“I’m pregnant.”
Silence was worse than approval or disapproval. And Fedya went a little too silent for her own good. Her heart began to race, her thoughts circling down to the fact that he probably did not think it was good news. For a moment, she considered herself foolish for dropping the bomb just like that. She had been thinking about herself alone all this time.
Just because he said he loved her didn’t mean he was ready for a child. It didn’t mean he was ready to start a family now, just because she was.
Oh god. She pulled away from him, feeling sick. But then his arm curled around her waist, pulling her closer. He was staring at her like she was something out of this world.
“You mean it?” His voice was soft, like gentle raindrops falling on her skin. His eyes were wide, his lips parted in pure astonishment. He looked like he was struggling to put himself together.
“Yes,” she nodded, biting her lip. “I took a test at the hospital.”
“You’re fucking incredible, Maeve.” And then he reached out, cupped her cheek, and kissed her like his life depended on it. Slow and reverent, hard and fast. All at the same time. It left her dizzy, dazed, and happy. His excitement was suddenly so contagious. “Fucking hell, Maeve. Do you have any idea how happy you’ve made me?”
“I thought you would be unhappy—”
He was smiling that dimpled smile. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it until she saw it again. “Why the fuck would I be unhappy about you carrying my—”
A knock came before he could finish his statement.
“I should get that,” he said, still smiling as he kissed her before slipping on a shirt. Maeve sat up, happy and sad at the same time, because she was supposed to follow with bad news, news of her betrayal. But he was smiling so damn hard, kissing her so damn hard too, even as another knock reverberated around the room.
Maeve watched from where she sat on the bed as Fedya opened the door. She could barely see who was behind it since his broad back nearly concealed the entire door. But then he turned around with a package in his hands—a small brown envelope, thick as if it contained a wad of cash. He closed the door with a frown, and Maeve rolled off the bed.
“What’s that?” she asked, inching closer to him.
“I’m not sure,” he said, taking a good look at the envelope. There was no return name, no markings, nothing. The paper was coarse, sporting an odd stain.
Then he opened it in front of her, and the moment the box inside was unwrapped, Maeve felt bile rise so violently in her throat that she was surprised she didn’t throw up all over the floor.
Her hand flew up to her mouth as she stared at the disgusting content inside—a human tongue, bloody and severed, resting on a white cloth already stained dark red. Next to it was a folded letter that Fedya read, cooler than a block of ice, as if there wasn’t a literal tongue in the box he’d just opened.
The smell made Maeve’s stomach lurch. She stepped back, fighting back a gag as she watched Fedya’s features darken slowly the further he read the letter.
“It’s from your father,” he said without looking at her, his fist clenching around the letter. “He says you’ve not done what he asked you to.” He was getting angrier with every word, and Maeve felt the color drain from her face.
“He says you and Margot have been keeping secrets from him, and now he’s taken out her tongue. He knows you’re pregnant, and now he wants me to deliver you to him to avoid bloodshed. He’s just openly declared war on our house.”
Maeve ran a shaky hand through her hair, meeting Fedya’s dark stare with teary eyes. “Fedya—”
“What did he ask you to do?”
Maeve’s skin prickled with regret. There was no use hiding anything now. It was right there in the open in the worst way possible.
Her voice was somewhere between a whisper and a sob. “He wanted me to spy on you.”
Fedya’s fist tightened around the letter. “Since when?”
“The first night.” She pressed a fist to her mouth. “When he called me.”
Fedya turned around, refusing to take a step towards her. His jaw clenched, and there was so much fire in his eyes. He’d never looked at her like that before.
“Tell me every fucking thing, Maeve. Every single thing I need to know.”
And she did. The moment she opened her mouth, the words wouldn’t stop flowing. She told him all she’d been hiding from him, all she knew about her father’s involvement with Aleksander, even though it was limited knowledge at best. She told him how she’d wanted to tell him tonight, how she’d been scared, waiting for the right time because she didn’t want him to hate her.
She crossed the room, opened the drawer where she’d hidden the burner phone, and held it out to him. Fedya felt insulted—either by the fact that it had been right under his nose the whole time or by the fact that he’d trusted her enough not to suspect a thing.
“You knew Aleksander was there that night?” he asked, still staring at the phone in her hands.
