Page 93 of Cinderella and the Daddy
26
CINDY
The compound feels smaller each day. Two weeks of lockdown, and I'm starting to get a little stir-crazy. It’s not like I’m confined to a cell. The house is huge. There is plenty to do, but it’s just the idea of being locked down.
My hand drifts unconsciously to my stomach—still flat, still keeping our secret safe beneath my ribs. The baby is still a secret. I understand why we need to keep it that way.
Although our enemies already know the truth.
And that’s why he’s out there every day trying to find anyone who poses a threat to our child.
I miss him. I miss Luka.
He leaves before dawn and returns after Leo's asleep, his jaw tight with a tension that makes my chest ache. He’s a man on a mission. I know he won’t rest until he finds Yuri. And my father.
Anna's and Drew's faces flashed across the evening news three days ago—officially identified,the reporter said with that practiced tone they reserve for tragedies. I waited for guilt tocrash over me, for some remnant of the girl who once called Anna a friend to surface and mourn. Instead, I felt nothing but hollow relief that twisted in my stomach. They made their choices. They chose to be evil.
I’ve checked online and there hasn’t been any mention of a funeral.
It would be Charles to arrange it, and he’s disappeared. He’s abandoned his children.
"Cindy, look!" Leo's voice cuts through my brooding as he points toward the garden fountain. We've been walking the same path for twenty minutes, but his enthusiasm never dims. A butterfly lands on the stone cherub's outstretched hand.
I have no reason to complain about my gilded prison. The grounds are beautiful. The house has everything we could want or need.
And I get to hang out with Leo.
I need to stop being so sullen.
"Beautiful," I murmur, but my eyes scan the perimeter automatically. Luka's paranoia is contagious, apparently. There are extra guards now. The weight of being watched never quite settles comfortably on my shoulders. It should make me feel safe, but it only serves as a reminder of the danger lurking beyond the walls of the compound.
Leo runs ahead to get a closer look at the butterfly. It’s a gorgeous day. Not too hot. There’s a nice breeze, and I can smell the fresh-cut grass. My sense of smell feels like a superpower these days.
For a moment, everything feels almost normal. Almost peaceful.
Then I see Grigori.
He's sprinting across the courtyard with the kind of speed that makes my blood turn to ice. His face is set in grim determination, and there's something in his eyes that makes every instinct I have scream danger.
"Leo!" I call, but Grigori reaches him first.
In one fluid motion, he sweeps up the little boy under his arm like Leo weighs nothing at all. He’s carrying him like Leo is a football. For a brief second, I think maybe he’s playing. Grigori loves to roughhouse with Leo.
Before I can even process what's happening, Grigori's arm clamps around my waist like a vice. My feet leave the ground, the world tilting sickeningly as he throws me over his shoulder. My ribs slam into hard muscle, driving every bit of air from my lungs.
"Leo!" The boy's name comes out as a wheeze.
The world bounces violently—sky, ground, sky, ground. My hair whips across my face, blinding me. I can hear Leo screaming somewhere nearby, high and terrified. Mac is barking, snarling, trying to follow, not understanding why everyone is running.
A bullet whines past—so close I feel the air displacement. Grigori grunts but doesn't slow. Something warm splatters across my dangling hand. His blood? Mine?
"Get down! Get down!" Someone's screaming in Russian.
I try to lift my head to see what's happening, but Grigori's hand pushes it back down. "Stay low!"
My stomach rebels against the motion, morning sickness mixing with terror. I taste bile and swallow it down. Can't throw up. Not now. Not upside down.
"What—" I start to protest, but then I hear it.
