The Mask I Wear

by Samwysesr

When an unexpected invitation to Court takes Viktoria Belikova completely by surprise, she is determined to have the time of her life and make it a memorable event. What she doesn't plan on is meeting a certain green eyed Moroi who is trying to get over a broken heart—one who will change her life forever. {Later chapters rated M} {This is NOT a Sydrian friendly story.}

9. Ch 9: Sweet Confusion, Sweet Illusion

Dear Diary,

I've often wondered what it would be like to wake up in the arms of a lover; I suppose it's something that most girls do, the same way they daydream about a special occasion or what their future children might look like. Every time I thought about the scenario it was different; sometimes it was a lazy morning of cuddling and kissing, the two of us wrapped up in a little cocoon of togetherness—or a slow sleepy lovemaking session before we climbed out of bed. One thing I can say with complete certainty—I never once imagined being rudely disturbed by someone knocking at the door… but unfortunately, that… is what happened.

The sound made me mumble sleepily, cursing in Russian as I burrowed closer to the warm body next to me; I shifted, moving my leg—which was thrown across his hip. The result of my movement woke me up immediately—not an easy task, since I'm not a morning person.

Adrian moaned, burying his face in my neck, his hips rocking forward as he twitched inside of me—which would have been a wonderful thing to wake up to, had someone not been determinedly pounding on his door.

"What time is it?" His voice was muffled, lips tickling against my skin.

"I don't know… I'm afraid to move again," I murmured, my cheeks flushing at the admission.

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss against my neck before turning his head towards his nightstand. "Oh… well shit."

"Let me guess…you set it wrong?" At the moment, I didn't particularly care; I was too busy nuzzling along his chest, wondering if I could convince him to ignore whoever was at the door.

"Yeah… but we forgot something."

I propped myself up—whimpering a little when the movement made him harden even more inside of me—to see what he was staring at. The condom Abe had given me—still unopened. "Oh. Shit."

"Mhmm. Unless we want to tempt fate… I think I better…" he moved, sliding out of me—making us both groan.

I felt the loss of him like I would have if one of my own limbs had been taken; it left me feeling empty, like I was missing a major part of myself. "You don't think…"

"It's been known to happen…" he stared at me a minute, his eyes going slightly out of focus. "Your aura looks the same—usually if a woman is pregnant… it shows. We'll just have to be more careful from now on."

The implication that we would be repeating last night's performance made me smile—but it turned into a scowl when the knocking began again. "Maybe you should get that."

"Don't know who in the hell it is… no one ever comes here uninvited." He sat up, reaching down to grab his discarded dress slacks and shimmy into them.

"Except me," I said softly, teasing him.

"You don't count—you have an open invitation, Angel." He ducked his head down to press a gentle kiss against my lips, then turned, walking out of the room, shirtless.

I flopped back on the bed, smiling as I stretched. My brother's warnings had been wrong, Adrian wasn't—

I froze, staring up at the ceiling. My brother. We'd slept late… and Dimitri had probably discovered I was missing. I practically jumped out of bed, grabbing his shirt and wrapping it around myself as I hurried after him—the the threat my brother had made when he'd carried me across court was echoing through my head. "Dusha! Wait—"

Too late—he was opening the door. I hid myself away behind the doorway, listening; if it was Dimitri and things got heated, I would intervene.

"Good morning my boy—did I wake you? So sorry, but I need to speak with Miss Belikova."

I groaned, closing my eyes and lightly banging my head against the wall. What in the hell was Abe Mazur doing here so early in the day?

"Sorry to disappoint you old man—I haven't seen her since her brother went caveman and carried her away last night." Had it been anyone but Abe, the lie would have sounded like the pure, unmitigated truth.

"Now, now… I thought we were friends, Adrian. Friends don't lie to each other."

"Why would I lie about something like that? I—"

When he made a sound of protest, I peeked around the doorframe, watching as the older Moroi pushed past Adrian, walking into the room. He bent down, scooping up the t-shirt I had dropped, studying it intently.

"I don't know… you tell me. If she isn't here, is she running around Court topless?"

"What makes you think that's not mine?"

Abe gave him a pointed look. " Pink isn't really your color, son... and I don't think I've ever seen you wear anything that proclaimed you were..." he examined the shirt, giving a snort of amusement, 'a juicy girl'."

Adrian's eyes darted towards the bedroom, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a secretive grin when his eyes met mine; something about that smile told me he was thinking about what we'd done—and sure enough, the tip of his tongue snaked out, swiping along his lips.

Abe noticed. "Viktoria Belikova… come out come out wherever you are—we need to talk."

I groaned again, wrapping the shirt more firmly around me, then stepped out of my hiding place. My face was hot, letting me know I was probably flushed bright red as I hovered in the doorway. "Good morning, Mr. Mazur."

"I must say, for a teenage girl, your skills at being sneaky are seriously lacking." He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, setting it on the coffee table. " If I'm going to cover for you, I need to be able to reach you. Keep that with you at all times—and answer it when I call. No matter what you might be in the middle of—understand?"

"Since you knew she was here, you could have just called me," Adrian pointed out, plopping down on the couch and reaching for his cigarettes. He lit one, then patted the couch beside him, holding out his hand.

I moved to sit next to him, avoiding Abe's eyes; I didn't regret what I'd done, but a part of me was afraid I would see some sort of judgment in them.

"I tried calling here. Six times. You didn't answer."

"Huh. Ringer must be turned off." Adrian said, grinning.

"We planned to get up early," I mumbled, "the alarm didn't go off."

"Be that as it may, your brother showed up at your apartment an hour ago looking for you."

I panicked, my eyes darting up to meet Abe's. "Does he know? That I'm not there?"

"Yes, but don't worry—unlike you, Pavel is an expert at hiding things. You left early to run errands for me—wanting to work of the cost of the dress I bought you. Your brother was apparently quite impressed at that, though he wasn't too pleased about you being my errand girl." Abe smirked when I sighed with relief.

"I don't get it… why are you helping her?" Adrian's arm slid around my shoulders, pulling me closer.

"So I'll be in his debt, " I muttered darkly, leaning forward to pick up the phone to examine it. "Isn't that right, Mr. Mazur?"

"If I have to tell you to call me Abe again, Viktoria, I'm going to get angry—and you're wrong. This has nothing to do with racking up favors—and everything to do about righting past wrongs." He glanced over at Adrian, arching one of his eyebrows. "Unless you don't want my help? I could just escort her back to her apartment and leave you two to try and figure things out on your own. Of course, considering how lousy she is at covering her tracks, you'll probably end up get caught as soon as she opens her mouth."

"I see. You feel responsible for… what someone else did." A look of understanding flashed across Adrian's face. "You shouldn't though. You didn't have anything to do with it."

"Didn't I? Who came up with the brilliant plan to send—"

"It doesn't matter." Adrian cut him off, his eyes darting over to me. "Even if you don't help, I'm not going to stop seeing her. If Belikov doesn't like it he can—"

"Noble sentiment, but somehow I don't think having her brother tear you limb from limb is exactly conducive to romance, son." Abe chuckled, walking over to the table in front of the window; he picked up the photograph of Queen Tatiana, studying it with a sad smile on his face. "She was one hell of a woman, wasn't she?"

"She was… but somehow I don't think you mean it in quite the same way I do," Adrian said wryly.

"What am I supposed to be doing for you today?" I put my hand on Adrian's knee, trying to steer the conversation back to something other than Abe's disastrous love affair with the former Queen.

"Picking up my dry cleaning. Doing my grocery shopping. Little tasks that I don't have time to waste doing. Nothing difficult." He set the picture down, glancing at his watch. "Dimitri expects you to meet your family for lunch at the café in two hours—I suggest you don't be late. I think he wants to make sure I'm not working you too hard."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your covering for me." I mentally calculated how long it would take me to run home and shower. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Don't lie too elaborately. The trick is keeping things simple. That's all there is to it, really. Call me when you're done and fill me in on what you said so our stories match."

As he turned towards the door, Adrian pulled away from me, standing up to hold out his hand. "Thanks for bringing her here."

"I don't have to ask if it was worth it," Abe's eyes darted from Adrian to me, then back again. "I can see for myself that you seem… better."

"Now that you mention it… I am. Haven't even had a drink today—of course there's still time… I've only been up ten minutes. Hang on—I'll walk you out." Adrian smiled at me, then escorted him out into the hall.

I could hear them murmuring quietly as I scooped up my t-shirt from the coffee table where Abe had dropped it, but I didn't stick around to listen. Hurrying back into the bedroom to collect the rest of my clothing, a giggle escaped me at the sight of my panties—they were a lost cause, torn to smithereens. I'd have to do without them. I'd pulled my jeans on and had just fastened my bra when his arm slid around me, dragging me back against his chest.

"I don't want you to leave me." It was a whisper, his lips traveling along my shoulder.

"I don't want to go, but I have to. Otherwise—"

"I know." He gently nipped at my skin. "I could come along… if you want me to."

"I wish you could, but I don't think that's smart, do you? Since we're not supposed to be seeing each other."

"Trust me—they won't know it's me."

"What do you mean?" I frowned, turning around to face him.

"Let me borrow this?" He opened his other hand, holding out the necklace and ring I'd slipped on the night before—it must have come off when he'd slid my shirt over my head and I hadn't even noticed.

"What, we pretend we ran off and got married? Somehow I don't think that will calm my brother down."

He chuckled softly, sliding the ring off the necklace, "Not a bad plan, but I was thinking of something a little more practical. I said they wouldn't know it was me, remember?"

He handed me the necklace, then closed his hand around the ring. A moment later I gasped—he was pulling on his element, but it didn't feel the same way it did when Lissa used it. My skin didn't crawl like I was being swarmed by tiny insects and I didn't feel the heavy, almost drowning sensation in the air—instead it was warm and comforting, dancing along my skin the way his lips had, leaving me tingling all over.

"There." He slid the silver band on the ring finger of his right hand; I tried to ignore the way my heart surged at the sight—as well as the tiny prickle I felt in the back of my brain. He was American, unfamiliar with the customs of my homeland—he had no way of knowing that for us, the right hand was where we wore wedding bands.

"Well, what do you think?"

I tore my eyes away from his hand, confused as to what he meant. "Um… it fits?"

"I meant about how I looked, Angel." He chuckled, both arms sliding around me, pulling me close. "Still want to kiss me, even if I look like a dhampir?"

"Dusha… I still very much want to kiss you—I think nothing could change that. But… I do not know how to tell you this—you could never pass for a dhampir. Your fangs give you away. Not to mention you are a little too pale—we do spend some of our training time outdoors."

He frowned, pulling back to stare down at me. "I look the same?"

"Were you supposed to look different?"

"Well… yeah." He eyed the ring, shaking his head. "It worked… I can feel it. Hang on." He went over to the closet and pulled out a shirt, sliding his arms into it and buttoning it up as he walked. "No offense, but I think I need a second opinion."

"A second opinion on what? That you look like yourself? That makes no sense!" I followed after him, pulling on my own t-shirt as he jerked open the front door. I watched him, wondering what he was up to as he walked across the hall to knock on his neighbors door.

A Moroi woman in her late forties answered, giving us both a polite smile. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am—we need to speak with Lord Ivashkov." He was putting on some kind of accent I didn't recognize—as if that would fool her. "Is he in?"

"No—you have the wrong apartment. He lives across the hall… but he's probably not awake yet. He drinks quite a bit." Her eyes trailed over him—and I didn't like the look of appreciation in them one little bit. "Are you new here Guardian….?"

"Johnson, ma'am." He smiled. "Yes, I am. Just transferred in. Sorry we bothered you."

"Oh it's no bother at all. If you're looking for a charge, I'd be more than happy to—"

"I'm not—I work for Abe Mazur. But thank you." He cut her off, turning away.

She made a dismissive little sniff, eyeing his backside. "Well… if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

I glared daggers at her as she shut the door, ignoring Adrian's soft chuckle. I still didn't understand what was going on, but my irritation at her boldness overrode my confusion. "What was that all about? Does she not know you?"

"She does. In fact, she's bitched me out for being too noisy more times than I can count. Which means... that for some reason…you're not seeing the same thing she is." He steered me back into the apartment, unbuckling his slacks. "I need jeans… Abe's guys don't wear uniforms."

"What is she seeing that I'm not?"

"I look like a dhampir. I used Spirit to change my appearance. It's an illusion—one that'll last as long as I have the ring on. It'll have to be recharged in a day or two, of course."

"Spirit can do that?"

He headed for his bedroom, calling out over his shoulder as he walked "Mhmm. But what I don't understand is—"

"Why I still see you." I smiled, already knowing the answer. "Because my gift makes me immune to Spirit illusions. Compulsion too."

"Bullshit."

"No—it's true. I usually have to pretend it works, just so people don't know."

"Why bother?" He reappeared, my socks and sneakers in hand. He'd changed into a pair of faded jeans; I raised my eyebrows and eyed him—they looked extremely good on him.

"Because I don't want people to know I'm different." I shrugged. " I see how they act towards my grandmother… I don't want that."

"She has visions too?

"Yes. She used to make her living reading cards and stuff—when she left the Guardians." I sank down on the couch, pulling my socks on. I still needed a shower, but knew that realistically it would take far too much time for me to dry my hair. Since I'd supposedly been working for Abe all morning, there was no believable reason that I could give to explain showing up to lunch with wet head. "She's the one who made Abe come help me last night—she sensed I was sneaking out."

"I'm surprised you managed to get by your brother. How'd you do it… if you don't mind my asking…" He sat down beside me, lighting another cigarette.

"He wasn't there… but I thought he might come back. So I jumped out the window—there was a tree nearby." He made a strange sound and I looked over at him, wondering why. "What?"

"What floor is your apartment on?"

"The fifth. I—"

He grabbed my hand, squeezing it. "Don't ever do that again, okay? You could have gotten hurt."

I searched his face, smiling softly at the intensity in his eyes. He was worried… about me. "I had no choice… I had to be with you."

"Well next time call me and we'll try to figure out another way that doesn't involve risking a five story fall." He released my hand and picked up the phone Abe had given me, fiddling with the screen. "How do you spell 'Dusha'?"

I spelled it for him, feeling a rush of emotion as I watched him. As he concentrated on programing in the information, he worried his lower lip with the tip of his fang—something I found incredibly endearing and sweet. "I wonder… if I snap your picture… would it capture the illusion?"

"Probably not. I'm good, but not that good." He glanced over at me, and smiled. "Why?"

"Because it might be wise for me to know what everyone else is seeing."

"Good point. I'll sketch it out for you later."

I almost asked if that would really help—but I held my tongue, not wanting to hurt his feelings; I couldn't imagine how a rough drawing would show me what others might see—especially since anything I sketched always ended up looking like a child had done it. "For the record, you are better than good…. I think you are pretty great. Last night was… amazing." I blushed, ducking my head down to hide behind my hair. For all my boldness in other areas, talking about what we had shared was completely unchartered territory.

He leaned over, brushing my hair back, then gently turned my face so he could look me in the eye. "I think you're pretty great too."

His mouth found mine, soft and teasing—then deeper, like the kisses the night before. Hungry and needy, as if we were both starving and could somehow only gain the sustenance we needed from the joining of our lips. Before I knew it we were stretched out on the couch; his hands roamed across my body as I tightened my legs around his waist.

"This isn't exactly the state we should be in when we meet up with my family," I murmured, my words muffled against his lips. It was the truth—but it probably would have been more effective if my hips were not rocking up against his as I said it.

He groaned, pulling his mouth from mine and burying his face in my neck. "I don't suppose you could convince them that you're too busy to eat?"

"If I tried they would probably insist on bringing me something." My hands slid up his back, tangling in his hair. "I don't want to go… but after last night… my brother might get suspicious. I'm sure Mama probably already told him that I didn't eat very much yesterday—I wanted to make sure my dress fit."

"Trust me—the dress fit. God… did it ever fit. In all the right places." He bumped his hips against mine teasingly. "See? Just thinking about it affects me."

I laughed, pushing him off me so I could sit up and smooth down my rumpled hair. "It only fit because I had something on underneath it to make me slimmer… sort of like a girdle… but not a girdle, if that makes sense. I think they call it a… minimizer? Dresses made for Moroi women don't seem to leave much room for dhampir curves."

"Personally, I'll take the curves over a stick thin body any day of the week—hands down." He trailed his fingertips down my arm, smiling. "Stop fussing with your hair—it looks great."

"I just don't want to look like I've been having a good time." I winked at him, standing up and stretching. "I am not looking forward to facing Roza after last night. She is probably expecting an apology and I am not about to…" My voice trailed off at the look on his face; there was such a mixture of emotions playing across it that I couldn't decipher them—none except the anger that was shining in his eyes. "Dusha… are you alright?"

"Since you're going to be dealing with Rose Hathaway for the rest of your life, you better learn fast that she's never wrong. Not in her eyes at least." His voice was just as sharp and angry as his eyes.

"So… you don't like her either? It's not just my brother you have a problem with?"

"We used to be friends…I'm the one that paid for her little excursion to Russia. She drained my trust fund—and treated me like shit afterwards. I suppose you could say I dislike her quite a bit.. If my Aunt Tatiana hadn't left me a little something in her will I'd probably be living under a bridge right now, sleeping on a cardboard box." He stood up, reaching for my hand, then hesitated, letting his hand drop to his side. "Sorry—I shouldn't have said that. Like I said… she's a part of your life. You don't need me talking shit about her."

"That's what Abe meant, isn't it…. About righting past wrongs?"

"Mhmm. You could say that." He stared down at the floor, not meeting my eyes.

I reached over and laced my fingers through his, squeezing his hand. "It's alright Dusha… I have my own issues with her. It's not just last night… it is a lot of different things. So how about this—you keep me from attacking her and I will do the same for you?"

He was silent for a minute, then chuckled softly. "You've got a deal—but if you dive across the table after her… I can't make any promises. I need to refill my bank account so I'll probably start taking bets on who'd win the fight."

"Ah… I see. But the question is—who would you bet on?" I gave him a teasing smile, stretching up to kiss his cheek.

He looked up at me, not answering for a minute, then returned my smile. "I like a sure thing Angel—I saw you pin her last night. My money would be on you."

"Good answer." I pulled my hair back, tying it in a loose knot at the base of my neck while he locked up his apartment; it was an attempt to distract myself from thinking about things too deeply. He had said the right thing, but I couldn't help but wonder why a flicker of pain had crossed his handsome face right before he'd answered.

The lunch rush was over by the time we got to the café; my family was gathered around the same large patio table that Mama and Yeva had shared with Roza and Lissa once before. Only one empty chair remained—right next to my brother; Adrian politely pulled it out for me to sit, then pulled up another chair from a nearby table, squeezing in on my other side, right next to my grandmother.

"I am sorry to be late—Mr. Mazur certainly has a lot to keep me busy." I glanced around the table with an apologetic smile on my face—but no one was looking at me.

"Manners Vika… introduce us to your friend please." Mama's reproach was soft, her hand going out to shake Adrian's. "I am Viktoria's mother, Olena."

"This is Guardian Johnson. He has been kind enough to escort me today so I wouldn't get lost."

"What a thoughtful gentleman you are." Mama's smile widened as she released his hand.

"I do not remember any new guardians on the roster." Dimitri held out his hand the same way mama had; after a moment's hesitation, Adrian took it, giving it a quick shake. " I am Dimitri, Vika's brother."

"I'm not a staff guardian—in fact… I'm technically not a guardian at all. I work for Abe—but Ms. Belikova didn't feel comfortable calling me by my first name." Adrian leaned back, resting his arm along the back of my chair—a gesture that my brother caught, making him narrow his eyes.

"Vik, that's stupid—if you're both working for my father you might as well call him by his name. Hell, I'm surprised Abe hasn't already jumped your ass about the 'Mr. Mazur' thing." Roza smiled at Adrian, holding out her hand—but he'd averted his eyes, pretending not to see it. She covered her movement by reaching for her coke with her hand—perhaps embarrassed at being left with it hovering over the table. "So what is your name—or do you just want us to call you Johnson?"

"You can call me by my first name—it's Nathan."

She flinched; the glass slid from her hand, soda going everywhere. "God I'm sorry. I'm such a klutz sometimes…"

My brother's arm slid around her as she tried to mop up the mess, his head dropping down to press a kiss against her forehead. "Shhh…. It is alright moya lyubov'. It is just a name."

"I'm sorry—I didn't realize my name was so upsetting. Should I be offended or is there something I'm missing?"

"It is nothing. No offense was meant." Dimitri sounded distracted, too busy trying to calm the woman beside him to pay attention to the rest of us—with good reason. Roza had paled and when she set her glass upright, dropping the spilled ice inside it, I noticed her hand was trembling.

"Roza… what is it?"

She didn't answer me, just shook her head, leaning into my brother.

"That was the name of the one who… turned me. She saw it him attack me… he attacked her in Russia as well. Bad memories. That is all." He scooted closer to her, so close she was almost in his lap, stroking her hair as he whispered soft things to her in Russian.

Adrian tensed beside me. "Sorry about that—I had no way of knowing."

"I'm going to go to the ladies room… I'll be right back." She stood up, almost swaying on her feet before she righted herself, hurrying away from the table.

"Dimitri, you should—"

"No—he cannot go into the ladies room. Viktoria will go make sure she is alright." My grandmother's face was expressionless as she looked at me, waiting for me to move.

I stared back, not wanting to leave, disturbed by the thought of leaving Adrian alone at the table with them. "Maybe she wants to be alone and that is why she excused herself."

"You will go granddaughter. We will get to know your friend." Her eyes fell down to the ring on his finger, her lips curving up in a smile. "Are you married, Guardian Johnson?"

I winced as I stood up, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at her obvious, probing question. As I moved from the table, I brushed my hand against his as discreetly as I could. "I will be right back."

"Take your time—I'll be fine. No, I'm not Ms. Belikova—never even come close."

I glared at my grandmother before I headed inside, relieved to hear my mother turning the conversation to a less personal topic. Roza was standing at the sink, splashing cold water on her face when I entered the ladies room. She gave me a halfhearted smile when I jerked a paper towel out of the dispenser and offered it to her.

"Thanks. Sorry about that—I hope I didn't embarrass you… it just hit me hard. It's like that sometimes… the memories sort of overwhelm me." She dried off her face, chunking the towel in the trash.

"I am sorry you were upset… he did not know."

" I know he didn't, how could he?" She leaned back against the counter, closing her eyes.. "I keep thinking that it'll get better as more time passes—that little things like that will quit bothering me… but it seems like the exact opposite is true. Deep down I'm terrified that something will take him away again—only this time there won't be a second chance."

"He's not going anywhere Roza." I moved over to lean against the counter next to her, studying the tiles underneath our feet. She seemed to harbor no grudge about what had happened the night before—but I still did.

"That's the same thing he keeps telling me… I still can't help but worry, you know?" She sighed, and for a few minutes, neither of us spoke. I was about to suggest we rejoin the others when she bumped me with her shoulder. "Distract me."

"And how am I supposed to do that? Perform a backflip? It's a little too small in here for that."

"Help me get my mind off that night." She smiled, but it was still a little shaky. "Tell me about the hunk."

"Huh?"

"Your new friend—don't tell me you haven't noticed he's hot."

Heat flooded my cheeks. "Nothing to tell—he's just making sure I don't get lost."

"Uh huh. Suuuuure he is. That's why he's sitting so close to you, right?"

"In case you didn't notice, the table is crowded."

"Not that crowded. Come on—admit it. He's cute. I know you usually go for Moroi guys but—"

"I do not usually go for Moroi boys. Rolan was the first one I ever went out with," I said, scowling at her.

"Well excuse me—last night you seemed pretty into that kiss and it happened to have been a Moroi you were lip locked with. I thought—"

"You thought wrong. How attracted I am to someone has nothing to do with whether they're a dhampir or a Moroi—and everything to do about their personality."

She laughed. "Yeah right. You said like what… four words to Adrian before you let him—"

"In case I didn't make myself clear last night—what happened is none of your business." I struggled to keep my composure, on the verge of snapping.

"And like I said last night—yeah. It is." She glared at me, all traces of frailty vanishing in the wake of her own temper. "And why the hell does your hair smell like cigarette smoke?"

"I had to pick up a package for your father—it wasn't quite ready and the man was smoking. I had to wait for it."

"Bullshit—that smells like cloves—and there's only one person around here that smokes them. Don't lie to me!"

"I hope you are sufficiently distracted—because this conversation is over." I slammed open the bathroom door so hard that it smacked into the wall leaving a dent.

"That's what you think—just wait until Olena hears about the kind of man he is," she muttered under her breath.

I spun around, almost bumping into her. "You leave my mother out of this! I am capable of making my own decisions—just as capable as you were at my age. So butt the hell out!"

"Roza—Vika… what's going on?"

We both turned to glare at my brother, who took an immediate step back, holding up his hands, his lips twitching up at the corners. "I come in peace—there is no need for either of you to be giving me such evil faces. I wanted to see if you were alright."

"I'm fine. She's the one with a problem." Roza gave me a look, moving over to wrap her arms around his waist.

"Vika… what's wrong?"

"She started in about last night and I refuse to hear it. You may have to put up with her bitchy, bossy ways, but I do not." I crossed my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Vika—"

"No—I am not asking you to take sides or chose between us, but as my brother I expect you to tell her to leave me alone."

"Roza—please… for me. Leave it alone for now. Later we will all sit down and discuss it." He rested his forehead against hers—something I normally would have found adorably cute, but I was so angry it just served to further my irritation.

"Fine. For now. But she smells like—"

"No buts! Keep your big nose out of my life. I can guarantee you if you don't—you will regret it."

"Are you… threatening me?" She gave me a patronizing smile, like I was the foolish one.

"No—I am warning you. I don't want to involve my mother in the problem between you and I Roza because she loves you like a daughter. Yeva on the other hand, will side with me."

Dimitri frowned at the thought. "I think it best if we do not get her mixed up in these squabbles. We will work it out on our own. And as much as I am terrified at the thought of leaving you two alone… Christian called and needs me to take him into town. Will you be alright? If you need me to stay I will… I told him what happened… he will understand."

"I'm fine. Go." She looked up at him, smiling sadly; there was obvious doubt in his eyes—and his expression was completely torn. Seeing it made me glad I would never be forced to choose between someone I loved and a duty I'd sworn to serve. "They come first… remember? Besides if you don't take him he's stupid enough to go on his own."

"I will leave you to say your goodbyes. Be safe, Mitya." I turned to walk away, ignoring him when he called after me. I didn't want to witness their kisses and cuddles when they were determined to begrudge me from having my own.

I did not mask my mood as well as I thought—not even the smile Adrian gave me as I sat could pull me out of my anger. Mama took one look at my face and asked me what was wrong—but I just shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. She repeated the question to Roza when she returned a few minutes later; despite the look of warning I shot her, she opened her great big mouth.

"We had a little disagreement in the ladies room—about last night."

Adrian's hand dropped to my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. I glanced over at him, trying to smile, but it was impossible to do when Roza was sitting across from me looking so damned smug. She knew my mother would fret about our fighting and ask questions—ones that would enable her to talk about the incident without breaking her promise to Dimitri.

Yeva looked from me to Roza, then sat up a little straighter, toying with her silverware. "It was most appalling, I think. To behave in such a manner in public."

Roza shot me a triumphant look that made me want to smack her. "That's what I was trying to tell her—that letting someone like Adrian kiss her was bad for her reputation."

Adrian tensed beside me, his hand dropping down to pat at the pockets of his jeans; almost instinctively I knew what he was looking for—so I reached down, stilling his hand with mine. He couldn't smoke—not here, in front of her—it might betray who he was; not many dhampirs smoked, but I was willing to bet that those who did avoided his fancy brand of cigarettes. He glanced over at me and I discreetly shook my head, eyes flicking over to Roza. Sighing he slid his arm back around my chair, nervous fingers playing with a strand of my hair that had escaped my messy bun.

I wasn't talking about Viktoria," Yeva said, narrowing her eyes, "But rather the scene you and Dimitri made by drawing attention to the situation."

"I told her she… wait…what ? Us? She's the one who was playing tonsil hockey with the court gigolo!"

"That attractive young man accepts money for… favors?" Mama looked scandalized at the very thought.

"What? No… not money—he just sleeps around. A lot. With a bunch of different women."

"I think perhaps you should refrain from using words you don't understand, Roza. English is not even my mother tongue, but even I know what that word means." I scowled at her, trying to ignore Adrian's soft chuckle—elbowing him in the ribs to silence him.

"Fine. He's a male slut—or whatever you want to call it. One who is always drunk and chain smokes and has a victim complex!" She glared at me, then turned to my mother, trying to win her to her side. "We were trying to help her avoid getting hurt—Adrian doesn't like Dimitri… or me… and the truth is he probably only kissed her to piss Dimitri off in hopes of starting a fight. Or in some pathetic attempt to make me—"

"Assumption. My granddaughter is a very beautiful girl—even if she can't see it herself. Is it so hard to believe that a handsome young man might want to kiss her simply for that reason alone?" Yeva cut her off, turning to Adrian, smiling. " Guardian Johnson… you are a man. Is my theory so far-fetched?"

He'd grown even more tense beside me, even his restless fingers stilling their movement. "Not at all. I would kiss her myself if I wasn't afraid her giant brother might punch me."

Roza frowned. "That's beside the point—you don't know the whole story! Adrian used to be my—"

"Friend. And yet you sit here spewing trash about him—even after he gave you the money to hunt down my brother!" I slammed my fist on the table—on the verge of slapping her. Only Adrian's arm tightening around my shoulder stopped me from jumping to my feet.

"I'm just trying to protect you for God's sakes! And you're acting like… wait a minute… how do you know about that?" Roza narrowed her eyes, leaning across the table. "Nobody knows that except a few people."

"Your father knows everything, or do you forget that he has spies everywhere?" I covered as best I could, realizing my mistake too late. "I asked him about Adrian but all that he would say was that you used to be close friends and he loaned you the money to come to Russia."

"Enough! Both of you be quiet! You are giving me a headache with your bickering!" Yeva glared at both of us, reaching for her cane. "You will both sit there and be quiet and listen to me. I have heard enough slander for one day—is that not what it is called here, when you make negative comments against someone behind their back?"

Roza slouched down in her chair, frowning. "I just—"

"I said to be quiet Roza! It was a hypothetical question! So this young man has made a few mistakes—who at this table hasn't? Vika was foolish and naive with that boy back home…Olena stayed with a man that abused her and harmed her children. And you and I? We have killed in cold blood. Which sin is greater—the one you and I committed or this young man's?"

Mama's eyes dropped to the table; from where I was I could see a single tear sliding down her cheek. It made my heart hurt but I dared not go to her; if I did I would be close enough to strangle Roza—which I desperately wanted to do. Even so, when my brother's girlfriend flicked her eyes over at me, and I saw the question in them, I shook my head so that she would know I hadn't betrayed the secret she had shared.

"If we judge people by their past actions alone then why would they bother to change them? If the past haunts every moment of a life there is no room to learn or grow. You… you of all people should know that. Do you judge my grandson for the things he did—or realize there was a reason for them?"

"That's completely different! Dimitri had no choice—he was changed against his will! He never would have done those things if he'd been himself and damn you for mentioning it old woman!" Roza sat up, her eyes full of fury; as much as I disliked her for the things she had said, I was glad that my brother had someone like her—someone who was willing to face anything or anyone on his behalf.

"When I saw that young man kiss my kotyonok last night, I took the time to learn about him. My wise friends Rhonda and Ambrose and I spoke in great detail about these things." Grandmother's eyes were locked with Roza's, so intense that it seemed as though she did not even blink. "Lord Ivashkov has his reasons too—in a way he has no more choice than my Dimka did. He is sick in his heart and in his head."

"Oh that's a load of shit! He's had plenty of opportunities to—"

"Interrupting one my age is beyond rude, Roza—and if it happens again I will use my cane on your knuckles to remind you." A snort of amusement escaped Adrian at her threat, drawing her eyes his way. "That goes for you too, young man."

"Sorry… something in my throat." His hand was trembling as he reached for his water glass; the sight made my anger at Roza flare up even more. I shifted so my leg pressed against his, trying to comfort him in any way I could.

"This young man—he is like Vasilisa, is he not? Touched by Spirit? It strongly affects him—correct?"

Roza rolled her eyes. "Yeah but Lissa manages to refrain from drinking and smoking and screwing half the population—so he could too, if he tried."

Adrian's hand dropped down to his lap; a moment later he reached over, lacing his fingers through mine; I squeezed it gently, hoping he knew that I didn't care what was said.

"People have different ways of coping, do they not? Olena cooks. Dimka reads. You… hit things. Outlets to relieve the stress that builds up in us all. Ambrose told me of a time when it affected the young queen much as it does Lord Ivashkov—she did things that were contrary to the person she was inside. He mentioned a party with drunken cavorting—kissing a young man that was not the one she'd committed to. But you do not judge her for that… why?"

"Because that was my fault! I wasn't there to take the darkness from her—I tried to take as much as I could through the bond while I was in Russia… but it wasn't enough!"

"Does he have someone to share his burden? To take the darkness he builds up? Think about that, Roza. And think about this… some of that darkness is your fault too."

Silence fell around the table; Roza's dark, angry eyes fell to her plate—but there was a hint of wetness in them.

"If what he does hurts no one—then how dare you speak against him. How dare anyone who does not know the full weight that he carries even open their mouths and whisper."

"He's hurting himself," Roza muttered, swiping at her eyes. "Even though he hates me… I don't want him to hurt."

"And yet… when he did something that might have ended up giving him a bit of happiness and making things better for himself… you stopped it from happening. You did not pull Dimitri away and use your kisses to calm him down. You stood back and watched this person you claim you don't want hurting get stepped on once again. You pulled Viktoria away, not thinking that she is a good, sweet girl who might help him."

"Yeah—I'm the bad guy here. Let me tell you something Yeva Belikova—as much as I care about Adrian I hate what he's done to himself! He's so eat up with bitterness that I was afraid for Viktoria. So excuse the hell out of me for trying to protect her from ending up a—" She caught herself, but her unspoken word hovered in the air; we all knew what she'd been about to say—and it made my grandmother furious.

"A what? Blood whore? I despise that term—do not use it in my presence!" Yeva's temper snapped. Her small fist banged down on the table, making the water in her glass slosh over onto the table. "Sometimes I think that the Academies teach our young people all the wrong things—they instill prejudices and about things they do not understand. They teach our people to hate their own kind for things that do not matter one bit!"

"Yeva I—"

Yeva's hand darted to her cane as she glared at Roza across the table. "I am not finished yet! Ambrose told me the way the dhampirs treat him—they look down upon him for the things he does without taking the time to get to know him. They do not know that he has been trying to learn all he can—or that all his money is being saved so one day he can open up a spa for dhampirs alone. A place where Guardians can go to have their stress relieved—where the treatments offered are ones that will help them in the ways they need it the most. Where they can have a few hours of peace and time just for themselves."

"I didn't know that—but… there's a difference between that and the types of places where women… you know."

"Spit it out girl—where the women do what? Give blood to Moroi men? Does it hurt anyone—what they do? You sit and glare at me with those flashing, angry eyes, but your expression when you think the words gives your thoughts away. I tell you that what two people do behind closed doors is no one's business but their own! I gave blood to Olena's father—and Olena gave blood to the one she loved too. Does that make us blood whores? And if so… what does that make you? Mark and Oksa told me how you looked when your father brought you to their house," her eyes dropped down to Roza's throat—just like the day we'd been in the dressing room, my eyes were drawn to the scars there; they were hard to see to the naked eye unless you knew what you were looking for—but once you noticed them, they stood out… tiny raised marks where the scar tissue had built up underneath her tanned skin. "I ask you this—how would you feel if people judged you for what you did? If they spread slander about you because of things they assumed without considering all the facts… without taking time to know or understand why you did those things. What happened between you and Dimka is no one's business but your own. You had your reasons just as I had mine and my Olena had hers."

She sat back, rubbing her hands across her face, looking drawn and tired, as if the burst of anger had drained away her energy—but I wasn't fooled. Her eyes still held a fiery zeal that would not go out until the final sleep took her. "I have seen what Spirit can drive a man to do firsthand, Roza. I have seen someone as kind and good as Vasilisa brought so low that they attacked those around them without reason. I have heard them beg for death to ease the suffering of their mind. I have found a man so consumed by the darkness that he'd torn open his own flesh with his fangs in hopes that it would relieve the pressures building inside him before they drove him mad.—and I say that if the things young Ivashkov does prevents that from happening to him, then all the better. Never again do I want someone to find the Spirit user they love trapped within their own mind and unable to escape its demons. To witness something like that… to be unable to help someone you love… it scars the soul in ways that do not heal."

"Who was it… the Spirit user?" Adrian's voice was almost a whisper. "Is it someone the queen and Lord Ivashkov could talk to? They're trying to learn all they can about how to deal with their element."

"It was Olena's father… he is dead. It was not his element that took him—once we learned how to master it… he was never bothered by the darkness again."

Roza stared at her, processing what she had said. "Mastered it… you were shadow kissed?"

"No." My grandmother chuckled softly, shaking her head. "There was no bond of shadows between us—but another kind entirely."

"Impossible. The only way to ease the darkness is—"

"You young people—you think you know so much. Let me guess, you read a book or two so now you are an expert? I read a library of books, child—and I lived the very things they referenced in their pages. I do not lie—and I am not mistaken."

"I read everything I could find," Roza responded, hotly. "And I talked to people too. There was only one Spirit user mentioned and—"

"Saint Vladimir… and his Anna. Incomplete tales that only graze the surface of the truth—probably that is why the books were not destroyed when they burned Ekaterina's great library. Mind you…they had no way of knowing that most of her collection had already been moved to safety—or that she had entrusted a select few to memorize what they could."

"Wait—hold up. Ekaterina Zeklos? She had books on Spirit?" Adrian set his chair down with a thump, staring at my grandmother with wide eyes.

"She did. Hundreds of them. Ancient, handwritten tomes and scroll upon scroll of parchment. She collected the history of the Moroi and dhampir, preserving the past to protect the future."

"Who would dare burn her library? And… why on earth would they do such a thing?" Mama reached over to take my grandmother's hand, as entranced by what she was saying as the rest of us.

"Why does anyone burn or ban books, daughter? They hide away or destroy what they do not understand out of fear. It is the nature of people, be they human or Moroi or dhampir. As for who… it was the members of her Royal council—of course. Who else? Oh they covered their tracks, saying that when she abandoned her palace she left the fireplace burning—but it was a lie. The destruction of that beautiful historic building was a part of the reason the next queen decided to start over, moving her Court here."

I glanced over at Adrian, wondering if his Aunt had ever mentioned such a thing to him. It was clear by the look on his face that it was a surprise. "But her books… the ones that weren't destroyed… where are they?"

Yeva shrugged. "Who knows—she hid them away somewhere where they will never be found unless she chooses to show them."

"I still don't see how Vladimir and Anna's story isn't complete—he had spirit, she took his darkness through the bond. He died, she went crazy . End of story." Roza gave my grandmother a skeptical look.

"I have already answered your question—there are more bonds than just the one made up of shadows." Yeva stared her down. "And there was more to Anna than just being shadow kissed."

"So you're saying there's a way we can save Lis—uh… the Queen—and other Spirit users?" Adrian caught himself before using her nickname—it was a good thing Roza was so intent on my grandmother or she might have caught the slip.

"Other Spirit users? Yes. The Queen—no."

"Why the fuck not?" Roza's temper snapped. "If you know—"

"I repeat. I have already answered your question. If you didn't listen it is no one's fault but your own. I am done talking for the day, I am tired and I am old. I will say one last thing—to heal a Spirit user without dying or losing one's mind, the answer is simple. Nature abhors a vacuum and what is used must be replaced."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"If there is a hole in the middle of the road, Roza, what must one do to fix it?"

Roza stared at her, not even blinking. "I don't want riddles… I want answers."

"Fill it." Adrian said, softly.

"Exactly. You are a wise man, Guardian Johnson."

"But how? How can you replenish something that is a part of you that's been used up?"

"If you have a glass of water that is empty and you thirst what do you do, kotik?" She reached over, laying her hand on his arm.

He frowned, his brow wrinkling. "Refill it with water."

"Exactly. You see? Half of my riddle is already solved Roza—It just takes using your head. When you figure out the other half you will have the answers you seek."

"Great. So we're supposed to sit around playing mind games while Lissa and Adrian go insane—or I should say… more insane, in Adrian's case." Roza shot my grandmother a dark look—one that did not affected her in the slightest.

"You do not listen. There is no help for your friend… not until she has lived her nightmares. Even then… she may be forever lost if the old ways do not come back." My grandmother stood, reaching for her cane. "I am exhausted and must rest—no Olena, you stay and visit with Roza." She frowned at my mother—who had automatically risen to her feet. "I am old, I need the young about me." Her eyes shifted to Adrian and she nodded. "Come children—you are young and strong and full of energy. You may escort me to my suite."

Adrian stood, reaching for his wallet, but Mama waved him off. "Lunch was already paid for—by the queen. Keep your money, Guardian Johnson, it is not needed."

"Well then… please give the queen my thanks. It was a pleasure to meet you Ms. Belikova—" He paused, his jaw momentarily tensing—so fast and fleeting that I almost didn't see it. "and… Guardian Hathaway."

He held out his arm and Yeva took it, smiling wryly as she did; before I'd even gotten to my feet she was dragging him off in the direction of our building. I paused to kiss Mama's cheek and mumble a hurried goodbye to Roza—and already they were turning the corner, making me rush to catch up with them. The sound of Yeva's voice questioning him made me speed my steps even more.

"So… Guardian Johnson. What Academy did you attend?" There was a hint of mischief in her voice—but he did not catch it.

"Uh… I was trained at home. By my father."

"Ah well that explains it. I heard Roza mumbling under her breath to my grandson that you have no marks when you turned to grab your chair—but if you were not enrolled, that explains it."

He winced, obviously realizing he'd forgotten to weave them into his illusion. "Yeah—can't get a promise mark without being at an Academy."

"Oh even then I do not imagine you would receive one, child."

He frowned, probably wondering if she was being snide, not seeing the way the corners of her mouth twitched up with amusement.

"Do you not remember what I said about my grandmother? You are wasting your time trying to convince her."

He looked over at me, his forehead wrinkling. "What does that mean?"

"It means you best work on your story, kotik—otherwise you will never fool my grandson." Her hand slid down his arm, fingers brushing along the silver band on his hand. "And it means I am impressed with you for trying…. Lord Ivashkov."

I laughed at the look of shock on his face. "She is like me—she sees the truth. And for her to admit you impress her…" I leaned over and kissed my grandmother's cheek, smiling down at her. "is a very important thing. It means that she likes you, moy Dusha."

My grandmother's eyes met with mine—and I knew she understood the real meaning of what I'd said. "You have seen the same things I have. The name you call him fits." She tightened her hand on his arm, murmuring softly. "There is only one way to escape the past and fully embrace the future—the road must be paved with many things… the most important of them being the truth."

I puzzled over what she had said, trying to untwist the words into something I could understand. It took me a minute to realize that my grandmother had locked eyes with Adrian; after a moment, he nodded slowly, then he looked up at me. "Your grandmother… is an amazing woman."

"Yes, she is."

Yeva snorted. "I think amazing is far too mild a description—but thank you just the same. You should work on your vocabulary a bit and try to find one that suits me better. Perhaps…"

She froze, her voice trailing off in mid-sentence, her eyes glazing over as she stared ahead, a faint tremor shaking her small form.

"Ms. Belikova? Are you alright?" Adrian's eyes flicked from her to me, full of concern. "Should I—"

"No… it is vision. Just wait." I rubbed my hand along her arm, eyes darting around the street, making sure no one was close enough to hear whatever she might say.

"So much loneliness. I feel it like an ache in my bones." Her voice was so soft I could barely hear her. "She cannot rest… but doesn't want to."

"Who—"

I silenced him with a look. "Let it play out."

I tried to mask the worry I felt, but it was very hard to do. Back home her visions had never come so frequently—and neither had mine. One a week was usual, but never more than that. It was almost as if something about being at Court was giving our shared gift added strength—a thought I couldn't bear since I didn't want it in the first place.

Yeva went limp; Adrian caught her, scooping her up in his arms far more easily that I could have—which was impressive considering I have dhampir strength. "Don't worry… I've got you. We'll get you home and—"

"No—you must take me there. I must see it."

"You need to rest, Ms. Belikova. After that I promise we'll take you wherever you want to go." Adrian looked at me, and I shook my head, knowing it was a battle he was going to lose.

"Grandmother—"

"It must be now Vika—I have to find the answer. It is in my head but I cannot find it… but if I am there… it will come to me." Her hand reached for mine, squeezing it tightly. "She said you were very impudent before and requests that this time your shoes stay on in her presence."

I froze, staring at her, completely shaken by her words. It was impossible…seeing the dead was not one of her gifts.

Adrian shifted her weight in his arms, the concern in his eyes growing at whatever was showing on my face. "Angel…what—"

"I know where she wants to go. The garden." I tore my eyes away from his so he couldn't see my fear. "She saw the Queen. Your Aunt Tatiana spoke to her."

---

A/N: Sorry this is a long one, but I like to be thorough when answering the questions you guys leave.

Guest (sorry you didn't leave your name so I don't know what to call you o.o) asked: Are you going to do different stories about this pairing or is this the only one? I'm shipping them like fedex. C:

Vidrian (Vika and Adrian)will be featured in three of my ongoing stories: This one, 'Letting Go' and 'In the Shadows of the Moroi Court', as well as appearing in the drabble collection and the one shot collection. Probably a few head canons and diary entries for Vika as well, I just have to figure out where I'm going to post them.

I know the chapters are kinda long—an average book chapter is usually somewhere between 4,000 to 5,000 pages—but I hate short chapters that only cover one scene. I personally prefer longer, more detailed chapters that cover more—to me it's like the difference in a snack and a meal, if that makes sense, though sometimes I force myself to write short ones due to time constraints. Vika makes me write long ones for her—or maybe it's just that I love this ship so much and since they will never be canon I want to give their story as much as I can.

I was originally going to do three separate 'books' covering Vika's journey, covering the time frame from Homecomings to post The Golden Lily—and beyond into the next generation. They were going to be called 'The Mask I Wear: Beginnings', 'The Mask I Wear: Lost Hope', and 'The Mask I Wear: Resurrection—but I think it will simplify things If I keep posting all three in this one fic. I might do a blank chapter with an A/N indicating the 'book' title between them, but I'm not sure yet.

Vika and Adrian's story is a very, very long one. I have several 200 page spirals filled (front and back of each page) written out long hand, and I'm about halfway through a new one. When I type up each chapter, it grows and expand as I transfer it, sometimes branching off into completely different stories like Tatiana, Abe and Yeva's—which will be expounded on in "The Shadows of the Moroi Court'. Basically… if you stick with the story to the end, you'll be in for a long, bumpy ride, lol.

I cannot tell you how happy it makes me for you to say you ship them; I love Vika and Adrian together so much—and that love just grows more and more as their story unfolds. *giant hugs*

P.S.—A little teaser for those of you that have said you want to see Romitri babies… they'll be in here and in 'Letting Go'. I promise! :o)

P.S.S. Just as I was about to post this another review hit my mail box, so adding to it now instead of waiting for this weekend when I post the next chapter.

Maria asked: Can we get a sneak peek of some of the future stuff? Please? It's driving me crasy knowing you've already written it. :)

Here you go doll—sneak peek below, so anyone who doesn't want to see a snippet from the second 'book' stop reading here!

At that moment, something moved in my peripheral vision; it was the faintest flicker of paleness, seen from the corner of my eye. I slowly turned my head—just the slightest hint of a moment, not wanting to give the voyeur any sign that might indicate I had spotted it. Reaching between the seats I laid my hand on Mark's arm, then pointed to Oksana's side of the vehicle. My voice was barely a whisper when he finally got the message. "We have company."

He tensed, fighting the initial, overpowering impulse to turn his head and peer out the window into the dark night beyond—I knew because I was fighting off that exact same impulse too. "How many?"

"I can't tell… at least two—they are hiding in the tree line." Even as I spoke, another subtle movement made me mentally add another to what I'd said.

"Shouldn't you be able to sense them?" Oksana started to turn her head, but Mark grabbed her hand, stilling her.

"I can't sense anything other than your reaction to the wards—it has me so head blind I can't even shut off the bond."

I inched closer to Marks side of the car, not wanting to open the door so close to Oksana. She had to be protected—that was the important thing. The fact that she was a Moroi did not cross my mind—my instinct to protect her was driven by one solitary thing. She might be able to use her element to restore the Queen's mind—and in doing so insure that Dusha would be safe from the persecution Spirit users might soon face. "Get her inside the wards and send help—I will distract them."

"No! We will all ride in together and—"

"Risk them breeching the wards the same way they did at my brother's Academy? I think not—Now GO!" I was out the door before he could argue. My eyes scanned the darkness as he put the car in gear and slammed on the gas, heading for the gates. I heard Oksana cry out, screaming at him to stop—telling him I didn't have a stake—but thank God above he did not listen to her pleas. My fingers touched the pendant at my neck; I raised it to my lips, watching as the Strigoi peeled away from the trees, five of them heading my way. "For moy Dusha," I whispered softly—and then I turned to face them with the only weapon I had—my determination to survive so I could keep the man I loved safe.