Gilded Cage: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 1) by Nicole Fox (best books for 20 year olds .txt) 📕

Eventually, he sighs, kisses me on the head, and turns away to make coffee.

“Are you coming into town with me today?” he asks.

I had wanted to, but I can sense that he needs some alone time to process everything we’ve just discussed. I realize I need the same, so I shake my head.

“I think I’ll just stay home and read today,” I say.

He doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods and kisses my forehead distractedly before moving towards the door.

When he’s gone, I try to read, but I can’t focus enough to get through a single page. I need something to clear my head.

Nature would be good. Wind on my cheek, mountains on the horizon—that kind of thing.

I shrug into my coat and head down the slope towards the narrower mountain trails that Artem frequently uses when he’s out hunting deer.

It’s a beautiful day. I spot a bald eagle circling high overhead. I end up following his flight path for several minutes, but I make sure to stick to the trail so that I’ll be able to find my way back home when I want to.

Once the trail tapers off and slopes downwards towards the ravine, I stop walking and find a smooth boulder to rest on for a little while.

I pull out the bottle of water I’ve brought with me and take a long swig.

This place is truly beautiful. The kind of paradise I always dreamed of but never thought I’d find.

“Isn’t that right?” I whisper to my belly.

I started doing this about two nights ago when I first felt a fluttering at the corner of my swollen stomach.

It was so slight that at first, I thought I was imagining things. But when it happened the second time, I knew for sure it was him. My child, moving around inside me, reminding me that in a few months we’d be meeting face to face for the first time.

Above me, I catch sight of the eagle again. He’s circling around and it seems like he’s only inches below the clouds.

“Maybe after you’re born, I’ll bring you right here and we can watch the eagles together,” I say, rubbing my hands back and forth along my stomach. “And when you’re older, I’ll explain how your father and I planned our future together. How this was the place where we realized that our love for you, for each other, trumped everything else.”

I felt another flutter, stronger this time. Tears spring to my eyes.

It’s almost like he’s answering back.

More flutters continue, like morse code coming from the inside of my belly.

I press my palm down against the rippling. “I’m here, little bird,” I murmur automatically.

The fluttering eases and disappears.

“Little bird,” I say again, testing the words out loud. I look out into the oncoming wind. “Cesar used to call me that.”

It’s been weeks now since I learned the truth about Cesar and his connection to Artem.

And it’s been almost as long since I’ve thought about him in any real sense.

In all honesty, I’ve pushed him to the furthest recesses of my mind until I feel strong enough to process his part in Artem’s tragedy.

I hate knowing what Cesar did.

I hate that he’d even been capable of doing something so horrific to an innocent woman.

It burns like hellfire to realize how much he kept from me.

He didn’t want his sins to taint you, whispers some unseen voice in my heart. He didn’t want you to think less of him.

I sigh deeply. There was so much I didn’t understand back then.

Things are clearer now, and yet I’m still confused. Maybe more confused than ever.

The eagle lets out a high piping sound that catches my attention. He swoops lower. When he does, I notice that there are a few more birds flying in the huge expanse before me, squawking obnoxiously.

Ugly birds. Buzzards, I think.

It’s not exactly the peace and quiet I’m looking for, so I get up and start the walk back to the cabin.

As I follow the trail back home, I notice the screeches get louder and more exuberant. The birds are flying low down the ravine, their wings leaving small ripples in the river.

Is something going on down there?

Gripping one of the trees close to the edge of the trail, I inch closer until I can look right down to the bottom.

On top of a pile of boulders, I see motion.

At first, all I make out is a mess of wings and snapping beaks.

Then I see a carcass amongst streaks of blood, and it makes sense. Some poor animal has died down there.

The birds are just fighting over lunch.

Could it possibly be Artem’s stag, the one that got away?

I grip the tree a little tighter and lean in a little further so I can get a better look. I want to be able to tell Artem that I saw his stag.

But then something on the carcass gets caught on the breeze and wafted up past me.

It’s a piece of a torn t-shirt.

Something thuds uncomfortably in my chest.

Stags don’t wear clothes.

The ridiculous thought slips into my consciousness. I freeze, as a painful streak of realization hits me full in the face.

That’s not a stag the birds are feasting on.

It’s a human being.

I force myself to glance down one more time.

This time, I see the rotting flesh of what is unmistakably a human arm.

My stomach twists with nausea. I swallow back the bile as my mind races, trying to remember if I’d heard any gossip of a hiker or hikers who’d gone missing on this side of the mountains.

No, I’m pretty sure there haven’t been any incidents since Artem and I moved up into the cabin.

And then I feel another painful pinch in my heart as a memory from three nights ago resurfaces.

“Tell me again how this stag managed to get away from you.” I laugh. “Little deer outwits a big bad Bratva boss?”

Artem groans. “It’s honestly not worth telling,” he demurs. “It’s actually a really embarrassing story. One I don’t mind forgetting.”

“I just