Page 170 of The Enemy Protector
“I’ll protect you until it’s the last thing I do.”
“Thank you.”
“Sergei will be in touch,” Nelson says.
“I’ll be waiting,” Anton replies.
We leave and I feel like I'm finally taking control of my life once again.
As we reach the elevator, my phone buzzes.
I already know.
The coordinator's voice is kind and professional. She says the words carefully. I listen. I thank her. I end the call.
Nelson is watching me.
"He's gone," I say.
He nods once. He doesn't offer anything else. He knows me well enough not to.
I stand in the hallway for a moment. I wait for something to move inside me. Grief. Relief. Rage. Something.
There's just quiet. The particular quiet of a door closing that has been open your whole life.
I press my hand against my stomach.
"Let's go home," I say.
40
Sergei
The phone buzzes on my nightstand, too early to be anything good.
I’m already awake, lying there with one arm draped over Sofia, listening to her breathe. She hasn’t stirred once. For the first time in a long while, her sleep is deep and steady, no tension in her body, no sudden shifts or quiet nightmares pulling her under. The news of her father’s passing will take time to process. It’s too complicated to be easy or quick.
I smile at the thought of the new life inside her. Eight weeks. Her doctor’s appointment yesterday confirmed conception was likely our first time. It was always meant to be.
I don’t move right away. I let it buzz once, then again, watching her face for any sign of waking. Bad news is always going to be there whether I answer immediately or not.
Carefully, I slide out of bed, easing my arm from beneath her so I don’t disturb her. She shifts slightly as she settles back into sleep.
I glance at the screen. I take the call in the hallway and close the door behind me.
“Sokolov.”
“Sergei. I trust I’m not calling at a bad time.”
It’s never a good time for this kind of call.
“No,” I say. “Go ahead.”
“We’ve been following developments.”
Of course they have.
Yuri’s death didn’t stay contained. It never does when someone like him goes down.
