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She nudges against my chest, softly at first, and then with increasing insistence. Reluctantly, I let her go, watching in dismay as she slips back until she’s sitting as far away from me as possible. Pressed against the window, she turns and glares at me with wide, shining eyes. The moment feels familiar, and it takes me a heartbeat to realize that it’s just like the first time I dragged her away from Tsar’s.
The memory of that first night hangs as clear as a knife in my mind. She acted like I was a wolf, ready to tear her apart. I was equally suspicious of her motives and her reliability. Trust wasn’t even a word that existed between us that night. She was a mystery to me, and I a threat to her.
Somewhere along the way, the walls between us came down and we allowed each other a glimpse of our true selves hidden underneath.
But right now, those walls have come back up.
And it pains me to think that this time, those walls might be permanent.
“When we get back home,” I say, “tell me everything that’s happened. All of it.”
Galina turns from me to look out the tinted window. Her palm presses against it, dragging down until it leaves steamy streaks in its trail. When she speaks, her voice is cold and even.
“I’ll tell you whatever will help me get my mom back.”
The hair rises on the back of my neck at the way she phrases it.
What the hell did Yevgeniy do to her? What did he tell her? Most importantly … what is she hiding from me?
6
GALINA
I don’t have a home anymore.
That’s the only thought running through my head as I stare up at the familiar sight of Arsen’s mansion. The car rumbles along the driveway. The spiked gates look exactly as I remember. The yards with trimmed grass, the distant rose garden, the extravagant water fountains, and the perfect painted exterior …
Nothing has changed since I was here.
But I have.
Both Yevgeniy and my mother are vying for my attention inside my head. Each of them whispers their own warning in the back of my mind.
He was supposed to keep my boy safe. And instead, he killed him.
Our monsters may wear different faces. But they’re the same.
I want to silence the voices in my head, but I can’t.
Once we park, Arsen clambers out to help me from the car. I ignore him to step out on my own. A wave of déjà vu washes over me. It feels just like the first time I arrived here. I rejected his offer that time as well. The only thing missing is the blindfold he placed over my eyes.
His face betrays no emotions—but I know he’s trying to hide his thoughts from me. His boeviki stand at attention, waiting for instruction. Arsen glares, releasing his frustration on them instead of me.
“Pay attention. You know your duty.”
They dip their heads in acknowledgment before they return to standing as still as statues. I head for the front door, and Arsen matches my pace.
“There should be clean clothes in your room,” he says when we pass the threshold.
The air inside is chilly, almost as if the heater isn’t running full force. I’m grateful that I still have my jacket—thin as it is.
“Ulyana will have made sure your bed is ready for you,” he continues. “If you like, I can have someone draw you a hot bath; just say the word.”
But I’m barely listening. My eyes trace the familiar sight of the main room, trying to force me to feel the sensation of comfort I desperately long for.
But all I feel is hollowness.
The studio burned down. My mother and I were forced to flee my childhood home. Then we found ourselves stolen away from what was supposed to be a safe house in a game played by those who had their own aims. All of that just to be taken and then shuttled from one random house to another by the monster who laid claim to us.
