Her eyes flash. "Excuse me?"
I turn to face her. "You heard me. You're a spoiled rich girl who's never had to rough it a day in her life. You probably had a fucking maid to bring you everything you needed. A servant to wipe your goddamn ass, maybe. You never had to think about what you needed, and now that you're in a real survival situation, you can't handle it, and you’re too proud to admit it.”
I know I'm being an asshole. I know it even as the words are coming out of my mouth. But I can't seem to stop. I nearly killed myself getting her out of there, getting herhere, and we’re nowhere near safe yet. We’re not far enough from the compound to even begin to feel safe. And yet she’s sitting there, turning her nose up at food after she’s been starving, refusing to let me look at her and determine what kind of care she needs.
I’m exhausted and foggy-headed and still dealing with the fact that the one woman I never thought I’d see again, the one woman I’ve wanted more than anything in my life and can never have, is the one I found here, in the depths of hell itself.
Svetlana shoots to her feet, the blanket falling away from her shoulders. Her hands are clenched into fists at her sides.
"You think I'm spoiled?" Her voice is hoarse, but it drops, her tone vicious. "You think I can't handle this?"
"I think you've been complaining since we got here?—"
"I haven't said a word!"
"You don't have to. It's written all over your face. This cabin isn't up to your standards. The clothes aren't designer. The food isn't gourmet. Poor little princess, having to slum it with the common people."
"Fuck you, Kazimir." She spits out the words like bullets, rapid-fire, one after another. "You have no idea what I can handle. You have no idea what I've survived."
"I saw that cell?—"
"You saw a cell. You didn't see what happened in it or in the others. You didn't see the weeks or months before that. Youdidn't see me fighting every single day just to stay alive, just to keep some part of myself intact." She takes a step toward me, and there's something fierce and wild in her eyes now. "You want to talk about survival? I survived being locked in a basement and tortured for entertainment. I survived things that would break most people. So don't you dare stand there and call me spoiled because I don't want you touching me."
The last words hang in the air between us.
I should apologize, and for more than just this. I have plenty to apologize for when it comes to her. And maybe that’s part of what’s making me so angry, because I know how much I’ve failed her, and how likely it is that I’ll still fail her again.
Instead, I just look at her.
Her chest is heaving with emotion. Her hair is a mess around her face. She's wearing clothes that don't fit, and she's covered in bruises, barely able to stand. She’s weaving on her feet, pale as death, and she’s the most magnificent, beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
That fire, that refusal to back down even now—she's not broken. They tried to break her, and they failed.
And I want her so badly it's like a physical ache.
"You're right," I say finally, forcing myself to push the desire down, even as I can feel myself stiffening, throbbing. "I'm sorry."
She blinks, clearly not expecting that. "What?"
"You're right. I don't know what you've been through. And I was out of line."
Some of the fight goes out of her. She sways slightly, and I move without thinking, reaching out to steady her.
She jerks away from my touch. "Don't."
I hold up my hands, backing off. "The stew's ready. You should eat."
I turn back to the stove, using a rag to protect my hand as I take the pot off the heat. I pour the stew into two tin cups I foundon the shelf—there are no bowls—and bring one to her, with a spoon for each of us.
She takes it, wrapping both hands around it like she's trying to absorb the warmth. She doesn't eat right away, just holds it, staring down into the mug. I lean against the wall and eat my portion, watching her. Finally, she starts to eat, and as the minutes pass, I can see some color coming back into her face. The food and the warmth are helping.
Svetlana looks up at me after a moment. “You shouldn’t have gotten me out of there,” she says quietly. “They’re going to do terrible things to you if they catch us. I was… very expensive.”
I suck my teeth briefly, shrugging. “I know.”
"Now you're stuck here with me. In a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Iosef and his men are going to come looking for me.”
“I know that, too.”
