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The moment she says it, the realization comes. “Are you related to Arturo DeVille?”
“He’s my brother.” She bites her lip. “You know Arturo?”
The underboss of the New York Cosa Nostra Family. Shit. I haven’t met Arturo DeVille, but Roman always makes sure the Bratva has intel on each and every person connected to us in any way.
“I’m a member of the Russian Bratva, mishka. Your don’s wife is the sister to the wife of one of our enforcers,” I say. “We need to call your brother right away and let him know you’re here.”
Asya’s body goes stone-still. “Please . . . don’t.”
“Why?” I ask as nausea suddenly comes over me. “Does he have something to do with what happened to you?”
She shakes her head, then wraps her arms around my neck and snuggles into my chest. “He probably thinks I’m dead. I want to keep it that way.”
“But, he’s your brother. He’s probably going nuts with worry.” I pass my hand through her dark brown strands. “You need to tell him you’re okay.”
“I’m not fucking okay!” she snaps, then climbs down off my lap and pins me with her gaze. “Those people have been pumping me full of drugs and selling my body for months. And I let them! I did nothing! What kind of pitiful being just lets that happen without fighting back?”
She’s crying while yelling. And I let her. Anger is good. Any kind of reaction is good. So, I don’t make a move. Don’t try to calm her down. I just sit on the edge of the bed and watch her in silence.
“Do you know that last night, when you found me, was the first time I tried to run away?” she continues. “You want me to tell my brother that? He raised me better than to be a fucking doormat! I would rather never see him again than have him learn what I allowed them to turn me into!”
She takes a deep breath and grabs my shirt off the floor near her feet. Stepping onto the edge of it she uses both hands to pull on the material, throwing her whole weight into her task, until the shirt rips. Then, she starts shredding it. I watch her in amazement. I thought she was meek and delicate, but as I observe her glorious rage, I realize how very wrong I was. There is fire in her and fierce life. The people who hurt her, who broke her spirit—they haven’t banished it completely. And I will find every single one of them and make them pay.
“I hate them! I hate them so much!” she roars and looks up at me. “And you? Why the fuck are you just sitting there? How can you simply be watching me have a mental breakdown and do nothing?” She throws a torn piece of material in my face and screams in frustration when I don’t make a move. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” She places her hands on my chest and shoves me. “Shouldn’t you try to calm me down?”
“No,” I say.
“No? You’ll just watch me fall apart?” she shoves at me again. Then one more time.
“You’re not falling apart, Asya.” I reach out and trace the line of her chin with my thumb. “You’re pulling yourself together.”
“Pulling together?” Her eyes widen, and she bursts into a fit of hysteric laughter. “When I woke up, I couldn’t decide if I should eat the eggs or marmalade! I couldn’t make the most basic decision. I spent twenty minutes staring at the stuff you left out on the counter and had to eat both because I couldn’t choose!”
The last words get lost in a fit of crying. Her shoulders sag and she looks down at her bare feet. Placing my forefinger under her chin, I tilt her head up until our eyes meet.
“What do you want?” I ask.
She blinks at me, and two tears slide down her cheeks.
“Do you want them dead?”
There is a sharp intake of breath, but she doesn’t reply. I reformulate my question into a statement.
“You want them dead.”
Squeezing her lips tightly together, she nods.
“They will die,” I say. “What else do you want?”
No reply.
“You don’t want your family to see you like this.”
Another nod.
“I’ll never be the person I was before,” she whispers.
“No. You won’t.” I lightly pinch her chin. “And that’s okay. They’ll love you just the same. What happened to you, changed you, Asya. It would change anyone. Irrevocably. You need to accept the person you’ve become. You’re still you. Changed, yes, but that shouldn’t keep you from the people who care about you.”
