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“The same way you protected my sister?” she asks bitterly. “Where is she?”
My silence is her answer.
Emma’s face contorts with anger. “You can’t protect her, and I can protect myself. At least better than anyone else has. Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not a helpless, idiotic girl.”
I sigh. She’s as stubborn as her sister. Made worse by the false sense of immortality that comes with youth.
“You may doubt the truth,” I reply.
“The truth?” She scoffs. “I’m lucky I’m not dead like my mom. We had nothing to worry about until you showed up in our lives. Then we have a bunch of thugs surrounding the house and a dead guy on our kitchen floor.”
“We’re not thugs,” Victor growls, staring her down. “Watch your mouth.”
I shush the boy. “You think I’m responsible for your mother’s death?” I ask her.
“Would it have happened if you didn’t marry Paige?”
I can’t answer her, and the person responsible is still at large. It could have been a botched robbery, but it was more likely a hit. If it was a hit, why now and not before? Cynthia Reyes never talked about the Bratva, so why silence her? It must have been because of me, and I still haven’t done anything about it.
“I want to see my dad.” Emma glares at Viktor, who concentrates hard on ignoring her. “I know you took him.”
“That can’t happen,” I reply sternly. “Not yet.”
Emma is on her feet, advancing toward me like an avenging fury before we know it. Viktor stands up as Dmitri smirks at the scene. Silently, I motion to Viktor to sit down. Emma lifts her chin and stares into my stony eyes, and unmoved, I allow her this one offense because she is my sister-in-law.
Her courage falters. She swallows loudly and stands tall, but she’s not discouraged.
“I have a right to see him,” she insists. Her desperation rises along with her demands. “He’s dying, you asshole. You might bully Paige, but you won’t do that shit to me. Do you understand? Take me to him! Now.”
I stare at her during her tirade, and the difference between our situations strikes me. Emma wants to see her father, and I wanted nothing to do with mine. Maybe if I had loved my father, I’d have a bit of sympathy for her. But I didn’t, and because of it, I can’t empathize with her.
Finally, she cracks. Pent-up fear releases itself into tears. She cries, wrapping her arms around herself.
“When you learn to behave, you can see your father,” I reply.
Emma looks up at me. “You are the shittiest person I know.”
I glance at my watch. “Your father is with Dr. Meyer now.” I look at Viktor, who promptly stands behind her. “You can see him when you tell me you will behave. You’re my sister-in-law, but this is still my home. I expect certain rules to be obeyed. In return, you will be given privileges.”
“Seeing my father shouldn’t be a privilege!” she shouts. “You are so fucked up.” She scoffs, indicating her displeasure. “I won’t let you fuck up my life like you did my sister’s.”
I’m finally fed up with her bratty behavior. “Viktor will take you to your room.”
He struggles to get her out the door until he whispers something in her ear. She pauses long enough to give me another dirty look and walks voluntarily by his side upstairs.
Chapter 6
Paige
When one sense is deprived, your senses are heightened. I never understood that until now.
Stepping outside, I notice the brilliance of the sunlight though I should be concentrating on escape. But I haven’t seen the sun in what seems like a lifetime, and the fresh air distracts me from what I should be focusing on—escape.
Before I have time to take in my surroundings, a blindfold is placed over my eyes, and I’m quickly ushered into a limo. The door closes behind me. They must trust me not to try anything. It’s been decided I’m too weak to fight. But panic creeps in as I wait, tightening around my throat, and I desperately feel the armrest for a hidden lock—some sort of way to escape.
Someone clears their throat, and I suddenly realize I am not alone. Talia would never make it easy.
The door opposite me opens, and Talia’s strong perfume enters the car before she does. She talks to her favorite guard, a man by the name of Valeri Kozlov. I recognize his deep, gruff voice with a hint of an accent on certain words. His body is as large and intimidating as other Bratva men, but he has a handsome face, which explains his conceited attitude.
