“I’m so sorry about Pyotr,” I whisper.
Strange as it might seem, I truly am sorry he died. Not for my own sake.
My husband was nothing but a monster in my world. But he was Svetlana’s great-grandson, her only living descendant left, and I know how much family means to her.
After all, she stuck by her husband, her son, and her grandson, though they were all violent, angry men. The Novikov men might have been conquerors, fierce warriors who never backed down from a fight.
But Svetlana is the backbone of their empire, the shrewd woman who knew how to steer each hotheaded man who took on the role ofPakhan.
But before I can feel too much pain on her behalf, Svetlana scoffs. “My great-grandson was pickled from drinking too much alcohol,” she says, her tone unforgiving and resigned. “He probably brought it upon himself. But tell me, how have you been handling the changes around the house?”
I pause, considering her question for the first time.
My week spent locked up in a room had driven me stir crazy with fear and concern for the people I’m responsible for, the people in this house, who I’m supposed to protect.
But the snippets Chastity fed me throughout that time helped put me at ease, and now, seeing how normal everything feels, I’m starting to think that the shift in power wasn’t nearly as devastating to the staff as I’d imagined.
“I’m… better than I thought I’d be,” I admit. “So far Miko hasn’t been cruel to me.” If anything, I would say it’s the opposite—even if he’s made me a prisoner in my own home. But that’s not entirely something new for me.
Svetlana gives me a knowing nod and pats my hand. “Women in our world have to suffer more than most women in the modern world, don’t they?” she says sagely. “A strong back and an iron will to survive will help you outlast them all.”
My heart flutters at her prophetic words, and somehow, deep down, I know she’s talking about what it will take to endure the men in our world.
I don’t know exactly what I want to say as my lips part, but before I can make a sound, movement behind the keen woman makes my spine stiffen.
“Miko,” I gasp, alarm bells going off in my head as warmth floods my body, a shot of adrenaline surging through my veins.
I jerk upright, my heart racing as I wonder how long he’s been standing there—and exactly how much he overheard.
17
MIKO
My curiosity spikes as Anika pales, visibly caught off guard by my presence—and not in a good way.
I was drawn to the garden, intrigued by who the old woman was and why she would be the first person Anika sought out when she had free rein of the house.
But now, I get the sense that she would rather I not find out.
Despite her confusing reaction, though, the sound of my name on her lips sends a jolt of anticipation through my body.
And even in the broad light of day, it makes me want to carry her back to bed and do dirty things with her for saying it.
“Morning,” I say, my voice coming out more gruff than I intended.
“What are you… doing out here?” she asks hesitantly, glancing around the garden as if only now realizing they were holding an intimate conversation in far too public of a location.
“I saw you walking through the window and thought I’d come out to meet your friend,” I state, turning my eyes to the woman nestled in her wheelchair.
“Oh, this… this is, um… Well, she’s no one really, just—” Anika’s cheeks flush as she struggles to give me an answer.
It isn’t hard to see she’s reluctant to tell me, and my curiosity intensifies as I raise my brows.
Then the old woman cackles, the harsh sound interrupting the awkwardly unexpected standoff. “And they call me senile,” she jokes. “At least I can remember my name. Svetlana Novikov,” she adds, extending one gnarled hand.
A lightbulb goes on at the name, and though I’ve never met her before, I have heard about Pyotr Novikov’s great-grandmother, the matron of the family, who lived to bury both her son and her grandson—and now, her great-grandson as well.
My stomach knots as I look down at the old woman, a twinge of guilt coming to life inside me for the first time.
