Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
And now everything I thought was mine feels like an illusion.
Who else has been lying to me? What else am I going to find out next?
Zoya hands me a tray with my favorite soup: creamy chicken and rice, a recipe she learned from Polina. Next to the bowl is crusty bread and a simple salad, along with a large glass of water. A few minutes ago, I was starving. Now I can't think of eating anything, but if I don't, I'll draw alarm from them. So I thank her and take a sip of water and a tentative bite of bread.
"I was worried for you," Semyon says with a little smile, oblivious to my inner turmoil. I squeeze his hand back even as a lump forms in my throat. I won't look at him now, my handsome, heartless Superman.
“Hey. Anya, are you alright?”
From the doorway, Rafail stands, his hands in his pockets. He looks tired, wearing nothing but his dress slacks and a white T-shirt, his ever-present suit jacket discarded.
No, I'm not all right. But I only nod quietly. "I wish I knew why that happened, but yeah, I think I'm okay.”
“I know. Rest and tell us if you need anything.” My nose tingles. It’s nice to have someone taking care of me for once.
Rafail looks to Semyon. “We’re ready for you.”
The person he has to interrogate is waiting downstairs—the person who has answers, presumably. But he hesitates, his eyes on me.
"Go," I say, and to my relief, my voice doesn't waver this time. It feels like I'm telling him to go in more ways than one.
Go… leave me.
Everything's been manipulated, shaped to fit into the grand design of their empire. And for what? Control. My family's safety was used as a bargaining chip in their game.
The walls feel too close, the blankets too hot. I try to steady my breathing, but all I can do is focus on Semyon’s rumpled clothes and mussed hair. The man who has become my tether is now the one unraveling me.
He thought he could control me, another piece on his chessboard.
He rises to his feet. “Anya, rest. I’ll be back.”
My eyes stay fixed on the bandage wrapped around his arm—a reminder of everything he’s endured. A reminder that he’s human. I know he’s been through hell too.
Fear gnaws at me. What else has he kept from me?
I can’t afford to break now.
"Anya?" Zoya's voice cuts through the haze. I blink, realizing she's standing in front of me, concerned.
"I'm fine." I shake my head, forcing a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "I need some air."
“Of course.” She opens a window. Yeah, I need more than that.
"Let me know if you need anything else," she says brightly. "Stefan's done his homework, and he's gone to bed for the night."
"Thank you."
I wait until she’s gone, stand, and begin pacing. My mind feels like a tangle of memories, promises, and betrayal. My instincts tell me to follow Semyon, to ask for answers, but I stay rooted to the spot. And if I go to him, what will I find? Do I really need to see him brutally beat someone so he can interrogate them and get answers? Do I really need to see another bloody scene?
I can't just leave. Stefan is here. But I have to find a way out.
My phone buzzes with a text. Ophelia.
Ophelia
We need to talk, Anya. It’s urgent.
I respond to her, my heart racing.
What’s the matter?
Ophelia
It's about Eli. I have information I have to tell you, but it has to be secret. Can you come outside? I'll meet you outside.
I look out the window to where armed guards stand at every exit.
Yes, of course.
Chapter 26
SEMYON
The basement is cold and damp, lit only by a single flickering bulb. It's our form of a dungeon, but Rafail is too proper to change it. Our prisoner, bloodied and bruised, sits slumped in the chair, his wrists bound behind him. I hope he's close to breaking. I’ve had a long fucking day.
Sweat coats his forehead, but his half-lidded eyes stay open. Matvei has warmed him up for me.
My voice is low and lethal. I’m out of patience. "Talk."
The man coughs, spitting blood onto the floor. "You think you know everything, don't you?" His twisted grin forms despite the pain. "You're fucked too, Kopolov.”
Yeah, that’s not up for debate. Appealing to my human side is a waste of time.
I take a slow step forward, my hands clenching into fists. I hardly expected him to just open his mouth and tell me everything.
"You may want to rethink your approach to survival," I warn him.
He doubles over, coughing, the sound wet and ragged. He has broken limbs and broken ribs. Blood dribbles from the corner of his mouth.
"Oh, I'm already dead. You know that. Don't fuck with me."
"But you have family," I say casually, pushing my hands into my pockets and walking closer. I’m not bluffing, and he fucking knows it.