Page 3 of Owned By Shadows

Looking away from him, I spy what appears to be a phone on the table, and with a small smile, I rush over to it, picking it up just as an incoming FaceTime call makes it buzz. My grin widens when I see Willow’s name, and I answer immediately.

“Hey, babe,” she sighs, and I can tell by the tremble in her voice and the tears gathering in her eyes that this will go the way of many of the conversations we’ve had over the past couple of weeks. Namely, we both have a good cry.

“Hey, you,” I reply, my voice croaking, and before I know it, the tears I was holding back spill over and down my cheeks and we’re both sobbing. We don’t need words to articulate our sadness because the missing piece of our lives is too obvious. The distance between us doesn’t diminish our friendship, or the fact that we’ve become closer in the past couple of weeks.

A plate is set down on the table in front of me, Hunt’s arms wrapping around me from behind as he pulls me close and appears on the screen, his own eyes red and so fucking sad.

“Hey, sis. How you holding up?” he asks, his voice gruff, and before, I would have found it sexy, but now I hate the reason that it sounds so broken.

“I j–just can’t believe he’s gone, Hunt,” she stammers, wiping her face as we both try to get ourselves under control. I wonder if I will ever stop crying, or is this it, this grief that feels all-consuming?

“I know, Willow Bear, I know,” he rasps, pulling me closer to him, and I sink into him, trying to absorb his warmth.

With a shuddering exhale, she squares her shoulders. “What are your plans today?”

It’s dark behind her, and I glance at the time on the screen, realising it’s almost lunchtime here, so it must be very early morning for her in Colorado.

“Ummm…” I trail off, chewing my chapped bottom lip as I glance up at Hunter. I feel like I’m in survival mode, just barelyable to stay above the surface, and while a part of me knows that Hunt’s hurting so much too, I can’t stop relying on him to help guide me through this.

“I thought we could get out, get some fresh air after we eat,” he says, looking away from the screen at me. My stomach churns. I’ve not left the flat since that dreadful night, and I’m not sure I’m ready to face the world just yet. “We could get some things for the baby.”

His hand strokes my stomach, which seems to get bigger by the day, and as if it knows, our child gives me a kick.

“Okay, sounds good,” I say, my tone unconvinced. The sun is shining though, so I think he’s right, some fresh air would be good.

“I can’t wait to see what you get. Send me photos?” Willow asks, and I look back at the screen to see a soft smile on her face as she looks at us. “I can’t believe I’m finally going to be an auntie.”

We told her about the baby, but kept the details of its conception to ourselves. I’m not ready to have to explain my choices just yet because I don’t want the excitement in her eyes to end, even though I know she won’t judge. I don’t know what I’d do if pity replaced it, or even disgust.

“You’ll be the best auntie,” I reply, my voice quiet as another wave of anguish washes over me. Roman will never be a father, and he would have made one of the best. “I should eat, but we’ll talk soon, yeah?” My voice is thick again, the tears trembling along my eyelashes.

“Yeah. Love you,” she answers, sucking her lower lip in and trying to smile, but her eyes are rapidly filling up too.

“Love you,” I whisper before I end the call, dropping the phone onto the table with a clunk and then spinning in Hunter’s arms.

I bury my face in his chest, letting the wave of grief overwhelm me once more as he holds me tightly and we mourn together.

CHAPTER THREE

“DANCING AFTER DEATH - STRIPPED” BY MATT MAESON

NIKOLAI

As fucking always, things took a little longer to organise than I would have liked, and it’s not until evening that the private jet is ready to leave. I step out of the black town car, one of my men giving me a nod as he shuts my door before driving off. Andrei and Dima are on the tarmac, having arrived earlier to ensure everything is loaded.

“The pilot and co-pilot are our men, no stewardess, so we can relax once we take off,” Andrei informs me as I reach his side, the cool night air a welcome relief from this last-minute heat wave we seem to be having. Fucking unpredictable English weather.

“And our guest?” I ask under my breath as we climb the stairs to board.

“Settled in the bedroom and should come around soon,” Andrei answers, Dima pulling the door closed and locking it behind us.

The jet is the height of luxury, all polished wood and chrome, and I trust my men to have scoured it for bugs and removed any, so we can talk freely. My eyes dart to the back, where a door leads to the bedroom on the jet, and where our guest currently resides.

“I’ll wait for him to wake up in there,” I tell them, grabbing the chilled vodka and two glasses from the bar before heading to the back. They don’t follow me, though Andrei gives me a knowing smirk that has me baring my teeth at him. It only makes him bark out a laugh as the captain informs us we are ready for takeoff and to buckle up.

Gripping my peace offering in one hand, I use my thumb to unlock the door to the bedroom, darting in and quickly locking it behind me.

“You have ten seconds to explain to me why the fuck you shot me, then had your goons nurse me back to health, and why I’m tied to a fucking bed in an aeroplane, Nikolai, or I swear to fucking god the first chance I get, I’m ripping your pretty throat out,” a deep voice growls behind me, and a grin turns my lips upwards as I turn around, the plane picking up speed.

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