“Calm down, Miss Danilo.”
That’s not my name,I want to snarl back. I’m not a Danilo anymore. Haven’t been in a long fucking time. I’m Sima Gubarev, Petyr’s wife, a traitor to my kin and a woman on the run.
I’m a mother.
And my daughter needs me.
I kick the man square in the face. His nose snaps, an ugly sound that reminds me of Luka’s state when I first saw him again. Maybe it’s a Gubarev thing—snapping cartilage when we’re upset.
The man grunts. “Fucking hell!”
I recognize his voice this time. Bogdan, one of my father’s closest and most ruthless stooges. He has a body count in the four figures, and the only reason he’s not adding mine to it is likely because his boss wants me alive.
But apparently, “alive” doesn’t mean “whole.”
He slams my head against a rock. Not hard enough to kill me, but enough that my teeth rattle in my skull.
Pain blinds me. The world spins. Nausea surges through me as my whole body tenses and goes limp again within seconds.
He hauls me upright and spins me toward the light of the car.
My kicks are wild, desperate. But he’s a fucking wall, and Petyr doesn’t call melittlefox for nothing. I’m tiny. Useless.
“My husband will kill you for this!” I gasp. “Do you hear me? You’re dead if you touch me!”
He says nothing. His breathing doesn’t even change.
“Wait! I can pay you. Whatever Nikolai’s paying, I’ll double it!”
He doesn’t react. Just throws me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and starts walking towards the headlights.
The woods turn upside down.
I’m too wrecked to keep track of how long it takes to get back to the car. All I know is that I fight him the whole way, but he barely even feels it. If I had a weapon, maybe… If I’d been smart enough not to follow Kira blind and unarmed, then perhaps…
But I don’t. I wasn’t.
Stupid little girl.
Bogdan opens the trunk with one hand. I realize too late what he’s about to do. “No!” I cry out. “No, no, no, please?—!”
He shoves me inside. My back hits the metal. The breath leaves me all over again.
Then the lid slams shut.
54
PETYR
The clock on the wall ticks past midnight.
I’m still in the office. The damn books I was poring over last night haven’t gotten any clearer, and my head has only grown more tangled from it.
My phone sits on the desk beside it, screen lit up with unanswered messages. None from her, though.
I tell myself not to panic. Sima’s probably feeding the baby, or asleep with her phone on silent.
A few minutes later, I step out of my study to check on her.
