I can hear her feet slapping against the hard floor, a few calls of surprise from the staff who pause to watch her, but no one tries to hinder her escape.
I could almost respect them for their loyalty—if it weren’t putting Anika directly in danger.
“Anika, stop!” I command, barreling down the steps after her.
She throws a terrified glance behind her—and slams headlong into one of the pedestals showcasing an elaborate vase near the front door.
It topples with an ear-splitting crash, shattering into a thousand little pieces and covering the sound of her cry.
But even that doesn’t slow her down.
Within seconds, she’s at the front door, throwing all her weight into it as she yanks it open before vanishing into the night.
“Merda!” I snarl, leaping over the broken shards to follow her.
She’s astonishingly far ahead by the time I spot her fleeing figure, and my heart skips a beat as I race after her without hesitation. Her arms pump, her feet flashing across the ground.
But it doesn’t matter how quick she might be.
My legs are longer. And I have a lot of practice in running men down. Usually, they’re bulkier, slower.
But my fear for Anika’s safety is an impressive driving force.
So, even when my lungs start to burn with the effort of overtaking her, I keep going.
Relief surges through me when I finally snake my arm around her waist, lifting her off her feet as I bring her escape to an abrupt halt.
“No, nooo!” she screams, squirming with a newfound ferocity that shocks me.
This is unlike anything she’s tried before. Anika seems half crazed as she bites and kicks, lashing out at me like a wild animal. She’s fighting me like she’s got nothing left to lose.
And when a stray elbow finds my throat, I momentarily loosen my grip on her.
That’s all she needs to slip free, and she collapses to the ground with a cry before taking off again.
“Damn it, Anika!” This time when I catch her, I spin her around, trapping her arms across her chest before crushing her body to mine so she can’t incapacitate me.
“Please, please,” she sobs, tears streaming openly down her face as she goes limp against me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t hurt me.”
It feels as though someone has reached inside my chest and ripped my heart out.
The oxygen vanishes from my lungs, any ounce of frustration vanishing along with it as I stare helplessly down at the broken woman in my arms. But that is truly what she is.
I knew Pyotr wasn’t a pleasant man, violent even. But I never dreamed he would turn that cruelty on his own wife.
I had no idea how beaten down Anika is.
She’s put up an impressive front. I thought her distrust was because of what I did—what she watched me do to her husband.
But clearly, that bastard was hurting her if Anika’s had this kind of fear instilled in her.
“Shh,topolina, shh. I’m not going to hurt you,” I promise, trying to soothe her.
She trembles violently against me, her tears coming hard and fast as sobs rack her slight body.
Despite her apparent fear, Anika curls against me, pressing her forehead to my chest and rounding her shoulders to better protect herself.
Aching sadness tightens like a vise around my chest, and I hold her closer, tucking her head beneath my chin as I try to keep her in one piece.
