Page 33 of Savage Truce

How can I mourn something that never truly belonged to me?

All those times I heard Ms. Fedorova talk about Volkov, she was probably referring to Rodian. Jesus, I never knew he was Grandfather’s underboss. Instead of figuring it out, I wove stupid fantasies around the enemy.

The corner of his mouth lifts as he comes closer, but it doesn’t make him look less scary. “You seem to be doing better today. How do you feel?”

I don’t know. How am I supposed to feel after being abused, humiliated, and almost killed?

Wrapping my arms around myself, I rub up and down my biceps as I whisper, “Okay.”

He sits down beside me, and it has me pulling my legs to the side so we don’t touch. Lowering my gaze, I have no idea how to interact with him and begin to feel very unnerved.

“Where do we start?” he asks, but it doesn’t really sound like a question, then he says, “You have your father’s last name. Donovan.”

I nod, still keeping my eyes averted.

“You were raised in the UK and brought back here the night after we met, then you dropped off the face of the planet. You didn’t touch your bank account again, and there’s no digital footprint of you. Fill me in on what happened.”

Knowing he’s the pakhan and refusing to answer won’t end well for me, I keep my tone respectful as I answer, “Because I was turning twenty-one, Ms. Fedorova came to get me. I was taken to my grandfather, but he wasn’t happy with me, so Ms. Fedorova took me to the country house where I was her maid for the last five years.”

Up until now, his tone has been controlled, but when he speaks again, it’s rough and deep. “A maid? Why do you call your mother Ms. Fedorova?”

I bristle from the anger simmering in his words and curl into myself as I whisper, “That’s what she told me to call her.”

Suddenly, Rodian reaches for my face, and I flinch hard, a peeping sound escaping me. My eyes fly to his, and seeing the anger etched in hard lines across his rugged features fills me with terror. My heartbeat speeds up drastically, and my mouth quickly grows dry as breaths burst over my lips.

Moving slower, he cups my cheek while shaking his head. “I won’t hurt you, Anastasia. You’re safe with me.”

I don’t believe that for one second.

“You took over the Bratva.” Fear trembles in my voice. “I’m your enemy.”

He shakes his head again, his thumb brushing over my skin and making tingles spread under his touch. The sensation catches me completely off guard because I haven’t felt anything good in a really long time.

“We’re not enemies,” he says. “If Yegor weren’t so stubborn and hid you from me, an arranged marriage between us could’ve stopped the war.”

Hearing that he would’ve been willing to marry me has me gaping at him as if he’s lost his mind.

“What’s the weird expression on your face?”

“My grandfather was ashamed of me. It’s just… funny, for lack of a better word, that the one thing he rejected could’ve saved his life.”

“Right?” He lets out a dark-sounding chuckle, sending a fresh wave of fear through me.

I glance away, and it has Rodian saying, “Don’t do that. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, I return my gaze to his face, which is even more handsome than I remember, even though he looks dangerous as hell.

“Why was Yegor ashamed of you?”

The humiliation I’ve been forced to endure makes my cheeks grow warm. “They wanted a skinny and perfect Bratva princess. No man would want to marry…” I almost say fat but hate the word and instead finish with, “…someone who looked like me. I was of no use to the family.”

Glancing down at my stomach rolls that are visible under the shirt even though I’ve lost a lot of weight, I suppress the urge to cover them with the bedsheets.

I used to love my body, but being a plus-size woman repeatedly made me a target, and now it feels like something I have to hide in order to stay safe.

“That’s bullshit,” Rodian growls, his fingers moving to my chin and tipping my face up so I’ll look at him again. Rage burns in his eyes, making tremors rack through me. “When I laid eyes on you in that theater, you were the first woman ever to capture my attention.” He leans closer, commanding all my attention. “And you were impossible to forget.”

Instead of feeling flattered, his words only remind me of what I’ve lost and make me want to cry.