Page 58 of The Russian Retribution

“It’s nothing,” I say quietly, biting on the inside of my cheek as another wave of powerful, painful cramps squeezes through my abdomen. “I’m fine.”

“Anastasia…” Erik’s voice softens and his eyes flood with worry. “You’re not fine. What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I snap. “You can go.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” he scoffs.

“Me neither,” Faina remarks.

“Well, someone has to get the doctor!” I remind them.

“I don’t have my phone,” Faina murmurs, glancing over at my desk. “Shit. Fine. I’ll be right back.” Faina gives me one more concerned look, and then she hurries from the room, leaving Erik and me alone.

Vendetta.

“What did he mean?”

“Hmm?” Erik’s attention is on my legs where blood stains the insides of my thighs. Sliding the blanket from the back of the couch, I cover myself quickly so he looks up into my eyes.

“What did Viktor mean?”

“He didn’t mean what he was saying,” Erik sighs. “He’s… stressed. And it hardly matters when you’re bleeding, Anastasia. What is going on?”

“Nothing,” I say coolly. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. What did he mean about a vendetta?”

Erik’s gaze falls away for a second, and a strange look passes over his face, like he didn’t quite realize I’d heard them. “He… It’s nothing. He feels ganged up on.”

“Bullshit.” My chest squeezes tightly like my heart is clasped in the palm of a hand. “He said you had a vendetta. That you both do. What the fuck?” Each word makes my heart race faster and faster as all sorts of possible scenarios flood my mind.

I trust Erik. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m falling for him, but the venom in Viktor’s voice when he spat out those words about a shared vendetta scares me more than the blood does.

Please don’t tell me I made a mistake.

Please.

“You heard wrong,” Erik says, and his tone wavers. “In all the commotion, I mean, you just started bleeding and you’re in pain. Anastasia, this isn’t normal.”

“Don’t change the subject,” I say tightly, fighting to keep my voice steady through the increasing cramps and the heat of upset bubbling in my chest. “What did he mean?”

Erik looks me right in the eye. “Why are you bleeding?”

So that’s how it is. He won’t tell me the truth, just like I won’t tell him the truth.

My baby is still a secret, which is part of the reason I don’t want to go to the hospital. Hospitals keep records, and all it takes is for the wrong person to see me.

And I don’t want Erik to find out.

So we fall into a quiet stalemate where our own thoughts fill in the secrets.

And then the pain gets worse. It feels like someone has thrust a molten rod up inside me and is churning up my insides. The pain makes me sob and I fall from the couch. Blood soaks into the cushions, and Erik is right there with me, begging me to go to the hospital.

I refuse.

But panic sets in.

I hadn’t fully decided on what to do with this baby, but the sudden prospect of losing it terrifies me. I don’t want this decision made for me.

“Anastasia.” Erik cups my face. “You need to breathe for me. You’re panicking and if you won’t let me take you to a hospital, then you need to get a hold of yourself, okay? Breathe for me. Please!”

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