Page 97 of Viper’s Reign

Hugo watches us like we’ve gone mad, before slowly backing away, muttering under his breath about how being cooped up must make people lose their marbles.

That only makes me laugh harder. By the time I finally calm down, my stomach aches, and tears are streaming down my cheeks.

“Oh my God,” I gasp, wiping at my eyes. “I really needed that.”

“Me too,” Anya says with a long exhale.

We eat our breakfast in relative silence after that, and once we’re done, Anya goes back to her scandalous book while I head upstairs to change into a bikini.

I spend the rest of the morning swimming laps—back and forth, back and forth, letting the steady rhythm empty my mind. Or at least trying to.

Dimitri said he might have Millie back by today.

Every time the thought resurfaces, my heart starts racing all over again.

Eventually, exhaustion wins. I drag myself out and collapse onto warm stone, chest heaving as I stare up at the cloudless sky.

“What’s on your mind?” Anya asks, lowering her book. “You’ve been swimming all morning.”

I open my mouth to answer just as the sound of tires on the driveway reaches me. Could it be? My heart jerks, and I jackknife to my feet. Anya glances at me in surprise, but I’m already moving—walking, then jogging, then outright running through the living room, into the foyer, and to the front door. For the first time since Dimitri brought me here, I throw it open.

Dimitri gets out of the passenger seat, one brow lifting at the sight of me in nothing but a bikini, but I only spare him a fleeting glance. My attention is fixed on the cars, waiting for other doors to open.

Please let her be here.

I hardly notice Dimitri crossing the distance between us. He says something I don’t catch as he drapes his jacket around my shoulders and eases my arms into the sleeves. I let him fuss over me without protest because Noah has climbed out of the driver’s seat, and he’s walking toward the back door.

Come on… please.

As he reaches for the handle, time seems to slow to a crawl. Somewhere in my peripheral vision, Dimitri’s men are fanning out around the driveway, but they’re little more than shadows. All I see is the woman gingerly stepping out of the back seat.

“Millie.” My voice breaks. “Millie!” I push away from Dimitri, tears spilling freely as I race on heavy legs toward my best friend. My sister.

When she sees me, her face crumbles with emotion. “Gracie.”

She starts limping toward me, and we meet halfway across the driveway, colliding in a crushing embrace. I wrap my arms around her with everything I have, holding on with a fear that letting go would make her disappear again.

“Oh my God, Millie,” I sob into her shoulder, and she clings to me fiercely, her whole body shaking as she cries.

“I’m sorry, Grace. I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you,” she sobs against my neck.

I shake my head, unable to speak through the ache in my throat. I squeeze her tighter while we sob into each other’s arms.

“Are you okay? Are you okay?” Millie’s question pierces through my pain, and I reluctantly pull back enough to look at her. The image of her tied in that chair flashes in my mind, and I see the remnants on her face. Two fading black eyes, scabs on her lips, a lighter shade of purple where the bruises are still healing. But she’s here, and she’s alive.

“Am I okay?” I ask incredulously. “I should be asking you that.”

Her lips tremble as she shakes her head. “I got us both into this mess. I deserve whatever I got. But you, you didn’t do anything, Grace.” She lifts a hand to my face, gently pushing the damp hair away from my cheek. “You didn’t deserve to get punished because of me.”

“I never thought about it as punishment,” I say fiercely, grabbing her hand and holding her gaze so she knows I mean it.

Dimitri clears his throat, and we glance back at him. For a moment, I’d forgotten where we were. Reluctantly, I let go of Millie’s hand and shuffle toward him. “Thank you,” I say softly. “Thank you so much for bringing her to me.”

He touches my face, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth with a tenderness that makes my breath catch. “Anything for you, solnyshko moyo.”

Warmth floods through me at the words, and I can only stare at him, overwhelmed by the sheer accumulation of everything I’m feeling. I reach up and pull his forehead down to mine. “Thank you,” I repeat, quieter this time, meaning it with everything I have.

Then I step away and turn back to Millie, who’s staring at us with frank, open curiosity, a thousand questions written across her still-healing face. God, I missed that face. I link my arm through hers. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”