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“He’s more like Katya, then?”
“They have the same exact smile.” That brings a twinge of melancholy. “It’s a little surreal.”
“I saw some similarity to you too.” Bracing his free hand on the bed, Arsen leans back until he’s gazing at the ceiling. “You only spent a few days with him, but you’re convinced he doesn’t take after his father?”
“Why do you need to know?” I ask warily.
He drops an eye on me. His tone is bleak. “Because it’s important.”
I don’t like how that sounds. Not at all. Placing my palm heavily on his knee, I squeeze just enough that his muscles tighten and his attention drops to what I’m doing.
“Why, Arsen? What does it matter if Ruslan is more like my mom or Yevgeniy?”
“It’s my job to understand our enemies so I can keep us safe. Keep you safe, Galina.”
“Enemies…” I pull my hands away from him with a scowl. “Arsen, how many times do I have to tell you that he’s just a child?”
I scoot further across the mattress to create distance. His eyes narrow as he notices, and his voice is clipped.
“Every boy grows up into a man one day. Maybe he’s a killer in the making. Maybe Yevgeniy will come to the surface sooner rather than later. When you were around him, did he act entitled? Did he give off any indication that he expects to get his way, and if?—”
“Stop it!” Leaping off the bed, I clutch my nightgown tightly around my body. “I’m not someone you can interrogate at your leisure!”
He hunches in my direction with a scowl. “I’m not interrogating you.”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing.”
His eyes widen, the black dots of his pupils shrinking until they’re pinpoints. Winding his fingers in the blanket, he remains seated, but I know he wants to stand and follow me. He feels the space between us the same way I do. It’s cold, empty, troubling. But this discussion is worse.
“Galina … I’m just trying to protect you.”
“Please, go.” I point at the door, not moving my eyes from his. I won’t be challenged. I’m not going to fold to his demands anymore. “I need some space to think.”
The lines by his nose deepen, and his jaw draws downward. “You don’t understand that you’re walking straight down a shooting range. There are guns all around, and people are fingering the triggers. Don’t be so willfully oblivious.”
“You keep saying you’re trying to protect me.” My nails burrow into the flesh of my upper arms when they cross over my chest. “From whom? Myself?”
“If I must,” he says plainly.
I can’t hug myself any harder than I already am. Desperate for comfort, I face the window. There’s nothing outside, but I look anyway. “I see how it is.”
“Galina,” he growls.
“Are you going to sit there and force me to answer your questions until you’re satisfied? I thought I was your wife, not your prisoner.”
The bed shifts loudly, the headboard colliding with the wall from how fast he jumps to his feet behind me. “You are my wife!”
Curling in on myself, I fight the urge to become a tiny ball. I make sure my chin and head are held as high as possible. “You’d never guess it from how you’re treating me. Yevgeniy kept me confined too, or did you forget that?”
Arsen says nothing. In the window, I catch a glimpse of his reflection. The massive man is shrinking … his head lowering, his hands dangling; he’s doing exactly what I’m trying not to. The shock of my words is sinking in.
“I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.” He vanishes from my view when he moves toward the door. It’s a challenge not to turn and watch. I hate what he’s saying, and I also hate not seeing him. Even when I’m upset, his existence is a comfort.
The doorknob clicks as he grips it. “But I meant what I said. I want to keep you safe at all costs.”
When I don’t respond, he closes the door behind him.
On impulse, I hurry over and lock the door. It’s like I’m protecting myself from doing something stupid. If he comes back, you’ll forgive him. You can’t do that, not until you think this through. He said a lot of things, and all of them have to be dissected.
