Page 42 of Nemesis

I can almost hear my sister’s excited voice bouncing against the dark walls as she shouts, the princess braid! Do the princess braid! I still remember how angry she got when I looked it up on the phone and showed her that, in fact, it was called a Dutch braid, not a princess braid. She was not swayed.

I tie off the end with the rubber band from her ponytail.

There’s a spot on her neck, so small it’s almost imperceptible in the darkness. Has that always been there? I rub it gently with my thumb, trying to figure out if it’s another one of those cute little freckles that dot her skin or just a speck of dirt from the floor. The corner of my lips curls when I lift my thumb, finding that tiny spot preserved.

I’m so fucked.

If we ever get free, can I even stomach returning to the life I left behind? All that’s waiting for me is an endless cycle of blackmail, orders, and different shades of blood pouring down a drain just like the one nailed into the floor a few feet away. I meant what I said before she slipped into her fitful sleep in my arms. I don’t want to run from her.

In fact, I’m not sure I’m capable of leaving her side. I can already feel the claws of my fixation settling into her soft skin. I don’t give a shit that I’ve only known her for a week. She bled for me.

She’s mine now.

And I’ve never been good at letting go.

For a moment, I give in to my imagination, envisioning a future in which Octavia comes over to teach Anya ballet. A future where the two of them become friends (I have no doubt my little sister will latch onto Octavia’s beauty and quick wit within minutes of meeting) and we have the chance to visit parks and terrorize restaurants and…

Unfortunately, the beautiful dream doesn’t last long, because soon I can hear the clicking of footsteps nearing the door.

Octavia startles immediately, already accustomed to the sound. I press my forehead to hers, hating the way her body shakes from the stimulus.

“Shh. We’ll be okay.”

The steps grow louder. Closer.

“Remember: no reactions, no sounds.”

She nods, and I reluctantly pull away, untangling our bodies and rising to my feet in front of her. It takes more effort than usual to control the reaction of my wild, thumping heart. My arms flex in preparation.

The doorknob turns, and the hinges shriek. I steel my spine and roll my shoulders. Slow, unbothered steps slap against the paved floor.

I know something’s wrong the moment he clicks on the light, a cruel smile on his face.

Because he’s not looking at me.

He strolls halfway through the room, stopping just outside the bars of our cage.

Each thump of my heart thunders through my blood.

In fact, I’m not sure he sees me at all.

“Hello, sweet girl.” A cold grin directed behind my shoulder. “I’m afraid today is your unlucky day.”

Thump.

My heart stops.

My unlucky day.

The wall scrapes at my back as I slowly rise to my feet.

Vasiliy’s entire posture shifts in front of me. I may not be able to see his face, but I can practically see his muscles ripple with anger. He seems to expand in the space, causing the shadows to shrink back into the cage walls.

My heart pumps something fierce as I fly through all the interpretations those words could mean. None look good.

“You won’t touch her,” Vasiliy starts. “She’s useless to you. I’m the one with all the information⁠—”

“Don’t be greedy. You’ve already had your turn, Morozov.” As soon as he says the words, his knuckles rap against the door he came in from. It flies open, familiar guards filing into the room. My eyes lock with one in particular, a bandage wrapped around his tan neck.