I don’t look at her when I say it.
I don’t need to.
She’s not going anywhere.
Not from this house.
Not from me.
Chapter 26
Ayla
Vaska.
He left me with Vaska.
Alone.
I watch the door shut after the last of Maksim’s men.
Vaska stands beside me and watches me like he’s deciding which version of himself to give. Something in between cruelty and kindness that feels worse, because it’s harder to predict.
“Come on,” he says, casual, like we’re two normal people in a normal house. Like Maksim didn’t just throw a knife into a man’s shoulder ten minutes ago because his eyes stayed on me for too long.
I don’t move right away.
My pulse is still buzzing under my skin. My irritation is sharper than my fear, which is saying something, because fear is practically my religion at this point.
I force my feet to go anyway.
Because in houses like this, standing still gets you noticed.
And being noticed gets you tested.
Vaska leads me down a hallway that’s too wide and too quiet, the kind of quiet that doesn’t soothe—it warns. The floors are polished wood, the walls dressed up in expensive art that feels like a lie. Everything is curated.
Everything is a mask.
I catch glimpses of other rooms as we pass—dark sitting areas, a dining space that looks like it’s never been used for anything resembling food, heavy curtains drawn like the house is hiding from daylight.
I keep my gaze forward. Don’t touch anything. Don’t slow down. Don’t act like a guest.
Guests get invited. I’m not invited.
I’m kept.
Maksim is keeping me. And kept things only last as long as they are needed
Vaska leads me back to the living room and gestures me in with one hand.
I’m still deciding what to do with myself when Vaska speaks again.
“Sit wherever.”
He makes it sound like a choice.
Like I’m not in a place where every chair has an invisible price tag.
