Chapter 192

This is where I belong, even if every second makes me doubt that very idea.

When breakfast is ready, I carry two plates into the living room and hand one to Nikolas. He smiles up at me with that adorably round face and I sigh. Every now and then I forget how rewarding it is to look after someone and take care of them. Nikolas can take a lot for granted, but whenever I cook for him, his appreciation shines through. He makes it clear that he’s thankful for me.

Is this what motherhood is like?

Making breakfast every morning, spending time with your boy, and realizing how much you’d sacrifice to be with him? I see how so many women stay in unhealthy relationships. They want to look after their kids.

I don’t know if I’m cut out for this, really. If I ever found a husband and he turned out to be like Matvei, angry and bitter, I’m not sure I’d last very long. But then I look at Nikolas and watch the tiny drip of pancake syrup fall to his chin and I know that if I were a mother, I’d weather any storm to make sure he’s safe.

He’s going to grow up to be a great man, I can feel it. He has a softness to him that this harsh life his parents and uncle lived in hasn’t touched yet, and I just want to shield him from ever knowing the truth about it. I want to keep him pure and protect him no matter what.

After we finish eating and I take his plate back to the kitchen, I wash up and clean the small mess I’ve made. It’s nearly nine in the morning when I load up the dishwasher and wipe a small bead of sweat from my forehead.

The doorbell rings, and I quickly hurry to the front of the house to get it. I yank the door open without looking through the eyehole first. As soon as I see who it is, I realize that that was the stupidest thing I could have done.

“Good morning, Victoria,” Mr. Rogers says. His beard looks mussed, his eyes slitted with intensity.

“What do you want?” I ask guardedly. “In case you forgot, you tried to assault me last time you were here. I don’t think Matvei would appreciate you showing up here like this.”

He flashes his CPS badge at me and growls, “In case you forgot, I’m an employee of Child Protective Services. If you don’t let me in, I’ll have police kicking down your door and snatching Nikolas away before the hour is up. And,” he adds with a wicked grin, “we both know that Matvei isn’t home, is he?”

I freeze. How does he know Matvei’s not here? And is he really a CPS agent? I’m stiff with panic and indecision—until Rogers makes the decision for me, pushing the door open and striding inside.

It’s only when he turns around in the foyer that I see he’s holding a gun.

I swallow hard.

“Come in, Victoria,” he says softly. “Shut the door.”

I do as he says, slowly, keeping my eyes on the glistening barrel of his gun the whole time.

“Why are you here?” I croak.

He sighs and rubs at his beard. He’s so pale, deathly pale even, like he’s never been out in the sun even once.

“I’m here because I loved a woman years ago.”

He laughs when he sees my confusion and shakes his head.

“Not you. God, so egotistical! No, not you at all. Her name was Brianne.”

I’m racking my brain. Brianne, Brianne… Why does that sound so familiar?

“We met through friends many years ago,” Rogers continues. “I immediately fell in love with her from the moment I saw her. She had a way of moving through the world confidently, unlike any other woman I’d ever met.”

When he talks, his eyes look far away, like he’s imagining the very moment he first saw her. If he wasn’t so intimidating, it might actually be sweet. For me, though, I can’t help but grow more and more concerned about why he’s come here. Why is he telling me all of this?

“Our love affair was short, because as soon as we slept together, she found another man. Someone much more successful and powerful than I was back in those days. Dmitry Morozov.” He paces the foyer, drumming his fingers on the island’s countertop. I stand with my back to the front door, watching him move.

A horrible churning feeling takes up residence in my stomach. It’s like my heart is putting the awful pieces of what he’s saying together, but won’t let my brain vocalize it yet.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you two,” I say evenly. I’m treating him like I used to treat Dad when he come home especially messed-up. Don’t anger him, don’t upset him, don’t move too quick. Nice and smooth and slow.

“As am I. But it’s more than that. Things didn’t just not work out. She cut me from her life entirely, like I didn’t exist anymore. She pretended our love was nothing, and I couldn’t understand it. That is, until I saw her belly months later. She was pregnant, that much was obvious. What no one knew was that it was my child.”

My heart stops.

He’s not saying …

“Yes,” Rogers says, smiling sadly. “She was pregnant with my child, and to avoid the wrath of her powerful, mafia-connected boyfriend, she kept it a secret from him. From the world. Nobody but the two of us knew the truth. I tried convincing her to come with me. We could run away from this shitty place. We could disappear and make a life somewhere else. I called her every day, sent her letters, everything I could think of to get in contact with her. But she was afraid. She was too afraid to leave Dmitry because he was a violent man.”

I swallow hard again and keep my eyes on him.

“Dmitry brainwashed the woman I loved,” he says, bitterness in his angry voice. “He made her do things she never would, like send me messages telling me she never wanted to see me again. He must have, because the Brianne I loved would have never turned on me like that. But that’s how all of these men operate. You must know that, Victoria. These men—these criminals—don’t ever get in trouble for what they do. They can hurt and steal and threaten as much as they like, and no one ever makes them pay. Not until I came around.”

“You’re the vigilante,” I say quietly. “You’re the Justice Killer.”

A sick smile spreads across Rogers’s face. “Well done.” He sets the gun down on the entry table. I wonder if I’m fast enough to lunge forward and grab it before he can.

“Why?” I ask. “Why not let the police take care of this?”

“The police?” he laughs incredulously. “Victoria, please be rational. The police in this city are in the Morozovs’ pockets. How do you think they’ve been able to build their empire so easily? Every level of justice in this city is corrupt, and I couldn’t let them get away with it. The police were no help. The justice system is a joke. So, I decided to do things myself.”

I want to tell him how wrong he is, but I know he’s speaking the truth. The corruption in this city runs deeper than anyone could ever imagine, which is exactly why Dad didn’t want me speaking to the cops.

Rogers continues. “I thought that getting rid of Dmitry would be enough, but that’s when Matvei stepped in. That’s when he shot me.” He lifts the leg of his pants and reveals a bullet-sized wound.

He really was the one that killed Matvei’s brother.