Page 23 of Plaintive Vow


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The more time passes, the more I convince myself that, yes, Daniil’s out getting laid, and when he gets home I’ll chew him out, we’ll go to bed angry, and we can go right back to pretending everything’s fine in the morning.

Do I wish he’d found a way to be content in our marriage? Of course.

I constantly wish I was enough for him, but wishes aren’t reality. Instead, marrying me hurt his reputation with the pakhan, and Daniil could never let that lie.

At least he didn’t divorce me and leave me for the wolves. It would’ve been easier for him, but his affair lets him keep his standing while keeping me alive. It’s better this way.

At least I’m alive to resent his choices.

I watch as the clock ticks away another hour before I give up and move my vigil to the front room, sitting on the bottom of the stairs and fidgeting with my ring while I wait for headlights to pull into the driveway.

I check my phone again. Still nothing.

I swear, when Daniil shows up completely fine, I’m going to strangle him. Then I’ll have to figure out how to bring him back to life, because Niko and I need him. Even so, I’m still going to kill him, and it’s going to feel great.

When finally,finallyI’m treated to the reflection of lights in the driveway, anger has overtaken my worry. Was it too mucheffort to send a single text message? Or make a quick call? Hell, smoke signals would’ve worked at this point.

My line of thought stops dead when instead of keys in the door, I hear a knock.

Daniil wouldn’t knock. He wouldn’t want to risk waking up Niko. Daniil knows that getting Niko to sleep when he isn’t here is the hardest thing I do on any given day.

Yet there’s a shadow visible through the curtains, standing just outside the front door. I look back up the stairs, a lump in my throat.

Whoever it is, they’re here for me, right? If someone was trying to get ahold of Daniil, they’d call him. And no one needs to talk to a three-year-old at two in the morning.

I’m the only other person here, and I don’t get visitors.

My mind flashes to Pavel’s cold eyes the last time I had the misfortune of finding myself alone with him, shortly after I moved to Chicago with Daniil. It was the first time Daniil brought me around Maksim, and from the promise of violence when he looked at me, Pavel wasn’t happy to see me again.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe again until Daniil and I got home and the doors were locked behind us.

I’ve only seen Pavel a handful of times since then, but I’ve never been able to shake the fear that paralyzes me when I do.

What are the odds that the person at the door is him? He’s too important to do his own dirty work now, right? He wouldn’t stoop below his rank long enough to put his hands on me again. Right?

If he hadn’t been scared off by some passing bystander the one time he caught me alone, he probably would have killed me.I’m not lucky enough for him to make the same mistake twice. My fear twists in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

The person at the door knocks again, louder this time.

If I let them in, I have no recourse to prevent them from doing whatever they want. I can scream and fight, but it probably won’t stop them. I’ll just wake Niko up and scare him half to death. I can’t let that happen.

I have to do what I can to protect him, even if it kills me.

They aren’t here for Niko. They’re here for me. As long as he stays upstairs, they won’t go after him.

I walk toward the door, fingers fumbling as I try to undo the lock. When it clicks, I take a shaky breath and open the door, half expecting to come face-to-face with a weapon, but I don’t.

It’s just Andrei, though that does little to soothe my anxiety.

His hands are tucked into the pockets of the leather jacket he definitely wasn’t wearing when he was here earlier, and he looks more haggard than I’ve ever seen him. His dark hair is a mess, and his gray eyes that normally pin me in place look almost haunted. I glance behind him, expecting to see my husband, but instead I just see his empty car parked in the driveway.

“Can I come in?”

“Where’s Daniil?”

He shakes his head, looking absently at a point over my shoulder. “Please let me in, Blair.” My throat squeezes, trapping the air in my lungs. “Please.” His shoulders are set, and I cling to the doorknob for balance, shaking my head.

“Andrei, where’s my husband?”