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Midnight Sanctuary (Bugrov Bratva #2)(12)

Author:Nicole Fox

Fuck.

Fuck.

FUCK!

“Brother.”

I come to an abrupt stop and turn to Nikolai, who’s standing in the threshold of the door. “Take a breath,” he advises.

“You take a breath. How can you be so calm?”

“Because we can’t both be a mess right now.”

I glower at him. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” he hisses. “And you need to stop being so hard on yourself. I know you feel responsible—”

“That’s because I am responsible, Nikolai. Pol and Lev, they’re my responsibilities. It was my job to keep them safe. I’m the one who exposed them to Alyssa. I’m the one who turned a blind eye when they started forming attachments with her.”

“Neither Polly nor Lev are babies anymore, Uri. You can’t control everyone all the time.”

There it is again, that word: control. Alyssa flung it at me enough times, with enough disdain, that it came to feel like a dirty word. An accusation. A curse.

“I’m not trying to control anyone; I’m trying to protect them! It’s all I’ve been trying to do for the past eight fucking years!”

Nikolai takes a deep breath. “You can’t blame the girl for this, Uri.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you suggesting I’m being too hard on her?”

He doesn’t blink or back down. “She’s been through a lot. Maybe, instead of blaming her, you should go down there and talk to her.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Listen, I’m just—”

“One minute, you’re telling me I’m too close and now, you want me to go down there and talk to her? Make your mind up, brat.”

“I get that you’re angry. And worried. I am, too. But blaming Alyssa isn’t going to change the situation. You need to talk to her. See if she can remember anything that might help us get Polly back.”

He’s making a lot of sense and it’s pissing me off. But I’m entirely too worked up right now to take his advice, good as it might be. It’s hard to accept that I’m falling to pieces. It’s harder still to accept that Nikolai is the one with a cool head on his shoulders. That maybe I might be the one who’s being unreasonable.

“You know what? You wanna waste your time talking to her—go right ahead. Me? I’ll be looking for our sister.”

Then I storm off, feeling the guilt follow me like a bad stench I can’t scrub off.

7

ALYSSA

“Are you pregnant?”

I’ve been dreading this moment since the second I was told by Uri’s stone-faced brother that a doctor was coming in to see me.

Luckily, he didn’t stick around for the entirety of the appointment. Although, if he’s anything like Uri, he’s probably lurking in the shadows on the other side of the locked basement door, waiting for Dr. Emily Popov to finish examining me.

“Please,” I say, grabbing her hand. “Please don’t tell him.”

Her eyes veer to the door. “Ma’am…”

“Him or his brother. No one. If they know, I… I just can’t deal with that right now.”

The doctor’s eyes soften with compassion. “You’ve been through a lot recently. The drugs that you were given will make your memory of the last few days patchy. Some memories might come back; some you may lose forever.”

If it weren’t for Polly, I wouldn’t mind losing the whole damn week. I swallow down the bitter taste of incoming tears. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying you need support, Alyssa. You need to be looked after. Especially if you’re pregnant.”

“Uri doesn’t want to look after me,” I whisper in a small voice. “He hates me.”

I have no idea why I’m telling the doctor all this. She’s a virtual stranger and I have no reason to trust her. Especially since Nikolai mentioned that she is the Bratva doctor. If she’s loyal to anyone, it’s them, not me. But there’s something about her dark brown eyes and soft smile that’s loosening my tongue.

It may also have something to do with the fact that she’s the first person to look at me with any kind of compassion since I was taken.

The only exception is when Uri saved me from Boris’s underground cell. For one brief, beautiful moment, he held me like I meant something to him. He kissed me like he cared. But it ended so fast that I wonder if the whole thing was a drug-fueled hallucination.

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