His gaze glints as it narrows with anger. “There aretoyseverywhere.”
I jump to my feet, wondering if I can make it look tidier somehow.
“And is that a sparkly step-stool? This is supposed to be an office, not a goddamn daycare.”
“It’s just for emergencies. In case I ever need to bring the?—”
“So, youdiddo this.”
His voice rises, sharp and bitter, and I find myself staggering a step backward.
I feel it in my chest. Tight and familiar. That old burn of fear crawling up my spine. I know that tone all too well. The kind that doesn’t wait for answers.The kind that doesn’t calm down.
“I should fire you right now!” He picks up a few of the picture books and tosses them in the trash.
I stay frozen for a moment, just staring at the books in the waste basket. One of them has a corner folded. My fingers tremble, and I want to reach down and fix it. But fear immobilizes me. And I’m trying hard not to cry as I feel a burn at the back of my eyes.
“You think this is cute? Bringing in your little crayons and baby crap and turning this place into a fucking kindergarten?” He scoffs and steps up to me, in my space and too close. “You thought you’d just bring your fairy princess energy in here? Let me guess, you’re planning story time next? Maybe naps and sticky snack times between our missions?”
“I didn’t mean to—” But I can’t find the words to say it. I grip the edge of the cabinet behind me like it might stop the whole room from spinning out of control. “I’ll clean it up,” I whisper. “If it’s a problem.”
He lets out a harsh laugh. “Damn right, it’s a problem. This placeused to be professional. Now it looks like a kindergarten threw up a fucking glitter nightmare.”
The silence that follows is thick.
My heart pounds in my ears.
My throat tightens.
My hands start to shake.
This isn’t the first time a man’s shouted at me like this.
And all I can think about is when Gennady used to punish me.
He stalks another step closer to me—and I flinch violently.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
VIKTOR
The second I near the office, I know something’s off.
The air feels wrong. Too still. Too tense. Like that brittle silence before a storm bursts forth.
I round the corner and stop cold in the doorway.
Grigory’s there. He’s standing over Avelina.
He’s too close. His shoulders squared.
His voice is raised. I can’t make out the words, just the biting scorn behind them.
And Avelina—she’s backed into the filing cabinet. Both hands behind her like she’s bracing herself. Eyes wide with that kind of fear I know too damn well.
Then she flinches.
And a red haze blurs my entire vision.
