Petyr appears, broad and furious. His presence fills the space. His eyes cut straight to me, then to Luka, then back again.
“She left her room,” Luka explains flatly.
Petyr’s hand clamps hard around my arm before I can speak. His grip is iron, his pace brutal as he drags me back down the corridor.
I stumble to keep up. “Petyr, I?—”
“Quiet.” He doesn’t slow, doesn’t so much as look at me. His fingers dig into my arm all the way up, until we’re back at the locked door.
He shoves me inside and follows me in, then bolts the door behind him.
And I realize, all of a sudden, how badly I just fucked up.
10
SIMA
Inside, Petyr finally lets go of my arm.
I rub the spot where his fingers have been. “What the hell, Petyr?”
“Tell me how you got out.”
The fury in his voice should scare me, but I’m angry, too. Fucking pissed, actually. I refuse to shrink from him. After everything he’s done, he should be the one explaining himself to me, not the other way around.
“Why should I tell you?” I cross my arms. “You locked me up like a prisoner. I’ve got every right to try and get out.”
“You’ll tell me because I’m asking.”
“Try again.” I hold his gaze and don’t back down.
He doesn’t, either. Just plants his feet stubbornly between me and the locked door.
“You know, in German prisons, they don’t even add time to your sentence for escape attempts,” I huff. “They understand that it’shuman to seek freedom. Maybe you should take a page out of their book and learn how to treat your captives like people.”
“What—”
“I learned that in one of the riveting reads your housekeeper graced me with,” I inform him. “Thanks for that, by the way. Real compelling stuff.”
I watch his jaw muscles work and force myself to remember I’m not supposed to find him attractive right now. He’s my jailer, and there’s nothing hot about jailers. Not even when they look sculpted by Michelangelo himself.
He steps closer. His shadow swallows me. “Youwillanswer me.” His fingers flex impatiently at his side. “Or I swear, boring books will be the least of your problems.”
For a moment, I consider telling him the truth—that Anya didn’t lock the door when she left. If he’s got someone to blame, he won’t take it out on me. He’s never hit me before, but this new Petyr is a mystery. Not that I really think he would, even now, but he could do other things.
Like take my child from me.
My hand subconsciously flies to my belly. Right. This isn’t just about me. In fact, it’s pretty much not about me at all.
“Petyr could have killed me because of what you did. You ran while you were under my protection. Do you understand that?”
Suddenly, Luka’s words from earlier slam into me.
That’s right. He risked death because of me. I ran on his watch, and Petyr all but rearranged his face. That was thebest-casescenario, too. If Petyr had wanted to punish someone—to make a true example of someone—Luka would be dead right now.
Because of me.
If Petyr thinks Anya slipped, she’ll take the blame. She’ll risk exactly what Luka risked.
