“Hop on. Last stop,” I tell Cecilia, patting my leg.
“I’m not your dog. And I don’t need to be carried.” She opens the door next to her and slips outside.
I follow her, eyeing her trembling legs. “Not my dog. More like a baby deer trying not to die on the lawn. Suit yourself.”
When I enter the house, there’s no wave of heat hitting me. We like to keep it somewhat cool, even indoors. Father used to take me and Wolf out to Siberia when we were kids to get used to the temperatures. Cecilia, on the other hand, grew up under the sun. This place must be hell on Earth to her, and she’d be right.
The clacking of heels on the wood floors grows louder as Corinne, the head housekeeper, greets us in the foyer. A frown feathers her wrinkled face as she takes in my rough exterior. Her eyes shift to Cecilia, then back to me.
“Right,” I say in place of greeting. “We’re going to need a spare bedroom that’s warm. Take her there and set her up by the fireplace.”
“I was told you’d be coming home with your wife. I only warmed up your bedroom.”
“Of course you did.” I give her a tight smile, grab Cecilia’s wrist, and lead us past the housekeeper. The old hag and I like each other about as much as anyone likes stale beer.
Another sharp pain assaults my body as I trudge to the big staircase, but I push through it. I told Antonio the wedding is next week, which means Cecilia can’t get sick until then. I need the goddamn fireplace.
“Oh myGod,” a voice I recognize cuts through the haze from somewhere behind us. “What are you doing? Why is this girl barely wearing any clothes?”
“I don’t know, found her at the beach, and she followed me home,” I mutter.
Victoria, my brother’s wife, throws me a murderous look as she rushes in from the living room with a blanket in her arms. They got married last spring, and when she first came into thishouse, she detested it too. At least Cecilia will have someone to relate to instead of getting in my way.
“You look…” Victoria says, watching me. “Never mind. At least you’re alive.”
“How thoughtful.” I grin.
“Wolf wants to see you. Go—I’ll take care of her.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“This is serious, Mikhail. You forced his hand, and you know it. Don’t go in there pretending this is all okay.”
My jaw flexes under an exasperated breath before I peer down at Cecilia. She looks so out of place in her sunny dress and the suit jacket that’s too big for her. Cute. For a murderer—I should remember that.
The sight of her with those big, scowling eyes looking up to me for answers bangs against that hollow place in my chest, cementing my new reality. I put this whole thing in motion, and now, I’m stuck with the consequences. What the hell do I know about taking care of someone?
“This is Victoria. She’ll take you to your new room,” I say. Before I let her go, I take out the spare phone in my pocket and hand it to her, just to avoid her whining about it later. Our hacker gutted the OS, so nothing on this thing broadcasts location .“Off you go.”
She blinks—confused, or shocked, or maybe both. “Oh, so now you’re leaving me alone? What the hell am I supposed to do here?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Just…” I look at her again and come face to face with her beauty, knowing how much of a nuisance this is going to be if I’m not careful. “Do us both a favor and keep that bedroom door locked tonight.”
13
Mikhail
Twenty-two years ago
By the time he reached the iron door at the bottom of the old staircase, the blood had already dried on Mikhail’s hands. He didn’t seem to notice it at all, let alone care. There was too much at stake on a night like this, and only one window of opportunity.
The guards were changing shifts.
His childish heart pounded against his ribcage, eyes attuned to the lack of light like a critter of the forest surrounding the estate. This was his home and his hell, and he had learned to navigate it at the crude age of eight. He had to. Because his best friend in the entire world—his half-brother—was locked behind the iron door in front of him.
The muffled squeaking of rats welcomed Mikhail first as he approached it, as if they could feel him and the morsels of charred meat he held between his fingers.
He didn’t know why his hands were shaking. After all, he had just killed a rabbit all by himself, started a fire, and cooked the animal under the threat of bigger predators. His fear of the small rodents seemed illogical. And yet, he couldn’t imagine being on the other side of that door. The fact that his brother was forced to endure it made him shudder.
