Page 37

I remember standing in my room that night, deciding I was reading too much into a slightly odd conversation, congratulating myself on not being paranoid, proud of myself for staying reasonable instead of letting old instincts run wild over nothing.

I was right the first time. My instincts were right, and I overrode them.

The staff moves on down the hall, voices fading, neither of them aware I ever heard a word. I stand there a moment longer, my heart slamming hard enough that I can feel it in my throat, piecing together everything I brushed past without a second thought.

The hallway. The tray. The question about how long I’ve lived here, phrased like he already half knew the answer.

He was watching me the whole time. I think about every meal he brought up, every hallway I passed him in without a second thought, and my skin crawls retroactively at how close I let him get without ever raising a real alarm.

The staff moves on down the hall, voices fading into some other conversation entirely, and I stand there in the quiet they leave behind, my whole body still catching up to what I just heard. I don’t remember deciding to move. I find myself walking, fast, toward the one place in this house where I can actually get answers.

I find myself standing in the doorway, breathing hard like I ran the whole distance, Artem looking up from his desk. He stands before I get the first sentence out.

“There was a man in this house spying on me.” My voice comes out shaking, more from fury than fear at this point, though both are tangled together too tightly to separate fully. “Reporting to the Sokolovs. And Yuri killed him. In the basement.”

Artem’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t deny any of it. “Harper…”

“Don’t.” I cut him off, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “I heard it from two staff members gossiping in a hallway. That’s how I found out.”

“I was going to tell you eventually, once things were more settled.”

“When?” The word comes out sharp enough that he actually flinches. “When were you going to tell me that someone was living in this house, watching me, reporting my routine to people who want to hurt me? Before or after I found out some other way? Before or after they actually got to me?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and the silence only makes it worse. “I was handling it already, quietly, the way I handle everything.”

“That’s not the same as telling me.” My voice cracks, and I hate that it does, hate that the anger keeps sliding into something rawer underneath it. “You keep doing this. Deciding what I get to know and when!”

“I was trying to protect you from panicking. It’s already been resolved.”

“It wasn’t resolved for me. I didn’t even know it existed.” I take a step further into the room. “Someone was in the kitchen every day, bringing me food, asking me questions, and you found out he was spying on me and didn’t say a word.”

“I didn’t want you carrying that fear on top of everything else.”

“That’s not your call to make.” My voice breaks on the last word, and I press the heel of my hand against my eye before anything falls.

His jaw works, and he looks away first, toward the window instead of at me, like the wall gives him somewhere to put whatever he’s not saying yet.

“You’re right.” The words come out low. “I should have told you myself.”

“Yes. You should have.” I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly exhausted. “I need you to understand that. Not just say it because it’ll get me to stop yelling at you.”

“I do understand it.”

“Do you?” I search his face. “Because this is the second time you’ve decided I don’t need to know something that’s actually about me. My own life. My own safety. I need this to be the last time it happens.”

He doesn’t answer, and I don’t wait for him to find the words. My knees feel wrong under me all of a sudden, like I’ve been standing too long without noticing, and I reach out to brace a hand against the doorframe on my way out.

I turn and walk out of the study, my whole body still shaking, leaving him standing there.

25

ARTEM

I give her an hour to cool off before looking for her. In the meantime, I call Yuri and tell him to find out which two staff were talking in the hallway earlier, loud enough that Harper heard details about Tomas she was never supposed to hear secondhand.

I don’t raise my voice giving the instruction, but I don’t have to. They will be gone from this house by morning, severance paid, no explanation owed to either one beyond the fact that discretion isn’t optional for anyone working under this roof.

It doesn’t fix what already happened. It’s the only part of tonight I can actually do something about right now.