My eyes widen. “Is Gavriil…”
“He won’t hurt me,” Klara replies, glancing over her shoulder at me. “I’m leaving the city soon. Returning to Russia.”
My heartbeat slows down a little. I have a habit of assuming the worst from Gavriil.
“This is what you must wear,” Klara tells me as she pulls out a black dress with a white collar and white cuffs on the short sleeves.
“This is what Gavriil chose?” I ask her. It’s quite…modest compared to what he picked out for me the last few times.
“Yes,” she replies before handing the dress over to me. She reaches back into the bag and pulls out a pair of tights, a lace black bra, and matching panties.
I could almost cry at the sight of panties with some form of coverage.
“I’ll turn around. Don’t stab me with the tweezers,” she warns me with a grin before turning to face the door.
I also smile a little. At least she’s kind and giving me some leeway. Gavriil’s guards are so strict and heavy-handed.
My smile fades when I pull off the towel and peer at myself in the bathroom mirror that stretches above the long countertop. My ribs and collarbones are more pronounced, while my curves aren’t. I’m much slimmer than I was before, and I’m sure that I’ve lost a decent amount of my muscle mass.
That puts me at a disadvantage. As if I already wasn’t at one in every other way.
I tear my eyes away from the mirror to get dressed. Every piece fits perfectly. It’s good to be fully dressed again in nice, warm clothes. It almost feels like being handed back a piece of myself.
My stomach knots as I feel just a semblance of normalcy for a second as I adjust the collar and the end of the dress as it stops a few inches above my knees.
But nothing about my life is normal. It never has been.
“I’m done,” I tell Klara.
She turns back around and reaches into the very bottom of the wardrobe bag to pull out a pair of black flats then hands them over to me. “I would’ve chosen something nicer.”
“Better than being barefoot,” I reply before slipping the shoes on. They’re a little stiff since they’re new, but I’m not complaining about a nice outfit after what I’ve been through recently.
“Turn to me,” Klara says, prompting me to face her with my hands at my sides.
She fixes my hair and touches up the light pink lipstick that looks natural but gives my lips a little more life. She smooths out the bottom of my short sleeves and does a better job at properly creasing my collar.
“There. You’re all done,” Klara tells me. “I’ll have to tell the guard to return, but I can give you a few more minutes.”
My throat tightens as a surge of gratitude hits me. “Thank you.”
She nods once before putting her things away, going slower than I know she has to.
During that time, I take a few deep breaths, preparing myself for whatever comes next because I don’t know what to expect. Gavriil told me that today is a big day, but that just makes me more nervous.
Once Klara finishes, she opens the door. “She’s done.”
Valentin places the handcuffs back on my wrists and pulls me out of the bathroom by my arm.
I manage to meet Klara’s eyes over my shoulder for a second before I’m led down the hallway. My stomach flips as I soon hear voices coming from another room. Among them, I easily pick out Gavriil’s.
Valentin leads me inside. My knees threaten to give out when I see how many of them are seated at a conference table, all armed, alert, and very aware of who I am.
Of course, Gavriil is sitting at the head.
He glances over his shoulder at me, his gaze lingering on my body as he takes in his outfit of choice. “In that chair.”
I don’t even see the chair near his left side until Valentin drags me over to it. It’s smaller than everyone else’s, making me look and feel the same way as I sit down in it. I fold my cuffedhands in my lap, heart pounding heavily, as I glance around the room.
