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“Oh?” another man interjects. Vanya? “Before last night, I would have believed so. Before I learned that you baited him. Toyed with him. And her? You let her think you killed—”
“Enough.”
“Fine,” Vanya concedes. He’s changed his clothing and wiped the blood from his hands, but his haggard face betrays only exhaustion. “Play your game. But isthisnecessary?”
“You’rethe one who suggested I make her useful,” Mischa snaps. Cocking his head toward Vanya, he adds, “So here’s a chance for youbothto prove your loyalty. Do the job without word of it getting back to Sergei.”
“And her?”
“Get up,” Mischa hisses, this time directing the words at me.
I flinch as his arm lashes out in my direction. Rather than a blow, something lands inches from my face. Square. Small. Plastic. My brain scrambles to identify it. A credit card?
“I have a job for you,” he declares.
“J-Job?” I roll onto my side, biting back a groan. “What are you—”
“You’re no longer my captive,” he snaps, crossing his arms. “And with your husband dead, you’re no use to the Winthorps either. So I suggest you choose your next steps wisely. Work with me or take your chances out there.”
His words batter my exhausted brain. Deciphering them is like putting together a puzzle with jagged, razor-sharp pieces.
“So…then what am I?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “Why keep me?”
“Maybe you should ask how?” He raises an eyebrow. “How can you make yourself useful? Do what I fucking ask. Unless you think you can go crawling back to your precious Winthorps. With the son dead, maybe you can marry the father?”
I flinch. “So what do you want?”
“Go with Vanya,” he says, jerking his chin in the other man’s direction. “Buy a wardrobe fit to mourn your husband in. I’m tired of watching you sully my mother’s clothes.” He leaves, storming into the hallway.
“Don’t worry about him.” Sighing, Vanya comes to my side and hooks his hand beneath my shoulder, helping me to my feet. “Just move,” he urges, guiding me forward. “I’ve got you.”
The halls of the manor pass in a distorted blur. It’s almost as if I blink and we’re outside where the blazing sun reflects off a black van waiting at the foot of the steps. After fastening me inside the back seat, Vanya climbs in beside me.
“We’ve got at least an hour’s drive,” he says, casting a wary look at the manor behind us. “Get some sleep. Don’t ask questions. You don’t realize how lucky you are…”
But maybe I do. At least an hour, free from Mischa.
I couldn’t have prayed for that much…but it’s not a reprieve.
Time is just another weapon in his arsenal. Now I have longer to ponder what use he has for me now.
Because, without Robert, I’m useless to him.
And we both know it.
