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He crept into my room and urged me to hide. In the process, he gave me the mantra that saw me through years of torment.Breathe.
“But do you know why we were really there, Sergei and I?” He circles around my position and braces his hands against the table from the opposite end. “Ask.”
“Why?”
“Revenge,” he says simply. “We weren’t aiming to merely whisk Briar away, oh no…”
His eyes darken in a way I’ve never seen before. It makes him look tired in a sense. A man who’s seen a lifetime of horrors and hasn’t forgotten a single one.
An ominous thrill runs down my spine as I brace my hands over the table’s surface. “What were you going to do?”
His jaw clenches as if to reinforce the grim statement he utters. “We were going to slaughter the girl in her bed, Little Rose. Butcher her into pieces.”
I wait for a laugh. A scoff. Anything.
As twisted as he can be, no man could be that cruel.
That evil.
But I wait in vain—he won’t spoon-feed me this story.
I have to demand it. “Why?”
“As a warning and a lesson,” he replies. “Don’t ever fuck with the Vasilevs.”
