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But I can’t tear my eyes away. Nikolai dodges another swipe from the switchblade, retaliating with a swift kick to the man’s midsection. The man doubles over but remains standing. With a lightning-quick twist of the arm, Nikolai snatches the switchblade from his grasp. The man’s eyes widen in shock as Nikolai plunges the blade into his chest, just below the collarbone. Blood squirts from the wound when Nikolai pulls the knife out.
The man’s eyes roll back in his head as he crumples to the ground. His chest heaving with exertion, Nikolai stands over the man, smirking as if the act gave him pleasure, and wipes the blade on the man’s back before tossing it aside.
The room around us is eerily silent.
“Is … is he?” I can’t bring myself to say the word, but Larissa understands.
“He is,” she confirms. “He won’t be coming after you again.”
Instead of shocked panic, the men start to clap and cheer while the women move away as if the corpse is a heap of trash spoiling their good time. I stare at them, acting as if nothing awful has happened.
“She shouldn’t have wandered off by herself,” a woman whispers loud enough for me to hear.
“Where was she going anyway? The party is in here,” another one comments, then laughs.
A chant starts—Starukhin—as the men pump their fists in the air. And Nikolai raises his hands, accepting the praise. A drop of blood rolls down his pinky and falls to the floor.
He meets my gaze, eyes filled with an intensity that leaves me breathless and trembling. In a loud voice, he announces to the rest of the party,
“I always protect what is mine. What belongs to us remains with us.”
I push Larissa’s hand off me and start to run for the door.
Instantly, Nikolai comes after me. He blocks me at the door, grabbing my wrist. I try to push him away, staring at the blood now touching my skin.
“I’m not going to run,” I almost shout, but I gasp for air instead. “I just need space.”
He won’t let go and I stare at him, seeing the look in his eyes. It’s not anger, but a familiar haunted look. Is it because the man mentioned his brother? Or is it because the man tried to take me away?
I blink, and a tear escapes. I try to process what’s happened in front of my eyes. The lifeless body of the man, his blood staining the spotless floor. The men cheering Nikolai for committing a horrible crime right before our eyes. And even though I was just a bystander, I feel like I’m somehow responsible for a man dying.
My heart pounds in my chest, threatening to break.
“Please, Nikolai. I need air.”
“Okay,” he says gently, guiding me through the doors. “Let’s step outside.” Nikolai places a firm hand on my shoulder as we stand in the driveway. Security glances over at us, their expressions the same as if nothing had happened.Am I the only one who cares?
“Are you okay?” Nikolai asks.
I nod mechanically, unable to speak.
“Suka blyat!Is this the kind of security you expect to provide for your wife?” Natasha hurries down the front steps, her face twisted in fury and her voice hard as iron. “Where did thatublyudokcome from?”
“He came out of the woods,” I whisper. I look at Nikolai and Natasha, their matching expressions determined and dangerous.What if that had been my dad?I hold my stomach. “I don’t feel good.”
“Come, lucky girl,” Natasha says, her voice softening. She wraps her arm around me, taking me away from Nikolai.
She guides me toward a quieter wing of the house, far away from the party. Once we are alone, I start to cry like a baby. A barefoot baby in a ridiculous peach satin dress. I feel like a fool when I should feel anything but. I can’t get the image of Nikolai with blood on his hands out of my head.
He killed a man and didn’t even blink.
A moment later, Larissa joins us and after a few exchanged words with Natasha, walks me over to the limo. I climb obediently in and stare at my wrist, which is covered with that man’s blood. Some of the blood has run down to my palm, and I can smell its metallic tang in the air. A wave of nausea roils through me again.
Nikolai put blood on my hands.
Larissa tries to wipe it away with a tissue from her purse, but it won’t come off. She dabs a tissue on her tongue and resumes the work until the red smear slowly begins to fade.
I stare at the smudge where the blood used to be. My sobs slow to wayward tears as the limo pulls away.
