Page 156 of Immaculate Deception (Romanoff Bratva)

Who knows if Lukas is at Brigitte’s house? Maybe Brigitte herself isn’t even here—I don’t know.

But I have to try. It’s the only place I can think to look.

Since Jorik and I broke up, he’s moved, so I have no idea where he’s living anymore. Even if I wanted to go straight to him, I couldn’t.

This is my last lead to rescue my son. My only lead.

I hope to God it works.

Her porch light is off and I don’t see any lights in the front windows. When I try the knob, it’s locked.

But I also know where Brigitte keeps her spare key.

I told her, time and time again, not to stash it outside her door. I told her I’d keep it for her and I’d be happy to bring it over to her anytime she needed. She did eventually give me a spare key, but she never got rid of the one that stuck to the back of her mailbox with a magnet.

Today, I’m grateful for her lax security.

I slide the key into place and unlock the door as quietly as I can, pushing it open.

“Thanks, Bridge,” I mutter to myself.

The number of times I’ve bounded into my best friend’s house carrying Chinese takeout or cheap wine makes this creeping entrance even more strange.

But everything is different now.

Brigitte isn’t who I thought she was. Every single memory we had together was fake. She was playing me, spying on me for information. I have no way to know what was real and what wasn’t, so everything is suspect. Everything is tainted.

I’ve lost so much in the last month and a half.

I lost the future I thought I’d have with my son.

I lost the past I had with my best friend.

I lost a piece of myself I’m not sure I’ll ever get back.

And yet, even with all of that, I refuse to give up on Lukas. I will find him if it’s the last thing I do. I won’t let our story end this way.

Brigitte’s house smells like her, a mix of incense and lemon Pledge, so I know she’s been here recently.

The first floor is dark and empty. I tiptoe up the stairs, skipping the third and fifth stairs, which I know squeal under even the slightest weight.

How many times have I helped Brigitte up these stairs after she had too much to drink?

One night, we both tumbled down them when she lost her balance. I tried to get her up again, but she passed out and I ended up making her a little nest of blankets to sleep on at the base of the stairs. I slept on the couch.

We laughed and laughed about it all the next morning over coffee and pastries. The memory cuts deep.

Brigitte betrayed me in a way that can never be forgotten or forgiven. But none of that changes the fact that she was one of the most important people in my life.

When my parents died, I thought I’d lost the only family I would ever have. I was an orphan, lost and alone.

And then Brigitte found me. She became my sister.

Losing her this way feels like another death.

The girl I thought I knew has ceased to exist. Worse, she has been replaced by a monster. By someone I don’t recognize. By someone I’ll kill if I get the chance.

On the second-floor landing, I pause, listening to see if anyone is behind any of the doors. I don’t hear anything, so I creep towards her guest room. If Lukas was here, that’s where she would have made the nursery.

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