Page 106 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“He was diagnosed with a heart condition. Three blocked arteries. The doctor said that his heart was running on fumes. He had a bypass scheduled two days after he was diagnosed. The doctor told all of us to watch him,” I say. “He wasn’t to be left alone. His condition was fragile and we needed to look out for signs of deterioration. But Mom was at church. Mia and Rob didn’t live at home anymore.”

“You were left alone with him?”

I sigh. “I had a party that Dad had known about for weeks. The boy I liked was supposed to be there. Most girls go to their mothers when they have crushes; I went to him. But after the diagnosis, I told him I’d skip the party, obviously.”

Aleks nods, already seeing how this story ends. “He made you go.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. You think your mother is stubborn? You never met him. He wanted me to have fun, be young, all that. Living is for the brave—that’s what he used to tell me.”

“He’s not wrong.”

“He was in this case,” I say bitterly. “Because he had a massive heart attack about an hour after I left the house. Mom came home from church to find him lying in the middle of the living room floor with his hand over his heart. The coroner said he’d been dead for at least ten minutes by the time she found him.”

When I look up, I realize three things at the same time.

First, Aleks is looking at me with the softest expression I’ve ever seen on him. It’s by no means sympathetic. But it’s the least severe he’s ever looked.

Second, I’ve somehow ended up sitting in the chair opposite him.

And third, I’ve got tears running down my cheeks.

Crying over my dad has never felt weak or embarrassing. I’m happy to cry for him and I don’t care who sees those tears. Each one is a testament to how much I loved him. How much I still love him.

“His death broke you.”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “It did. There was a time when I didn’t think I would ever be whole again.”

“Maybe you were right,” he says. “Because all I see is a woman made of pieces.”

“It’s the price you pay when you love someone.”

“I’ve loved, too,” he says to my surprise. “But no death will ever break me. I take the pain and use it to make me stronger.”

“Who have you loved?” I scoff. “The man in the mirror?”

“It’s irrelevant.”

I look down, wondering why my stomach is flipping nervously. “Right. Why should you open up to me?” I seethe. “I’m only going to be around for a year, right?”

“Unless you decide you want to stay longer.”

“In your dreams, asshole.”

“You’re right about that.” He gets to his feet.

“I won’t stay with you, you know,” I snap up at him. “There’s nothing you can say or do to make me change my mind about that. The minute I’m free, I’m going back to my family.”

He shrugs as though it doesn’t matter to him either way. Then he glances over his now-defaced walls. “I was coming in here to give you freedom of the house, you know. But now, I’m not so sure.”

I jerk to my feet. “Freedom of the house?”

“Only if you promise to keep your doodles confined to the walls of this one room.”

I nod fervently, desperate to get out of this jail cell. “I will.”

“Then you have the freedom to move around the compound as you like.”

“Thank you,” I say—even though he doesn’t deserve it. But it comes out before I can stop it. An instinct from another life.

“And eat more,” he tells me as he heads for the door. “I’m not interested in having a skeleton for a bride.”

“I’m not your bride!”

He laughs darkly. “You are whatever I want you to be.”

Then, just like that, he’s gone. I sigh into the silence.

Three days down as Aleksandr Makarova’s wife.

Only three hundred sixty-two to go.

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