Viktor took a step forward, his voice low and threatening. “Do you have any idea what this means, Maeve? Are you aware of the mess this has caused?”
Her jaw clenched as she took a step back. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask to be married to him, a stranger who revealed himself to me after we got married. I was forced into this by my father, sold off in exchange for weapons. So, no. I know nothing of the mess this has caused, but I know I am not at fault. Not for what happened that day and not for what happened tonight.”
Viktor shut his eyes briefly, his nostrils flaring as Kostya pulled him back. Ilya stared at her.
“So you’re a victim—is that what you’re saying?”
She swallowed thickly. “I was.”
“Was?”
“He doesn’t make me feel like a victim,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “Not anymore, at least.”
“Of course, he doesn’t,” Viktor said, pinching his nose like it was the obvious thing in the world. “He’s stupidly in love with you, that’s why. He looks at you like it hurts to breathe. I’ve never seen him so irritatingly in love with a woman before.”
“He may be too stubborn to say it out loud, but we’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Kostya added with a nod. “And you’re a Nikolai now, whether you like it or not. The moment he put a ring on your finger, he made you his responsibility.”
Maeve wasn’t sure if the sickness she felt was more from guilt or if it was pregnancy-related. She couldn’t tell them that there was a high chance already, not when they just found out who she was.
“Anyway, the mess has been made,” Ilya concluded, pulling out his phone from his pocket. “You are a complication we didn’t see coming, that’s for sure, but the good news is that it’s in our hands. It’s obvious that your father knows who Fedya is, so you’ll both be moved to the estate for the time being, until we wrap this bullshit up.” There was a dark look on his face. “It’s gone on for too long. Sparing your father was a mistake on my part.”
Her limbs were heavy with dread as she made her way back to Fedya’s ward after the bullet had been taken out of him. He was asleep, a little pale, chest rising and falling in uneven patterns. His skin glistened with sweat, his brows knit together in annoyance even though he was barely conscious. Maeve didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
She touched his forehead, feeling the heat of his skin sear into her fingers. He was burning up like a volcano, so she looked around until she found a basin in the corner. She filled it with hot water and began gently dabbing his skin with a washcloth.
He’s stupidly in love with you, that’s why. He looks at you like it hurts to breathe. I’ve never seen him so irritatingly in love with a woman before.
And you’re a Nikolai now, whether you like it or not. The moment he put a ring on your finger, he made you his responsibility.
And then all at once, she began to cry. The sobs came like a dam breaking through, blurring her vision as she took a shaky step away from him. Her gasps came in ugly hiccups asshe pressed her face into her cold palms, crying like a baby. Not just fear for Fedya or what could have happened to him tonight, because it could have been so much worse. The bullet could have hit his chest instead or sunk into his head. She could have lost him tonight, and that would be her fault. Because if she’d told him right after he received that call from Cormac, told him the truth of why her father had married her to him, he’d be better prepared for the ambush. Better still, they probably wouldn’t have gone in the first place.
There was Aleksander, still lurking in the shadows even though he was present tonight. There was the pregnancy she hadn’t confirmed either. If, by any chance at all, her father found out, he would kill her. She feared his wrath as much as she hated him.
You hate him, and you still have his burner phone in your clothes.
Everything felt like it was too much. Too overwhelming. She felt like the world was crashing down on her simply because she was too stupid to make a decision, to decide between turning her back on her blood for life or turning her back on the man she loved.
Weak. She felt so goddamn weak.
She barely heard the ruffling of sheets beneath all those ugly sobs that wracked her body, barely felt the weight of his gaze on her until she heard his voice amidst the chaos in her head.
“I hate it when you cry,” he said, and when she turned, she found him staring at her with a deep frown on his face. He was sitting up, annoyed at the tears on her face. “Especially over something that isn’t your fault.”
Maeve dragged her hands over her face and sniffed. Her face was beetroot red. “You’re awake.”
“Hard to sleep with you crying like that.”
She let out a laugh that sounded more like a hiccup. “You could have died tonight.”
“I’m not that easy to kill,” he said with a shrug. “Unfortunately for everyone. You would know. You’ve tried before.”
Maeve smiled through her tears despite herself. She scooted closer to him and could barely stop herself from pressing her lips to him. He kissed her back softly and quietly, and when she pulled back, words stumbled out of his mouth.
“I am in love with you,” he said, his hand wrapped around her arm, refusing to let her go. “Are you aware that I’m crazy about you?”
Maeve tried really hard not to cry, but she could feel the tears building up like a waterfall. “You’ve said it, so I’m aware now.”
“Good,” he nodded, kissing her again. He didn’t seem to care that she didn’t say it back. “That’s really good. I needed you to know that.”
