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Chapter 5
We redress in silence and return to the house just as the moon rises to its highest point in the sky. Vanya still waits by the front door, watchfully eyeing the dark. As we slip inside, he casts us both a searching glance.
Once again, his gaze skims over me and settles on someone else.
“Mischa.” He places his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “We need to talk—”
“If this is about leaving, I agree,” Mischa says, shoving me through the doorway ahead of him. “We move out early. I’ll take the lead. You pick up the rear and then we’ll regroup—”
“That’s not what I mean.” Vanya sighs and I catch his gaze dart down the hall leading deeper into the house. “There is something—”
“What?” Mischa strokes his chin. “Are you worried about Sergei? Maybe we shouldn’t inform the old man just yet. Not until we have a clear route.”
“I have a suggestion.” That voice…
My shock matches Mischa’s as none other than Sergei appears at the mouth of the hall.
“Speak of the devil,” Mischa growls under his breath. His grip on my arm tightens and I can feel the tension radiating off him in waves.
“Sorry to intrude,” the older man says, though his expression reveals no ounce of guilt. He approaches us at a cautious pace, dressed head to toe in a practical black outfit that sets him apart from Mischa’s filthy fatigues. “But I think it will be more prudent if a group of my men leads the way. Then you can follow. With Winthorp on the prowl, you should center your retreat around his biggest target.”
“Oh?” Mischa raises an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”
“Who,” Sergei corrects, turning to me. “Her.”
“And let me guess. That biggest threat will stay with you?”
“No.” Sergei shakes his head, raising his hands in a subtle sign of surrender. “I’ll go with my men.”
The two men eye each other, tension crackling between them.
“It’s a good plan, Mischa,” Vanya pipes up. He moves, positioning himself between his brother and his surrogate son. “I say we use his method and move out tomorrow night. That will give us time to plan a safe route.”
“Fine.” Eyes flashing, Mischa flexes his arm, dragging me closer to his side. “But she will stay withmeandyouwill lead the way.”
“Fair enough.” Sergei nods. “As Ivan suggested, we can move tomorrow night, before the sun rises.”
“Fine.” Mischa releases me and barges deeper into the house, barking out orders.
Seemingly from nowhere, his men converge on the narrow space, pushing the limits of the cottage to their max. Once Mischa’s plan is relayed in detail, they disperse to carry out their given orders and I can feel their leader’s eyes on me as I make my way to the stairs.
“Wait.”
I stiffen with one foot braced on the lower step. He takes his time coming up behind me. His finger teasingly ghosts my cheek before his entire hand pulls a lock of hair back from my face.
“Look at me.”
He’s frowning when I do, scanning my gaze. For what? I’m not sure. Only that the hunt for it hollows his features, and the line of his mouth is tighter as he turns away.
“Go run up to bed, Little Rose,” he commands. “Maybe if you pray hard enough, the monsters will stay out of it tonight.”
I obey, racing up the stairs. Once inside my small room, I find myself paralyzed by the sight of the rumpled bed, its blankets strewn all over the floor.
In the end, I brace my back against the wall and sink down to my knees, forsaking the comfort of the mattress.
The cold floor, with its covering of dust, is more welcome than any ounce of softness containing his scent.
Even if it means I suffer.
