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Robert would never let me go.
Maybe Mischa and Sergei are right in their own twisted way. There is only one method to ever fully eradicate the threat from the Winthorps.
Once and for all.
“Don’t look so disappointed.” Mischa swipes his finger along my chin. “I’ll save your chosen prey for last. You can drive the spike through his neck.”
I cringe at the imagery and brush my fingers along my jaw, tracing the remnants of Robert’s last assault. “And if I don’t want to?”
Am I talking to Mischa or myself?
“You want to,” he replies regardless. “Oh yes. You fucking want to.”
I turn away and head for the door. “We should talk to Vanya… Anna. Maybe she knows something about what Robert is planning.”
Deep down, I know she doesn’t. On her face, I saw the same doe-eyed expression I assume Mischa did the day he captured me. The stark, naked terror of a bird freshly freed from her cage.
Regardless, he says nothing, though I sense him behind me.
Vanya and Anna are still in the small sitting room. They’re sitting as close together as they can, their hands clasped, their foreheads meeting. The boy is asleep on Anna’s lap. When she spots me, she stiffens and her arms go protectively around him.
“Ellen,” she says, her voice hoarse. “Is that your name? Ellen?” She looks to Vanya for clarification and he nods. “I want to thank you for—”
“Don’t,” I say thickly. “You don’t have to.”
“But I must.” Sighing, she turns to Mischa. “I can’t believe… I can’t believe I’m really here—”
“Where did they keep you all this time?” he asks, his tone awkwardly gentle, as if he can’t remember quite how to sound comforting. There’s a hesitance in him he’s never displayed, not even around Mouse. “They told us you were dead,” he adds. “If I would have known, I would have done everything I could to—”
“I know.” Anna eyes the child sleeping in her arms and strokes his hair. “They kept me at Winthorp Manor at first. I think so anyway. It’s all a blur, those early days.”
Her knuckles whiten as she fingers a blond curl and then smooths it carefully into place.
“They beat me at first. I thought they were going to kill me, but one day…” She breaks off as if reliving the memory. Her eyes widen and she removes her trembling hands from the boy and balls them into fists. “The older Winthrop. He came into my cell, and all he said to me was, ‘My wife is the only reason you’re still alive.’”
“Robert, Sr.?” Mischa asks, sounding to me as if he’s miles away. “Hiswife?”
A torrent of blood surges through my ears as everything fades.
And all I see is her face.
“Marnie Winthorp,” I say. “Her?”
“Yes.” Anna nods. “I guess she made him keep me alive.”
I blink rapidly, bringing more of the world into focus. The room. Vanya. Mischa. Both of them are staring at me. Watching me.
“They moved me after that,” Anna continues. “I don’t know where. It was isolated. They never visited much in those early days, but they didn’t hurt me, either.”
“One of their outposts?” Vanya asks Mischa.
The other man nods. “Most likely.”
“I wasn’t beaten or anything worse,” Anna reiterates. She stares at nothing and I suspect she’s speaking more for her own benefit than anyone else’s. “They just kept me in a room alone, for years. So many years…” Tears well in her eyes, but she blinks them back. Her lips part into a breathtaking smile as she stares down on the boy in her arms. “If it weren’t for him, I would have gone insane.”
“What’s his name?” Vanya leans forward and brushes his fingers along the boy’s side. His wizened features soften for a brief instant and he looks years younger.
“His name?” Anna’s gaze darts in my direction and then quickly flits away. “E-Eli,” she says. “His name is Eli. Do you remember, Papa?” She croaks a watery laugh. “I always used to say that I would name my firstborn after—”
