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"No need to be afraid," he purrs. "I won't hurt you...much. As long as you cooperate."
I bare my teeth in a snarl, summoning every ounce of courage. "Go to hell!"
He laughs, the sound grating. "Feisty. I like that in a woman." His hand closes around my throat, squeezing just enough to cut off my air. "But defiance will not be tolerated. You will learn your place."
Darkness crowds the edges of my vision. Struggling for air, I stare into his pitiless eyes.
Vladimir Mikhailov is the devil himself. The only problem is, I have no idea what he wants with me.
He releases me just as blackness threatens to overcome me. I sag against the wall, gasping for air and clutching at my throat.
Vladimir studies me with a contemplative air. "Such spirit. And such beauty. You remind me of someone I once knew." His gaze sharpens, turning predatory. "Your mother."
I freeze. Does he know my mother?
A slow, cruel smile spreads across his face. "Did you think I wouldn't recognize my own daughter?"
The words don't make sense. What is he even saying? "You're lying," I spit.
"Am I?" He lifts a shoulder. "You have her eyes. Her smile. Her fire. Her voice." Vladimir steps closer, reaching out to cup my cheek. I jerk away with in disgust. His hand drops, but his gaze remains intense.
"You were just a child in her womb when your mother fled from me. I had my men hunt for you both, but Maria was always clever at hiding her tracks." His smile turns bitter. "Until now."
My heart pounds wildly. No. This can't be true. Maria. My mother's name was Maria. How did he know? His words resonate with a terrible familiarity and try as I might, I can't dismiss them.
"What happened with my mother?" I demand hoarsely.
"Your mother is gone," he says bluntly. "She left me no choice. I couldn't have her threatening my plans, not when I was so close to claiming what is mine by right. I killed her in a cold hut somewhere in Russia and burned the place down.”
Tears burn my eyes. He's lying. He has to be lying. Those dreams? The fire? That was all true?
At that moment, I know, deep down, that he is telling the truth. The man I called ‘dad’ in my dreams, the man who I believed had died with my mother and loved me —he was nothing but a hoax.
And the devil before me now is my true father. And this one wants me dead.
I stare at the man before me, this stranger who calls himself my father, hardly able to believe his words.
"You can't mean that," I whisper.
"You are a loose end that can finally be tied up," he says calmly. "Surely you understand. I can't have you threatening everything I've worked for all these years. I'm running for power in one of the greatest countries in the world. I have a wife and a kid. If anyone were to know I had a child with a whore, it would ruin me. I told your mother she could stay by my side and enjoy her life. All she had to do was be rid of you. Do you think that bitch listened? Look at her now, in her grave. And look at you here.”
"I won't say anything!" Desperation creeps into my voice. "No one will ever know the truth. Just let me go. Please."
He shakes his head, a parody of a loving parent about to deny a child's request. "I can't take that chance. You have your mother's spirit, and I won't risk you seeking revenge against me someday."
“How did you find me?”
“I’ve been hunting you since Russia. Oh, I heard your voice, saw your eyes and knew who you were. A voice like that is a rarity, and to imagine, mother and daughter were gifted with it.”
“So…you’ve been following me?”
“All this time.”
I gasp, suddenly realizing what he’s saying. “And my parents? In New York?”
“Had to be rid of them. What fun would it be having people fight for justice once you’re gone.”
“There will be others,” I scream. “I have a man. He loves me. He won’t let this go.”
