Page 113 of Midnight Sanctuary

“I fail to see the problem here, Doctor.”

His whole face is blotchy, sweat beading at his temples and above his upper lip. “I’ve been the doctor for the Bugrov Bratva for a long time now,” he whispers in a choked, formal tone. “And my loyalty at the end of the day is to you. Please don’t forget that.”

I frown. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“I’ve treated you many times. I know all your scars and surgeries, your medical history, your genetic makeup, your blood type. And… the result of the tests that I conducted on Alyssa’s babies suggests… thatyou…are not their father.” He lifts his eyes to mine and gulps, the only sound audible in this claustrophobic, damp little room. “I-I’m sorry, I really am. But I ran the test twice just to be sure.”

I take an instinctive step forward and Grigory steps back, raising the file as some sort of literal paper shield between us. Her name stares back at me, the letters bold and unrelenting.Alyssa Walsh.The imaginary Bugrov that I could see at the end of her name just a moment ago seems to fade away.

Pulse pounding, I turn my back to the doctor.How can this be?She has been under my roof, under my eye, formonths. Apart from my people, she hasn’t had contact with the outside world. Other than the days she was forced to spend under Sobakin’s—

I freeze. My body goes cold and immediately, I remember the way I had found her when I’d broken into Sobakin’s safe house. She was lying chained to a bed, her clothes in disarray, that fucking monster leering over her ready to pounce. I thought I arrived in time to save her—but what if she lied to protect me from the truth? What if the worst had already happened? What if that was the second time he had visited her? Or the third? Or the fourth?

My mind is grappling with that possibility when reason starts to kick in. No—she told me that she already suspected she was pregnant by then. She’d said as much to Polly while they were hostages together.

Which means she was pregnantbeforeSobakin’s goons stole her away from me.

I try desperately to think of the piece of this puzzle that I’m missing. There’s something there that I’m not seeing.What am I not seeing?

“U-Uri…?”

I whip around to face Grigory. “You’re sure about this?”

He passes me the file. “See for yourself. The results are conclusive. Those babies are not yours. But—”

My eyes snap to his. “But?”

“Based on your DNA and theirs, it seems that the father is… closely related to you.”

I thought I was confused before—but that one really throws me for a loop. I open the file and stare at the results on the paper. I may as well be reading gibberish. None of the numbers, words, or symbols mean anything to me. Disgusted, I close the file and fling it to the floor.

Grigory flinches away from me. “I-I’m sorry, sir.”

“How closely related?”

“Pardon?”

The words are poison coming out of my mouth. It feels like a betrayal even saying it out loud. Then again—genetic makeup doesn’t lie. Science doesn’t lie.

Brothers, on the other hand…

“Is it possible that we’re talking about a… brother?”

“Yes, it’s possible,” Grigory says with a deep sigh.

So Lev or Nikolai. The moment their names take shape in my head, I know who it is. Lev may have the body of an adult but he’s got the mind of a child. And Alyssa would never have crossed that line with him.

But Nikolai?

In a sudden torrent of memory, I recall every instance I walked into her room to find the two of them sitting together, laughing about some inside joke or sharing some sentimental story with each other. Nikolai opened up to her about our childhood. He doesn’t even talk about that shit with me. But with Alyssa… there are different lines drawn in the sand. Or maybe none at all.

My hands ball into fists when I think about Alyssa assuring me that she and Nikolai were just friends. She was pissed at my own anger, matter of fact. The wordtrusthad been bandied about. As though it meant something to her. As though it meant something tohim.

Fuck.

Fuck.

FUCK!

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