Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
A knock at the door pulls me away from the feed. Sergei enters without waiting for me to answer.
“It’s getting suffocating out there.” He sighs warily, sinking into a chair next to me and looking at the feeds with me.
“I see it.”
“You see Brighton. It’s getting worse everywhere. They’re pushing further inland. They’re starting to terrorize Bensonhurst too.”
“That’s a huge overreach on Mikhail’s part,” I say, cutting my eyes at him. “How far is he going to take this?”
“He’s going to tear the city apart until he finds her, Viktor,” he answers gravely. “You and I both know that.”
I lean back in the chair and fold my arms.
“He’s just hoping someone is going to panic and turn on us.”
“He wants you to panic,” Sergei says pointedly.
“He’ll be waiting a long fucking time for that.” I chuckle darkly.
I don’t panic. This house is a fortress. We’ve already survived one month without being terribly touched by the chaos of it all. We can make it through another if we have to. He’ll give up eventually.
Sergei’s gaze flickers slightly, but he says nothing. I know what he’d like to say, though. He wants to berate me for dragging our business into this. He wants me to give Anya back and end this whole nightmare. He thinks I’m being selfish.
“We increased patrols?” I ask.
“Yes. And I moved shipments to alternate routes.”
“Good.” I nod.
“We’ll have to increase it again, probably. Grinkov’s men are leaning on the smaller crews,” he adds. “Their extortion is getting bolder. They’re forcing the smaller families to pay them for protection. Mikhail is reminding everyone what happens when you cross him.”
“I didn’t cross him,” I say calmly. “She didn’t want to be with him, and she’s not. If I hadn’t taken her, she would’ve disappeared and this would still be happening. At least we have some leverage here.”
Sergei studies me carefully.
“You aren’t going to use her as leverage,” he says pointedly. “If you were going to, you would have contacted him already.”
I sigh and run my hand through my hair.
“No, I’m not,” I admit. “She’s a human being. She’s not a pawn.”
“That doesn’t sound like you,” he says carefully. “You’re not in the habit of rescuing damsels in distress, and she’s no damsel. Her father has more property than you do. What is this really about?”
I ignore him.
“Keep pressure on our contacts in Red Hook,” I tell him. “If anyone starts talking to Grinkov’s men too eagerly, I want to know about it immediately.”
He nods, leaves, and I return to the feeds. Anya is in her room with the door shut. She used to pace for hours. I’d be able to hear her in my room. Now, she stays in there, door shut, making no sound at all. I can’t help but wonder what she’s doing in there.
Earlier that afternoon, I’d given her permission to go into the small yard behind the house with one of the guards. She walked the perimeter once, slowly, eyes scanning the fence line. She didn’t try to test it or make a break for it. She just watched, cataloging.
When she came back inside, she didn’t slam the door or accuse me of trying to keep her caged in like an animal. She didn’t look at me, but she did murmur a quiet “thank you” for letting her go outside. The distance between us is widening, and she’s losing more of herself every single day.
The next morning, I decide to test her. She’s sitting at the table when I enter, a plate of eggs in front of her. She’s wolfing them down like they might be her last meal. That, in itself, is notable.
“You’re hungry today,” I say casually.
She looks up, unsurprised to see me. “That isn’t a crime,” she says calmly.
“Not unless you’re storing up all your energy for another escape attempt,” I suggest in jest.
She sets her fork down carefully, not looking up from her plate.
“I haven’t given you any reason to doubt me,” she says calmly, though I can see unrestrained anger bubbling just below the surface. “I haven’t tried to escape, I haven’t tried to starve myself, I’ve been a perfect hostage. You have no reason to question me.”
“That’s what worries me.” I try to laugh, but it comes out hollow. “Since when are you even remotely compliant?”
“I decided it’s a waste of my energy to fight you,” she replies, still looking at her plate. “This is a better situation than being with Mikhail. I’m a hostage, but at least I have some freedom.”
I want to push her on that, to know more about what happened between her and Mikhail, but I know better than to ask her personal questions. She’ll shut down even more, somehow.
I arch my eyebrow and try to force her to look at me, but she refuses. I can’t explain it, but that worries me more than anything. It’s like she’s afraid of me, or maybe she’s afraid of how she’ll react to me. She’s been so careful and controlled since the day we lost control in this very kitchen, but this is so much worse. It’s like she’s become a shell of herself.