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The memory of our past rises like bile in the back of my throat. She was a tiny little thing once, sobbing in terror and pain as she prayed for a savior to rescue her from the endless nightmare of her own existence.
She won’t be satisfied until she gets her revenge—a revenge that I’ve denied her. Looking down my nose at her, I nod. “I had to check.”
“You should’ve never doubted,” she reminds me.
There’s a noise at the top of the stairs. Light filters down the steps. “Arsen?” Galina calls. “Are you down here?”
Mila snaps her eyes to mine, then we both stare at Mikhail’s corpse. “Stall her,” I whisper.
She obeys, darting up the stairs to intercept Galina before she can enter the cellar enough to see what we’ve done. I can’t allow her to see this. Even though Galina knows I’m a killer, I don’t want her to see that I’ve brought that home. The same home where we plan to raise our child.
She already thinks I’m a monster.
“Mila,” I hear Galina stutter.
“Nice to see you, Galina Yevgeniyevna,” Mila drawls.
That patronymic makes me stiffen like wood. When Sergei screamed it out in the safe house before we were interrupted by bullets, I was able to ignore it. But now? Hearing it from Mila’s lips makes me feel ill. Checking myself, I note a single spot of blood on my jacket. I yank it free, throwing it on Mikhail before adding a canvas sheet—one meant to protect the wine from dust—on top. The corpse in the chair is nothing but an odd lump now. Easy to ignore.
I rush to block Galina on the stairs. “Galina,” I say.
She squints down at me from her higher position. Her face is sour—I don’t know if it’s because of Mila’s comment or her suspicion of what we were doing in the cellar.
“What were you two up to?”
“Nothing.” I shoot a look at Mila. She rolls her eyes with a slight grin. Taking Galina’s hand, I walk past her, tugging her gently but firmly upstairs. “Mila, you can go; we’re done here.”
“What are you done with?” Galina asks sharply.
Ignoring her question, I lead us back up into the light. The wintry sun is unusually bright, making it feel like an entirely different world from the dark cellar coated in blood. How fitting. My home is split in half by the civil section that acts as a front for the world … And underneath the light is the half that lurks with the demons of my awful actions.
I have to keep the two separated. For Galina’s sake. I have to keep her from seeing the demons that lurk just within the walls.
Mila starts following us out. But I turn back, give her another look, and shut the door.
If cutting off the demons is impossible, I’ll settle for locking them away.
12
GALINA
“What were you two up to down there?” I ask again, though it sounds less like a question and more like a demand.
They were clearly up to something in the cellar. Why else chase me out? Why else keep Mila from following? The last time I was among the wine casks, it was to have a secret meeting with Audrey. That place is designed for secrets.
And I’m not naive enough to ignore that when the Bratva is involved, secrets can hurt.
Secrets can kill.
Arsen is wearing a basic black button-up shirt. The kind he normally would pair with a jacket, especially in this weather. His hand is still on mine. And I don’t pull away, not yet. Not until I know where things are heading.
“We found out that Yevgeniy has restarted his brothels,” he finally says.
Horror jolts through my bones. “How did you learn that?”
He stares at the ceiling briefly before he turns to me. “Mila told me.” He pauses a beat, like he expects more questions from me. Before I ask any, he adds, “It can’t stand. We have to shut it down.”
“But how will you do that?”
