by Snow, Jenika
I cleared my throat and looked down at myself. My face felt like it was on fire. I certainly wasn’t the same Nadja. Hell, I wasn’t even Nadja anymore.
“Nadja?”
I waited a heartbeat before I responded. “It’s not Nadja anymore.” He furrowed his brows even more. “It’s Rachel Clayton.”
I didn’t know how much time passed before he finally responded, but it felt like an eternity.
“Rachel Clayton?”
I nodded slowly. “There’s a lot to catch you up on.”
“I guess so.”
We stared into each other’s eyes before I forced myself to move toward him. I sat on the edge of the bed, this massive space between us. I was afraid to get any closer, this weird tension like another person standing right in the middle.
I’d tell him everything that happened during these last years, and I’d start with me agreeing to leave Frankie and go back to Russia.
All so I could make sure Frankie didn’t get caught in the crosshairs of my father and the bratva’s wrath.
18
Frankie
Gone was the innocent girl I’d once known all those years ago.
The woman who sat beside me wasn’t Nadja. She was new, equal parts survival and strength. She was afraid, but she was strong.
She was a warrior.
She may call herself Rachel now, a new identity to hide from someone who may or may not be looking for her. I wanted to fucking kill anyone who thought they could touch her, who made her have to go to this trouble of staying hidden… of having to survive in the worst possible way.
Rachel.
No, she’d never be that girl to me. She’d always be my Nadja.
And as I looked into her eyes—ones that were currently blue because of the contacts she wore—as I took in the strands of her shoulder-length dark-blonde hair—locks that were no longer raven-black and falling down her back—I knew it didn’t matter what she looked like or what she called herself.
This was still the girl I was madly in love with. And if we never saw each other again, she’d be the only woman I’d ever want. I’d die knowing I felt that one perfect emotion in my otherwise fucked up life.
She’d just finished telling me about what happened in the last five years.
Her father forcing her to go to Russia.
Her agreeing, because if not, he would’ve killed me.
I wanted to tell her I would have died a happy man because she would’ve been with me. It would have been a small sacrifice for the time we shared.
Her almost marriage to Maximillian.
I gritted my teeth in possessiveness at that thought.
She is mine.
Then there was the massacre and her father’s death.
I listened silently as she told me that she cried herself to sleep wanting to come back to me, that she wanted to call me, to tell me everything, to run back into my arms.
I wanted that too, baby.
I silently listened, although I wanted to pull her in close, to hold her, tell myself this was real, that she was here. I wanted to tell her I wanted the same things, that there would never be anyone else for me but her.
I yearned for her for so long... so much. And the time away from her hadn’t dimmed that. In fact, it had grown. I’d become even more obsessed, determined to find answers, to find her. But it looked like she found me.
Fate and destiny were in our favor.
She worried about Maximillian coming after her, about the bratva. And those were very real threats, dangers. But I’d be by her side the entire time.
And as she told me these things, all I wanted to do was tell her nothing would hurt her again. Nothing and no one would tear her from my life. I wouldn’t allow it. I’d rather rip my own heart from my chest than have that happen to either of us again.
I hadn’t said anything for the last minute, the heaviness and silence thick around us. I was processing all of this, working it over in my mind, trying to find a solution that would ensure Nadja never had to worry or be afraid again. But this was complex. How could I go up against the bratva? How could I make sure that darkness didn’t touch her again? Even with the help of my brothers, I was no match for that kind of power.
I didn’t know the answer right now, but I’d find a solution, because I’d die trying to keep Nadja safe. That was a fucking given.
“Say something,” she said softly, her eyes wide with fear and uncertainty.
I hated that I was part of the reason she felt like that at this moment. “You’re okay though?” I finally managed to get out. “They didn’t hurt you?” Obviously, she was hurt, her insides and emotions, mentally probably having been put through the meat grinder.
I watched as her throat worked when she swallowed, and I was proud as fuck for her not looking away from me. I knew how uncomfortable this had to be for her.
“No, they didn’t hurt me like that.” Her voice was soft, too soft for my liking. I wanted her to feel comfortable around me, like she used to. I wanted her to know I’d always be there for her.
And I know a part of her realizes that. She came to me. That means everything.
“I searched for you,” I admitted, wanting her to know that. “I never gave up hope, even when everything was so fucking bleak.” She looked like she was going to cry again, her eyes becoming watery. “Shh, none of that, baby,” I whispered. I’d sent Wilder and his woman home after Cullen, Dom, and their women left. I was thankful Kimber said she’d be fine, that the head wound was superficial, and she’d only need some over the counter medication to help with the discomfort.
God, I’d been so thankful to hear that.
A tear spilled from her eye and started a slow trek down her cheek. I didn’t even hesitate to lift my hand and brush the pad of my thumb over it, wiping it away. “You're okay now. You know that?”
She nodded. “I’ve been trying to be so strong, Frankie.”
I felt myself close my eyes as she said my name.
It would always do something so powerful to me.
19
Frankie
The longer I sat there and stared at her, the more I felt this need overcome me, curling its talons deep inside my body before rising up and tearing through me. I couldn’t have controlled myself even if I wanted to.
And I didn’t—want to control any aspect of being with Nadja.
I reached out and wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her close to me, hearing the soft gasp of surprise leave her lips. She didn’t fight me as I pressed her body against mine. In fact, she instantly melted against me, resting her head on my chest, letting out this content sigh.
She’d always been so tiny compared to me, her form feminine and small, my six-foot-two height towering over her by nearly a foot.
And whenever I held her, I felt like she’d break if I wasn’t gentle. I’d never thought of myself as a man who could be soft, but with her, it came so easily. My touches to her body, the way we fit together so perfectly, it made it easy to be gentle with her, to know that even if I thought I could break her, she was stronger than she looked inside and out.
I stared at the wall as I rested my chin on the top of her head, my arms snuggly around her body, afraid that if I loosened my hold or let go, I’d realize this had been nothing but a mirage, maybe even a dream, a fantasy.
I closed my eyes and inhaled, her scent invoking every single memory I had of her to the forefront of my mind as if it all happened just yesterday.
“The day you left…” I felt emotion thick in my throat, closing it up, causing my tongue to swell. The words were hard to get out. I’d always considered myself a strong man, void of the hassle and weight of emotion, of love, but then Nadja had come into my life, turned it upside down, made me realize I wasn’t really a man at all without these emotions, without having her by my side.
She made me want to be a better person, made me not want to be so dark, my life not so set in stone. There was hope and possibilities of
me having a future when I was with her.
“The day you left, I felt like I’d been dropped into this dark pit, no hope of light ever penetrating to the very bowels of it.” I opened my eyes and stared at the wall again, getting lost in thoughts, just rambling, letting the words out. They needed to be said. “I embraced that darkness, let it grow and fester inside me. It became this friend, this companion. I never stopped searching, even when I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere, when there would be no answers, no hope of me even finding you. I never stopped, Nadja.”
She pulled back then and tipped her head to look into my eyes. It didn’t matter what she looked like now. She was still the same woman I loved, would always love. I could see this darkness in her eyes too, the same one that had its claws dug deep into my soul.
We’d always been one and the same. A part of me knew it wouldn’t be like before. She’d need time, no matter how strong our connection was, how it had only grown with time.
But she was mine. She’d always be mine. I would keep telling her that, cementing it in her so she knew without a shadow of a doubt that we were tethered together for life. She’d never be alone.
“I’m sorry for just barging back into your life.” Her voice was so soft, light, like a feather, as if she really didn’t want to say the words. “I had no right to come here, seeking your help, but I had nowhere else to turn.” She looked away from me then, staring at her hands, which rested on her lap. “You probably have a new life, a… family.”
That last word was tense, stiff. I lifted my hand, a finger underneath her chin, and tilted her head back so she was forced to look into my eyes again. For long moments, I didn’t say anything, just stared at her, wishing things could have been different, that there hadn’t been that distance between us.
“You’re my family.” Those words seemed so tame for how I really felt, for how I really meant them to sound. “You’ve always been my family, Nadja. I’m glad you came back. I’m glad you knew you could turn to me for help. That’s how I want it always to be.” I knew she assumed I had a woman in my life. I knew what she’d meant when she said “family,” that she didn’t mean my brothers. I heard that in her voice, saw it in her expression.
I didn’t know how to accurately say all the things I wanted to say. Of course there was the obvious, just coming out with it, but I wanted her to feel the words. I wanted her to experience that what I said was the genuine, bone-deep truth.
So instead of saying anything else, I just leaned in and pressed my lips to hers, closing my eyes and moving my mouth against hers. For a moment, she was stiff against me, but it only took a second for her to melt against my body, for her to wind her arms around my neck. Her breasts were pressed against my chest, and I felt the stiff outline of her nipples.
But this wasn’t about sex. This wasn’t about that kind of pleasure.
And in this moment as we kissed, we connected in a way I hadn’t felt in so long. We were two souls finally coming back together.
I hadn’t realized until this moment exactly how empty I had been without her in my life.
20
Nadja
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the tray of food Frankie brought hours ago. The room was submerged in darkness, the only light filtering through the open blinds of the room. I’d been sitting in the blackness, letting it swallow me up for so long my ass had gone numb.
I closed my eyes and exhaled. I wanted to ask him to sit and eat with me, but things were very weird right now, and I knew it was me making them that way. All the things he told me earlier tonight told me I wasn’t alone in how I felt.
But I really didn’t know for certain how things would play out, and my biggest worry was Frankie getting caught in the crosshairs of my problems.
I only have myself to blame, since I came to him for help.
I rubbed my hands over my face, feeling so exhausted, but it went deeper than just being physically tired.
I looked over at the closed bedroom door. I wanted to go to him now, to slip under the sheets beside him and just curl my body against his, let his strength surround me. I wanted to feel that safety always, and I felt that when I was with Frankie. I was selfish, so selfish, because I’d come here, because I wasn’t leaving him and making sure he was safe.
So he’d left me alone, had told me he wanted to give me some time alone, that he wanted me to rest and eat. He said I was too skinny, malnourished… that he wanted to take care of me.
I couldn’t help but think that my life was such a mess, this chaos of dark situations. I had other people now in the mix, something that obviously did not sit well with me, but I couldn’t do this alone.
I stood and walked over to my bag, digging inside for the burner phone and slip of paper with Marina’s number. I hadn’t told Frankie about it, a part of me knowing that if I did, it would worry him even more. I’d seen the hard look move across his face when I told him everything about Maximillian. I felt like that was probably the hardest blow to him, him knowing I would have been married to someone else, forced or not. Frankie had been so possessive of me… and I still felt that come for him when he looked at me.
Frankie let me stay in his room, and although a part of me wished he stayed in here with me, if for anything else than for comfort, he reiterated again that he wanted me to have some space.
And I knew that was the best course of action right now. Because truthfully… if he’d stayed with me, I wouldn’t have been able to control my emotions. I would have wanted to be with him in every single way, getting lost in the feel of his hardness against my softness, of our bodies moving together as we sought release.
I’d need that so much that it would have complicated things even more.
I knew he wasn’t far, probably in the room right next door. He’d told me over and over again that he wouldn’t leave my side, that he wouldn’t let me be taken from him again.
I took the burner phone and number and went into the bathroom, turning on the light and shutting the door softly. My heart was racing as I closed the toilet lid and sat down, flipping open the phone with one hand and unfolding the tiny piece of paper with the other one.
And then I just sat there and stared at the open phone, my hands shaking and my heart racing. I was so nervous, scared of Marina answering. Terrified of her not answering.
Maybe anxiety was high in me, because this was a one-shot deal, talking to Marina. I missed her so much. Or maybe I was worried that I’d call and she wouldn’t answer, that something happened to her even though she told me she’d be fine, that she’d be safe. She knew how dangerous it had been helping me. She may have been my father’s employee, but she knew how deep the bratva ran, how long and wide their connections were.
She knew what she’d be risking, yet she helped regardless.
I tried to not let those thoughts consume me, scare me into not following through. Now was the only time to do it, the safest. And as I punched in the number and hit send, putting the phone to my ear and listening to it ring, I swore my heart stopped as I waited for someone to answer. The longer it rang, the more I started worrying my bottom lip with my teeth, this bad feeling starting to form in the pit of my stomach.
I kept chanting in my head, Please, please, please. I kept praying to whoever would listen that she’d pick up. And just as I closed my eyes, feeling emotions move through me in waves, despair and depression, a hollowness that suffocated me, someone answered.
Marina breathed out my name in relief.
A choked sob left me, and I felt the smile spread across my face. I felt such relief, so much so it was like I was seeing Frankie again for the first time.
“Marina,” her name spilled from me on this harsh whisper, and she laughed softly, not the kind that was in amusement, but the kind that was also in relief.
She started speaking quickly in Russian, telling me how worried she’d been, how she prayed every night for my safety, for me to find happiness and peace. That I’d found my way. I lo
oked at the closed bathroom door as if I could see Frankie.
I had found my happiness. I had found my way home. She just didn’t know that. No one but my father had known of the relationship I had with Frankie, and I doubted my father would have uttered anything about it to anyone. It was a dirty little secret to him.
And when she finished speaking and a moment of silence stretched out, I took a deep breath, not realizing I’d been holding it. I asked, “You’re okay though? Truly okay?” My voice was a hushed whisper, and I spoke back in our native Russian. “You didn’t get caught up in any of this? Maximillian didn’t find out you helped me?” I was rambling, worried and scared to hear her answer. I worried that if Maximillian went on a killing spree, taking out guests like they were flies at a summer picnic, he’d have no qualms about getting rid of anyone who helped the daughter of Petrov.
“I’m safe, little mouse. I’m more worried about you.” There was shuffling of papers on the other end. “You’re moving, not staying in one place too long? You have enough money, enough food?” There was this tightness in her voice that set me on edge.
“Yes, I keep moving. I’m too afraid to stay in one spot for too long. And money and food are fine.” I didn’t tell her I was stretching out the dollars because I was terrified of it running out and of not knowing what to do. I could get a job, sure. I had a new identity, but that defeated the purpose of moving for survival.
“Good, little mouse. Very good.” She sounded… off.
“Marina, what’s going on? I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”
She exhaled slowly, and there was a long pause before she started speaking again. “I don’t know much, but I’ve heard the other staff whispering, the rumors that Maximillian had gone rogue when he slaughtered everyone. Many other members in the organization followed suit. But he’s gone missing, and they are searching for him.”