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In profile, her face is all angles. There’s not a hint of softness here. When she twists, shifting her attention from the window to me, I hold my breath.
“The deeper you look into this,” she warns me, “the more pain it will bring.” The agony in her eyes has turned her sapphire irises pitch black. “Not just for you, devushka. But for everyone.”
15
GALINA
There’s a stranger in the house.
I lean over the railing near the staircase to get a better look. Blonde hair down to her hips, a fur-lined ivory coat that doesn’t hide how thin she is. She’s shorter than me; I can tell because she’s standing next to Mila and barely reaches her shoulder. Small. That’s the word I’d use to describe her. Not only in stature, but also in how she presents herself.
I’ve seen beaten dogs who shake less.
“Come on, Madison,” Mila says, her tone gentler than normal. “Arsen is upstairs.”
She’s here to see Arsen? Intrigued, I remain where I am on the stairs as the pair get closer. Mila sees me, her eyes going from wide to narrow. Madison, who has been pressing close to Mila like she’s a source of comfort, stops short at the sight of me. The young woman can’t be older than eighteen. Her face, unlike her thin body, has the roundness of youth.
“Did you need something?” Mila asks me with an edge.
Ignoring her, I smile kindly at Madison. “Hi there, I’m Galina.”
Madison shuffles her ankles together and doesn’t smile back. “Hi.” Her voice is light as air. I glance down at her feet on the stairs. Her shoes are old and chewed up, one of them missing a part of the shoelace so the tongue flops loosely.
Mila coughs in a clearly fake way. “Excuse us, we’ve got business to get to.”
“Yes. To meet with Arsen,” I call out, following them as they move past me to the landing above. From behind, Mila’s shoulders stiffen until they’re as still as a wall. Madison peers back at me while Mila stays looking forward. “Why?”
“This doesn’t concern you,” she replies coldly.
Except everything concerns me. And she knows that. More curious than ever, I squeeze by them, standing in the hallway—not quite blocking them with my body, but not letting them escape easily either. I offer Madison another sweet smile. But she looks terrified.
“How do you know Arsen?”
“I don’t,” she whispers.
Puzzled, I check Mila’s expression. For a second, I catch her looking at Madison with the immense, loving concern I saw earlier. But when she turns to me, her face grows cold again.
“Mila, do you know this girl?” I ask warily.
“No, but in a way,” she snaps. Her neck tightens. “I do.”
Both of them turn their gazes away from me toward the floor, as if they’re somehow able to see the same thing. Something that I can’t.
“Why are you taking her to see Arsen?” I ask.
Madison speaks up before Mila can. Her big brown eyes fix on me. “He’s going to help me.”
“How?”
“Madison …” Mila whispers, but she doesn’t interfere.
The blonde girl rubs her hands up and down the outsides of her frail arms. “I escaped a brothel owned by a terrible man.”
The pieces click into place as I look between Mila and Madison. There’s only one type of person Mila would be this protective of. “You’re one of the girls that he …”
Madison pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “Yes.”
Mila’s posture has shifted into someone ready to go to war. The tiny hairs on my neck prickle upward as she glares at me. I know I’m not why she’s upset, but being on the opposite end of her fury is terrifying.
