Page 93 of The Russian Retribution

I want to stay here forever, inside her, watching pleasure contort her face and feeling this constant peace in my soul.

She reaches for me with one hand, and I clasp it, lacing our fingers together. The moment she tightens her grip, her pussyclenches around me and she loudly cries out as she comes for a second time. I find my end inside her at the same time, slamming my cock as deep inside her as I can reach as pleasure courses through my body.

“Fuck!” I gasp, grinding against her with a deep moan. “Fuck…”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Anastasia gasps, panting heavily.

I lean down and kiss her, then ease her fully back onto the lounger. As my cock slips from her, I stand up and take a step to lie down next to her.

Only, it never comes.

Suddenly, darkness sweeps in from all angles and my gut pulls south as if I’m rapidly falling down into the depths of nothing.

I blink, and Anastasia vanishes.

I blink again.

This time, I don’t wake up.

36

ANASTASIA

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The slow swing of the pendulum of the grandfather clock fills the air as I walk the near-abandoned hallways of the estate.

Everyone is gone.

I sent everyone away the day I got home from the hospital. Those who remain are incredibly loyal to me, like Faina, but I’ve made it clear that I don’t want to see a single soul. All of the guards, the kitchen staff, and even the gardeners have been let go. The estate is completely locked down, and no one is allowed in or out.

The only time the gate opens is when Faina takes me to see Erik.

But even those trips are beginning to feel useless. He’s been in a coma for a month now, with no sign of recovery.

I’m alone.

That night on the rooftop will haunt me for the rest of my life.

I continue to walk slowly through hallways void of life and light. The hanging paintings have lost their luster, curtains haven’t been opened in weeks, and a layer of dust is beginning to cover everything. Faina tries to keep on top of it, bless her soul, but I don’t have the heart to care.

Only one room remains filled with any kind of life, and it’s where I now spend ninety-nine percent of my time.

My office.

With a fireplace, several guns on standby, and some books to read to try and occupy my time, it’s the only place I spend my time. I’d sleep there most nights if Faina didn’t interrupt and drag me to bed for the good of my baby.

The baby I nearly lost.

It’s been a month, and to this day, I can still feel the sharp pressure of that impacting knife, followed by the sickening, cold terror that Viktor had killed my baby.

For a few moments, he almost did, but thanks to the incredible doctors by my side, my child was unharmed. The knife missed my child by mere millimeters, puncturing a minuscule hole in the amniotic sac that sealed itself rather quickly. I had surgery to confirm that everything was fine, but no matter how often the doctor explained to me that small holes in the amniotic sac can heal by themselves, especially after things like fetal surgery, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong with my baby.

Countless scans and tests all came back clear, though I insisted on multiple repeats until Faina asked if I was forcing such an issue to remain in the hospital close to Erik.

Maybe that was a part of it.

Reaching my office, I slowly open the door and slip inside. Remaining by the door, I scan the room to make sure everything looks exactly as it was when I left, then I lock the door and move to the couch. Easing myself down, I place one hand over my swollen belly and murmur softly in the back of my throat.

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