Page 81 of Ruby Mercy

It makes sense why Rayne was in such a panic when she got the call. It was about her child. Something was wrong, and she had to get here.

It would be admirable if I wasn’t so shell-shocked. For the first time in a long time, I did not see this coming.

When I looped around the block, I expected to see Rayne sneaking out of the building to catch a bus to some other part of town. I thought stopping at the school might be a ruse to get somewhere else. To see someoneelse.

A secret child was not on my bingo card.

“I thought Natalia was your friend.” The little girl has golden chestnut hair that falls in messy waves around her little shoulders. Her face is tucked against Rayne’s thigh and her arms are wrapped around her legs.

Now, I feel like I’d always know this little girl belonged to Rayne. I’ve never seen sunshine emanate from anyone else’s hair like that before.

“I have lots of friends,” Rayne tells her. “Kirill is one of them. He’s nice.”

“He doesn’t look nice,” her little voice whimpers.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts, and I realize that my face is screwed up in frustration. I ease the tension in my forehead and flatten my mouth into a neutral line. I’m a lot of things to a lot of people, but I generally don’t make it a habit to terrify children.

I kneel down and give a small wave. “Hello.”

The little girl buries her face even further into Rayne, recoiling from me. I’m not surprised. Kids don’t typically care much for me. They never have. Ilya was the only exception.

Rayne is chewing on her lip to the point I’m surprised it isn’t bleeding. She’s riddled with nerves. Is this why she tried to push me away earlier?

You don’t know a damn thing about my life!she said. Did she really think my feelings for her would disappear the moment I knew she had a kid? Clearly, she has no idea what I feel for her.

A child doesn’t change anything.

“Sorry if I scared you, little one,” I say, doing my best to sound gentle. “I know I look mean, but I promise I’ll be nice to you.”

The girl peeks out at me. Her hair shades her face so she looks like a little feral child.

I hold out my hand to shake. “My name is Kirill. What’s yours?”

There’s a beat of hesitation. I’m positive she’s going to burst into tears. Then the little girl surprises me and takes my hand.

“I’m Yuliana.”

Rayne is staring at us, eyes wide like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. I’m not sure if she’s shocked by my behavior or Yuliana’s.

“Yuliana,” I repeat. “That’s a beautiful name.”

The girl pulls her hand away and uses it to shove her hair back. Finally, I can see her face.

And when I do, I freeze.

The next few seconds pass impossibly slowly. She blinks, long lashes brushing the tops of her chubby cheeks. But I’m fixated on her eyes. They’re as green as spring grass after a rainstorm. They’re emerald with flecks of gold in the sunlight.

They’re Ilya’s eyes.

They’re our father’s eyes.

They’remyeyes.

The similarity hits me at once, but full realization takes another beat. This little girl has Rayne’s hair and my eyes.

She’s four to five years old, by my best guess.

She’s mine.

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