than anything else we’ve done together.

42

CASSIE

We remainin the wreckage of the bedroom for the entirety of the trip to the US as we fly to New York.

The original plan was to stay in the city until Maxim was awake and settled into his home in Brighton Beach, but at some point, while I was sleeping, Nikolai must have made alternative arrangements.

Now, we land there. Misha, who I’m introduced to and who is just as shell-shocked as Nikolai at the news from Miami,doesn’tget off with Maxim.

Instead, the men who made an appearance on the plane after the ambulance showed up at the airfield travel with Maxim as security and Misha joins us on the flight to Florida.

Seeing ten Russians enter the US illegally should have me shaking my head, but in my time with Nikolai, I’ve learned that to him, laws are like telling a child not to eat the chocolate chip cookies on the baking tray fresh from the oven—an order that’s ripe for ignoring.

For the first quarter of the flight to Florida, we stayed in the destroyed bedroom. I worked on my notes in the quiet, and Nikolai mostly stared into space, not saying anything—it’s not as if there’s much change from the regular. Except this time, it feels different.

Less about being mute, more about being speechless and scared.

I didn’t realize how that’d affect me.

Nikolai is endlessly competent. Ceaselessly unflappable. To see himvulnerableis both endearing and heart-wrenching. In a strange way, it’s almost an honor that he’d letmesee him like this.

He doesn’t exactly decompress, but with an hour to go until we land, he encourages me to stand and, together, we move into the main space on the jet.

Nikolai’s men are used to seeing me sit on his knee, but Misha is perturbed by the sight, something he backs up with frequent scowls he aims at me. I’ve no idea what they’re talking about, but I can feel Nikolai’s tension as if it were my own.

When he hisses something at Misha then snags my hand in his, raises it to his mouth, and kisses my knuckles, I stop zoning out on the notebook on my lap and tune in.

“What’s wrong?”

Nikolai’s smile is tight as he signs, “Nothing.”

“I asked what the hell Nikolai is doing bringing a gold digger with him to fucking Moskva.”

My brows lift. “I assume you don’t know our meet/cute?”

Misha blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I drawl. “Meet/cute.”

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