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She pushed him away, resigning to her hunched pose.
“I said leave her be.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see Silas smirking. He was entertained and so was I.
She was different from what I imagined.
“Let’s order,” I said, waving the waiter over.
***
The dinner was served, and it was devoured by us three men. Michael’s sister still refused to lift her head, furthermore, a hand to eat.
I saw Michael cast a few looks her way, but my own stirred him away.
She took the life of her husband and it was not lost on me why she wouldn’t want to be married again.
Ilya was a bastard; I wouldn’t be surprised if his wife suffered the same fate as other men where he was concerned.
Sipping the bitter scotch in my glass, I looked at Michael.
“Why did she kill Banrov?”
He cleared his throat, resting his glass on the table before staring at his sister; his expression softening as he looked at her.
He loved her. That much was clear. Only he didn’t know how to protect her.
Trading her like a broodmare was no way to ensure her protection but I wasn’t complaining because this time it was to my benefit.
“He beat her.”
“That fucker,” Silas said, downing his glass.
And though I didn’t voice my displeasure like my brother did. I understood his disposition.
Men that abused women were never respected, not in our family. It was a cowardly act. Not that I expected more from the Banrovs; the rut of the litter.
“Where were you?” I asked, taking another sip of the liquor.
“What?” Michael asked.
“Where. Were. You. When. Your. Sister. Was. Being. Beaten?”
Michael cleared his throat for what seemed like the hundredth time before answering my question, “She didn’t tell me.” He hung his head as if he was ashame.
He should be.
No man would dare raise their hands to my sister and if they did, I would bring the full wrath of the Galdur Family.
I hummed and downed the remainder of my glass and stood.
“I will marry her on Sunday,” I said, leaving his guilt to swallow him.
I didn’t know the girl, but I pitied her. A clueless brother and a savage husband were all she was afforded.
God didn’t spare her.
“Poor girl,” Silas said, lighting a cigarette as we walked to our car where my driver stood waiting.
