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“No.” He tugs on my hair, forcing me to face him again. “I’m impatient, Little Rose. As I said before, give me what I want and I’ll let you have a little taste of the one thing you’ve convinced yourself all along that you didn’t crave.”
“And what is that?”
His teeth flash. “Power.”
“Really?” A mocking laugh sticks in my throat. “Youcrave power.”
“Bullshit,” Mischa counters. “You want it, all right. You just don’t know how to fucking reach out and take it. But I can show you—”
“Oh?” I fail at bravado; my voice is a dry rasp. “And how will you do that?”
He smirks, and this time, the expression unnerves me even more. “I’ll put some right in the palm of your greedy, fucking hands.”
He eyes the hands in question, still grinning. Then, all at once, his mouth falls flat as footsteps approach and the door opens from the other side.
“Mischa,” Vanya calls, his expression wary. “You were right. Winthorp has his men staked out for at least ten miles in either direction. He’s blocking us in.”
“Good.” Mischa shrugs and passes him to enter the adjoining room, where a tiny body lies bundled on the couch.
The girl. I don’t think I breathe until I notice her chest rise and fall with labored breaths. She’s alive.
“He’s planning another attack—but he’ll try to isolate her first. So let him think he’s won,” Mischa suggests to Vanya. “In fact…” He turns to me, a mocking half smile on his lips. “I’ll even let him get a taste of his prize.”
“How?” Vanya wonders.
“Wait ten minutes and then lead the men west,” Mischa says. Then he grabs my arm and drags me through a door that opens onto a narrow porch. One of the vans is parked nearby and he shoves me toward it before returning inside the house.
Seconds later, a low cry draws my attention to the doorway. Bundled in Mischa’s arms is the girl, so pale that she practically glows in the faint sunlight.
“What are you doing?” I’ve stepped toward him without realizing it, my hands outstretched as if I mean to grab the girl from him.
Raising an eyebrow, Mischa descends the steps, barreling past me. “I’d concern yourself with whatyouare doing, Robert’s wife,” he grunts as he shoulders open the door to the back of the van and gingerly sets the girl on the farthest back seat. Crouching beside her, he looks at me and jerks his chin to the driver’s seat. “She needs a doctor, andyouare going to get her safely to one. Drive.”
Icy shock paralyzes me. “You’re insane,” I croak.
“Yeah.” He nods. “That’s how I’ve fucking survived this long, Little Rose. Now, get in the fucking van—”
“No.” I’m already backing away, shaking my head. “I can’t drive.”
Something crosses his face too quickly to track. Shock?
“Well, today, you’re going to learn.”
My heart stops as he lunges from the van and I’m reminded of just how big he really is: a towering hulk of sinew and muscle. He grabs my shoulder and steers me to the driver’s seat only to shove me onto it.
“Gas,” he grunts, pointing to a metal knob jutting above the floor. “Brake.” He points to another knob beside the first. “Just keep us on the fucking road.”
He slams the door after me only to climb into the seat directly behind mine.
“Now, drive.” His breath bastes the back of my neck like a furnace, impossible to ignore. “And,” he adds, “if you think of stopping to pay your husband a little visit, think again.”
A hard surface nudges the back of my skull, a warning.
“Now, go.”
“H-how?” My shaking fingers can barely grip the steering wheel.
“Turn it on,” Mischa prompts, his tone oddly patient for once. “Like this.” Reaching over me, he twists a key already in the ignition and the van roars to life.
