Chapter 10 - The Night Nikolai Came Back
“Put it down,” Saoirse said.
Lucian didn't.
“Nikolai killed one of my men.”
Nikolai pressed a hand against his bleeding side.
“Your man tried to kill me.”
“Why?”
“Because he works for Elena.”
Lucian's face hardened.
“Impossible.”
“That's what I thought.”
Saoirse looked at Lucian.
“Put the gun down.”
He did.
Immediately.
Nikolai swayed.
Tess called an ambulance.
The wound was superficial.
The bullet had grazed him.
Before paramedics arrived, Nikolai handed Saoirse a phone.
It belonged to Lucian's lieutenant, Marcus Vale.
Lucian's cousin.
His most trusted man.
Messages connected Marcus to Elena.
And to Patrick Brennan's death.
Lucian read them.
His face emptied.
Marcus had been beside him for twenty years.
Another trusted person.
Another betrayal.
“Where is he?” Lucian asked.
“Gone,” Nikolai said.
“He'll go to Elena.”
“No.”
Saoirse looked at the financial records.
“He'll go where the assets are.”
Terminal Seven.
Again.
But before anyone moved, Cesily received notice from the court.
The Brennan trust's ownership claim had been provisionally recognized.
Saoirse now controlled enough voting shares to freeze Terminal Seven.
That made her the most important person in the conspiracy.
And the most vulnerable.
She signed the freeze order.
Nikolai watched from the hospital bed.
“You realize what that means.”
“Yes.”
“They'll come for you.”
“Yes.”
“Do you want protection?”
The question mattered.
Saoirse nodded.
“Yes.”
“Mine?”
She looked at him.
“Federal first.”
A tiny smile touched his mouth.
“Good answer.”
“Lucian's people second.”
His smile disappeared.
“Nikolai.”
“I'm learning.”
“And yours third.”
He looked surprised.
“Third?”
“Don't make me move you to fourth.”
For the first time in weeks, Nikolai laughed.
It hurt his side.
Saoirse laughed too.
Something between them shifted.
Not healed.
But alive.
Marcus and Elena disappeared.
Kessler died before giving a formal statement, but his recorded call and Elena's confession strengthened the case.
Pavel agreed to cooperate.
His decision wasn't noble.
He wanted revenge.
Lucian told him revenge wasn't enough.
Pavel nearly punched him.
Brothers, Saoirse thought.
Strangely convincing.
Tess decided she would raise her child independently regardless of Pavel's choices.
He accepted that badly.
Then eventually accepted it properly.
Saoirse respected her.
At thirty-four weeks, Saoirse returned to the mansion.
Not to move home.
To retrieve the nursery items she had purchased herself.
Nikolai joined her.
They entered the west wing.
Anya's room.
Tess had already moved to a protected residence.
The mansion felt hollow.
Saoirse touched the crib.
“You built this.”
Nikolai nodded.
“At three in the morning.”
“I know. You woke me.”
“I thought I was quiet.”
“You dropped the screwdriver six times.”
“Five.”
“Six.”
He smiled.
Then it faded.
“I thought we would bring our child here.”
“So did I.”
“Do you still want that?”
Saoirse looked at him.
“I don't know.”
He nodded.
No pressure.
That helped more than pleading would have.
“I love you,” he said.
“I know.”
“I don't expect that to fix anything.”
“Good.”
“I'll keep saying it anyway.”
“That's your choice.”
“And whether you believe it is yours.”
Saoirse's eyes filled.
He finally understood.
The alarm sounded.
Nikolai immediately moved toward her.
Then stopped himself.
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
He guided her toward the secure room.
Security reported movement beneath the west wing.
A hidden basement passage.
Nikolai hadn't known it existed.
They found the entrance behind Anya's wardrobe.
Federal agents arrived.
Saoirse insisted on seeing the opening after it was cleared.
Below the mansion was an old tunnel leading toward the waterfront.
Viktor's route.
Elena had probably used it for years.
Inside they found files.
Weapons.
Passports.
And a room containing photographs of Saoirse.
Hundreds.
From childhood.
College.
Her first date with Nikolai.
Their wedding.
Her pregnancies.
Her miscarriages.
Saoirse couldn't breathe.
Someone had documented her entire life.
Nikolai looked devastated.
On the desk sat a recent photograph.
Saoirse leaving the hospital three days earlier.
Written across it:
35 WEEKS. FINAL WINDOW.
She wasn't thirty-five weeks yet.
She would be tomorrow.
Nikolai reached for the photograph.
Something underneath it caught Saoirse's attention.
An appointment card.
Her obstetrician's office.
Tomorrow.
10:30 a.m.
Saoirse had an appointment at exactly that time.
Only four people knew.
She turned the card over.
One name had been written on the back.
May you like
The person scheduled to deliver her baby.
Her current obstetrician.
