Page 32 of Sinful Devotion


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“It’s been ten years.”

Her chin dips until it touches her collarbone, eyes on the gravel at her feet. “Time isn’t enough to heal every wound.”

The snarl that passes my lips could have been made by an animal. Stalking around Ulyana, I swing my arms as I stride away from her. Each footfall creates more distance. By the time I’m near the exit of the gardens, her words should be softer than a moth’s wings. Instead, her voice is a bellow. It’s as if she’s on my back, talking right into my eardrum.

“Whether you want to admit it or not, you’ve never been able to confront what happened.”

Whirling around, I stare at her. She’s a speck of color among the roses. Her solemn face watches me. Ulyana has the power to rend my heart with a few cutting words. I have nothing to say in return. Even if she gave me days to prepare, I wouldn’t know how to respond.

Quickening my pace, I leave her behind. The leaves around me grow denser, roses pressing in on me like my world is shrinking. As fast as I walk, I can’t escape her foreboding comments. Thorns snag me, drawing blood, but I ignore them. Pain on the outside is nothing. It’s the internal pain that makes my confidence buckle.

The past is meaningless. I was haunted once, but not anymore.

I live in the present. I won’t look back.

If I do, I’ll risk seeing things that could break me.

A face flashes through my memories. Gentle hands cradle mine, a warmth greater than the sun promising me pure joy … assuring me a future flush with endless bliss.

The hands grow cold.

They slip through my grip.

Another thorn slices my skin. The memories are changing, warping into a darkness that creates waves in my guts. Gunfire parades in my vision. Fire, flames, smoke. Men dying as they choose sides.

I remember becoming the pakhan of the Grachev Bratva. I remember receiving the inked stars on my knees and shoulders. The power they brought … the rage that drove me to claim the throne. The cost of everything far higher than I could have ever predicted.

Stumbling from my garden, I wheeze heavily, hands resting on my thighs. Bent in half, I look up at my massive mansion. Galina’s window is easy to find. I know every room here, inside and out. I can’t see her, but the way she looked earlier as she walked the rows of wedding dresses is a strong image in my brain. The nervous way she touched the fabric … When I think of it now, I feel a strange sense of protectiveness.

I don’t want her to be afraid.

I see it now; Galina in the dress she chose, standing in the aisle, smiling at me. It’s easy to imagine. After days of her bared teeth, I saw the potential for her happiness. It happened last night when she bit into the chocolate chip cookies. I brought her that gift; I made her come alive. That power was addictive.

A joy comparable to the bitter memory that refuses to fade swallows my heart. Gripping my shirt, I clench my jaw until my skull throbs. Everything Ulyana said floods back to me. The past … my demons … the torture of it all.

Is the future I’m choosing going to ravage what’s left of my soul?

I want Ulyana to be wrong. As I stare at Galina’s window, recalling the war that’s on my doorstep … the inevitable bloodshed …

I don’t believe she is.

13

GALINA

I open my eyes, blearily gazing around my bedroom. At first, I don’t notice the young woman hovering at my bedside. When I do, I throw my blankets back and fall off the mattress with a scream.

“Please.” She lifts her hands to show she’s not armed. “Calm down!”

“Who are you?” I demand, rising to my feet, clutching my silver silk nightgown. “What do you want?”

The woman is my age, or close to it. She’s wearing the same starched dress that every other staff member wears. Her pale blonde hair, light as corn fibers, makes her tan skin seem richer. “Miss, I’m Masha. I’m your attendant this morning.”

“My what?” Looking from side to side nervously, in case there are others hiding in my room, I approach her around my bed. “I don’t need an attendant.”

“Of course you do.” She blinks, giving me a stare that hints she thinks I’m the weird one. “You’re the future wife of Mr. Isakov.”

Hearing that makes my whole body flush. “So what? He’s the boss here, not me.”

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