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He moves past me for the door, but before he crosses the threshold, I call out, “You claim you wouldn’t use children, but what about Briar Winthorp?”
“Briar.” He stiffens with one foot still in the air. “What about her?”
Something in his tone makes me blurt my words out with no ounce of tact. “You were willing to have her killed when Anna-Natalia was taken. Weren’t you?”
It sounds so evil when paired with Misha’s supposed crimes. Ruthless.
But Sergei doesn’t flinch. “What could I possibly gain from the death of a little girl?”
Without giving me the chance to ponder that, he leaves.
On the surface, he has a point.
But the answer doesn’t take long for me to settle on. What could a man like him gain? Nothing material, perhaps. Not money or Winthorp prestige.
But I know firsthand what the death of a child could do to a woman.
You could break her irreparably.
You could change her loyalties.
And perhaps the cruelest aim of all: you could punish her.
