Page 41 of Chained Fate
I watch her for another moment, drinking in everything about her, and then I go to the bedroom so I can call Alina’s doctor about the morning-after pill.Afterward, I’ll reach out to my doctor about scheduling a vasectomy.Before I can place the first call, however, my phone screen lights up with an incoming videocall request.
It’s Katya, my father’s hospice nurse.
My chest ices over.
This is it.
He’s dead.
It’s over.
Steeling myself, I swipe to accept the call—only to regret it instantly.
As soon as the video fills my screen, Katya’s broad mien disappears, replaced byhisface.
His gaunt, aged-by-three-decades-in-three-months, but unmistakablyaliveface.
I move to disconnect, but my father is already speaking.
“Alexei…” His voice is an agonized rasp.It’s shocking he can say anything at all given that the cancer has spread to his vocal cords as well as just about every organ in his body.“Please, son… listen to me.Let me explain.”
Despite myself, I hesitate, my finger hovering over the disconnect button.There’s nothing he can say, no explanation he can give to heal the Grand Canyon-sized rift that formed between us the moment I read Ksenia’s diary and realized my father was even more of a monster to his family than to his enemies.Yet I still fucking hesitate, my stomach roiling as I stare at the screen, struck by what cancer has done to the strong, brutal man who’d loomed so large in my childhood and early adolescent years, by the way it has laid waste to him, diminishing him to this skeletal, dying creature anyone would pity.
Once upon a time, I feared this man.
I respected him.
I even fucking loved him despite the mixture of neglect and iron-fisted discipline that had been his parenting style.
Maybe a part of me is still stuck in that mode because instead of hanging up like I should, I move my finger to the edge of my phone and let him speak.
Chapter20
Alina
I’m killing the first-level boss for the third time when distant voices enter my consciousness.The boss dissolves in front of me as if I’ve executed the most advanced maneuver—which I haven’t—and I growl in frustration, eyes popping open.
Oh.
I’m on the couch.
That was a dream, not a bug in my code.
The voices that woke me are still there, speaking quietly somewhere nearby.The kitchen, most likely.As I rub the remnants of sleep out of my eyes, I recognize the deep timbre of Alexei but not that of the other man.
We have company.
Crap.Did Alexei have a chance to clean up in the kitchen?It was a mess when we left it, shards of dishes all over the floor and everything.If the guest saw it, he must know what went down… unless he’s decided that Alexei and I had a knock-down, drag-out fight.
I’d almost rather he think that.
Face burning, I rise from the couch, only to wince again at the pulling soreness inside.It’s worse than this morning, which makes sense given that we had sex again.On the kitchen table.
After I admitted that I want to stay.
I swallow and glance down at myself, not ready to deal with the implications of that.Instead, I focus on my clothes—which are not the least bit company appropriate.
I’m dressed in a pair of fuzzy gray sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt that I found among the new clothes Alexei got for me.I chose them both because my skin felt dry after my second shower of the day, and because I associate video games with comfort.As a young teen, I practically lived in sweats, much to my mom’s consternation.
