Page 39 of Nemesis

But what if he never returns to her side?

What if I’m the reason that little girl grows up alone and abandoned?

“What’s her name?”

“Anya.” He’s smiling when I turn, a soft curve that rarely adorns his lips down here. “But I call her zayka. My little bunny.”

I curl into his broad body, trying to ignore the worrisome stench of blood. I don’t know if it’s his or mine. I suppose it doesn’t matter, since we’re both coated. “Well, when we get out of here, I’ll come over and teach Anya ballet.”

I’m not sure why I say such an optimistic thing.

The arm around me tightens. “I’m not sure I’d enjoy you two ganging up on me.”

“Hush.” I tap his nose. “Not everything is about you.”

A few days ago, you would never have caught me booping this psychopath’s nose. It’s wild how fast things can change in a place so stagnant.

He narrows his eyes at the finger, but doesn’t remove it from caressing the curves of his face. “Have I earned your forgiveness yet, zlaya?”

“Depends.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “What am I forgiving you for?”

“What I said the night we met,” he says roughly, tightening his hold. “About the dancers hanging off those rich bastards’ necks. It doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Oh.” I shake my head, stirring up fresh pain with the movement. “Don’t worry about that, Vas. I was pissed and in pain, and I took it out on you.”

He’s silent for a long time before finally responding.

“Your left leg, right? Did you hurt it in that performance?”

I pull back. “How’d you⁠—”

“You had a slight limp when you were running from me. I’m trained to notice these things.”

Oh.

I’ve spent so many years hiding the injury, it feels almost aggressive for him to point it out. My first instinct is to be defensive, but then logic falls over me like an icy storm.

None of that shit matters anymore.

I could never dance another eight-count as long as I live. Another statement I don’t wish to think about too hard.

“My left knee. But it was injured long before that performance.”

“Did you get it treated?”

I fidget with the dark waves of his hair, avoiding his searching gaze.

“Octavia—”

“No. I didn’t get it treated.” I sigh. It all sounds so pathetic now, given the current circumstances. “We are contractually obligated to provide all health records to the company directors, and I couldn’t afford for them to know I’m damaged goods. They’re already trying to phase me out, as is.”

“I don’t understand. You’re what, in your twenties?” he asks, bewildered.

“Twenty-one. That’s just the way it is, Vasiliy. They want you when you’re a prodigal teen, but the second you come into your adult body, the first sign of wear and tear, and they start looking for your replacement. Young girls are moldable. Impressionable. Adult women are not.”

“Perhaps I don’t want my little sister to enter that world, after all.”

A low laugh leaves my throat. “I doubt anything could stop her if she truly wanted to dance. Besides, I’m sure every career has a hidden underbelly that affects some more than others. For what it’s worth, I didn’t have anyone looking out for me. Not like she has you.”