“Her name is Nadia,” I said. “You know it because you used it when you cornered her at work, when you used her brother’s debt to pressure her, when you paid to move her auction lot, and when you sent me a demand for the loss you believe I created by taking her from you.”
Gennady recovered enough to spread his hands. “This is business. Everyone in this room understands business.”
Nadia stood.
Every man in the room looked at her.
My body went still, but I didn’t stop her.
She kept one hand on the back of her chair. Her face had gone pale, but her voice came out clear.
“I entered the auction because my brother owed money and because you made sure I understood what you’d do if I didn’t find a way to pay,” she said. “You didn’t own my choice. You didn’t own me when you paid that auctioneer. You didn’t own me when he called my lot number. You didn’t own me when you won.”
Gennady’s lips parted.
Nadia kept going before he could put filth between her words.
“Vadim took me from you, and he didn’t force me sexually. He didn’t use Petya to make me obey him. He didn’t make me sell myself twice. I chose him after I knew exactly what had happened, and I’m standing here because you don’t get to turn that choice into shame.”
The older Kask man looked away first.
Gennady’s face darkened. “You think a few nights in his bed make you family?”
“No,” Nadia said. “I think my yes does.”
I saw Galina’s hand close around her brooch.
I saw my father lower his chin.
Gennady looked around the room, and the color in his face deepened when no one came to his defense.
Nadia hadn’t begged.
She hadn’t explained herself into smaller pieces.
She’d cut his claim at the root and left it bleeding in front of men who understood what chosen loyalty meant.
Gennady laughed, but it came out wrong. “Pretty speech. Did he write it for you?”
Nadia’s fingers tightened on the chair.
I moved one step.
Gennady saw it and lifted both hands. “No offense meant.”
“You meant it,” I said. “You’re simply frightened by the cost.”
The door opened behind him, and Lev brought Petya in.
Nadia’s breath caught.
Petya looked worse than the photograph in some ways and better in others. His jaw was still bruised from trouble that had started before my men reached him. His hair was mussed, and shame sat heavy in the rigid line of his shoulders. But he was standing. He wasn’t bleeding. No one had bound his hands.
He saw Nadia and took one step toward her.
My man shifted.
“Let him,” I said.
