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Chapter 25
Ithought the day I lost my mother taught me what pain was. Even losing Eli the first time. My heart shattered, but I could still bear it and pull myself from the darkness.
I could make myself numb to reality and cushion myself within the bars of my cage.
But now…there is no more hiding and no shelter from the truth.
Even hearing it said out loud—the fact that Mischa could be gone—makes everything go black. When sensation returns, I’m on my knees, wrapped in the arms of someone whose silent sobs rack my body.
But I just stare blankly, eyeing a spot on the wall as Misha’s voice echoes in my thoughts on a constant loop.Be on guard. Be on guard.
Don’t trust him…
“I’m sorry,” Sergei says, but something in his voice makes me bury my face into Anna’s shoulder and obscure my expression from him. “We tried to recover the bodies, but it was too late. I’m sorry.”
Anna continues to sob.
But I just listen. Mischa said that the night I went missing, Sergei put on a good show, but something was off. And I can hear it in his voice now.
He isn’t gloating.
But he isn’t devastated, either.
He’s merely resigned.
And I feel that gnawing, consuming paranoia itching at my psyche, keeping true grief at bay.
He knows more than he’s letting on.
And I can’t fall apart now.
So, biting my lip, I lock the pain away. I keep the tears at bay, and I guard my heart against anything that might threaten its fragile surface.
Even if it kills a part of me.
* * *
Anna brings me to my room, her arms protectively around me. “Do you need me to stay with you?” she asks, choking her own sobs back. Blazing with concern, she scans my face and eases stray bits of hair from it. “I can—”
“No.” I shake my head and turn from her, clinging to the door for balance. “Stay with Eli.”
Once alone, I run my fingers along my face, surprised that there aren’t any tears there to wipe away.
I wait long enough to hear Anna’s steps retreat. Then I reenter the hall and descend the stairs. Unsurprisingly, I find Sergei alone in the drawing room, his back to me.
“What happened?” I demand hoarsely. “Tell me.”
“It was an ambush.” Turning to me, he sighs, raking his hands through his graying hair. “Winthorp must have anticipated our arrival. I did everything I could—”
“How did they die?”
He cocks his head at my tone, but finally, he unhooks his jaw. “We were separated,” he says. “Unfortunately, when Robert’s men retreated, I knew that—”
“That your man had done his job?”
“Ellen?” His eyes widen and narrow in rapid succession as my heart pounds a frantic rhythm against my rib cage. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean…”
“You let Robert take me.” It sounds insane. I’m not even sure it’s the truth—not until I see his expression harden. My heart solidifies into a throbbing, aching mass. Mischa was right. “Not for good,” I add, still putting the pieces of my suspicion together. “You planned on retrieving me again. You had a man planted there and an easy route for him to enter my room via the vents—”
