Page 43 of Pregnant Prisoner By the Bratva
“No,” the word fell off my mouth. “No, no, no….” I left Hector and rushed over to my sister.
She lay in the snow, her blood smeared on the rock’s surface.
“Maria!” I took her head in my arms and tapped her face. “Come on, stay with me.”
Still no response.
With a shaky hand, I reached and felt for a pulse, but to my biggest shock, it was futile. “No….”
I sensed Hector’s presence behind me, and when I turned, I felt his blade piercing my skin. A deep groan escaped my lips as he pushed his knife through my ribs.
The hot, searing pain forced me down to one knee, gasping, blood soaking through my parka. Determined to take Hector down with me, I struggled against his strength to pull the blade back out. And with everything in me, I jabbed the knife in through his throat.
He fell to his knees before me, both hands on his neck as his blood—thick and warm—flowed like a river. I stood over him, clutching my wound, and watched the life fade from his eyes until his now limp body thudded onto the snow.
Just when I thought it was over, the storm I sensed earlier came upon me.
The snow shifted beneath me with a sickening crack, and the mountain roared.
Avalanche.
I tried to save my sister’s body, but it was too late.
The world blurred to white chaos. Trees snapped, and snow rushed like a living wall. I crawled, struggling against the storm, blood trailing behind me. Snow was everywhere, and I could barely see a damn thing. The biting cold seeped into my wound, causing my lungs to scream.
Soon, I fell unconscious, buried in the snow that swallowed everything.
I blinked back to the present after narrating the incident to Ester. Lifting the glass to my lips, I took another sip. “When I woke up, I had to dig my way out with frostbitten fingers—clawed up through the cold.”
Ester stared at me with sympathy in her eyes, like I was something to be pitied, and I hated that.
“Your sister?” she asked.
“Never found her body,” I replied. “So, we buried an empty coffin.”
She paused for a moment, her eyes never leaving me. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I ignored her sympathy and walked back to my chair.
“For what it’s worth.” She rose to her feet, both hands in the back pockets of her pants. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. I know what it’s like to lose family.”
There was an awkward silence between us, the kind that bred vulnerability and all the nonsense that came with it. Her expression was soft and welcoming, and when she looked at me, there was no anger in her eyes, no disdain. Nothing. Just someone who’d truly experienced my kind of pain. Someone who genuinely understood.
It was comforting in a strange way, and even the way she looked at me was different tonight.
I broke eye contact, cleared my throat, and sank into my chair. “I’ve got a lot of work to do tonight. And you need to rest,” I said, glancing up at her.
She nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Of course.”
Ester lingered a little while longer before turning around to take her leave.
It was clear to me now, after this little conversation, that whatever I felt for her that night in New York was still very much alive.
Ester had ignited a flame in me tonight, and with this baby she was carrying, I couldn’t help but think this was the start of something new.
It was both fascinating and alarming at the same time.
Chapter 17 – Ester
