CamilaNothing tastes better right now than peanut butter and yogurt on top of a blueberry muffin.I didn’t have this epiphany until this morning, but I’m confident I’m right. Why else would I be slathering my third muffin in thick white yogurt, licking chunky peanut butter off my thumb while hovering over the sink in the kitchen?Because you’re a crazy pregnant woman.Well, okay. That probably factors in.Humming to myself, I wash down my mouthful of food with a glass of orange juice. It was freshly squeezed this morning, which boggles my mind because it’s only nine and I’ve been awake for half an hour. Does the staff ever sleep? Or do they wake up fully functional at the crack of dawn? I could never. Especially not lately. I’m a walking ball of exhaustion mixed with ravenous hunger.Running my palm over my belly, I sigh. Sure, my feet are swollen and killing me, and I’m eating weird things, but I’m living my best life.If you ignore the mystery surrounding my husband-but-not-really-
CamilaThere’s a stranger in the house.I lean over the railing near the staircase to get a better look. Blonde hair down to her hips, a fur-lined ivory coat that doesn’t hide how thin she is. She’s shorter than me; I can tell because she’s standing next to Mila and barely reaches her shoulder. Small. That’s the word I’d use to describe her. Not only in stature, but also in how she presents herself.I’ve seen beaten dogs who shake less.“Come on, Madison,” Mila says, her tone gentler than normal. “Asher is upstairs.”She’s here to see Asher? Intrigued, I remain where I am on the stairs as the pair get closer. Mila sees me, her eyes going from wide to narrow. Madison, who has been pressing close to Mila like she’s a source of comfort, stops short at the sight of me. The young woman can’t be older than eighteen. Her face, unlike her thin body, has the roundness of youth.“Did you need something?” Mila asks me with an edge.Ignoring her, I smile kindly at Madison. “Hi there, I’m Camila.”
His eyebrows shoot up. He must be surprised that Mila, such a closed-off, dangerous person, might share something so vulnerable with me. I feel him evaluating me with fresh eyes. There’s interest and a new air of respect. “Then I’ll leave this to you.”Thank God. The idea of Madison being examined like a horse at a trade show makes me sick. “Give us privacy, please,” I say.Madison darts her attention between us. She hasn’t spoken in several minutes and that doesn’t look about to change. But unless I’m imagining it, some color has returned to her face and she’s breathing easier.Asher hesitates at the door. “The fox should have three legs.”“Three?” I repeat.“Yes. The fourth, with the chain, is only added once a girl is trained and broken. She is neither.” His long, dark stare at Madison communicates to me that he has also noticed how young she is.The women who get the finished tattoo are changed forever.I wonder helplessly what Mila was like before the last leg was added.Asher cl
I don’t know what wakes me up. I only know that the darkness I’m staring at isn’t the familiar wall of my own eyelids. Everything shifts around me. Slowly, I recognize the ceiling, the walls, and the moonlight filtering through the gap in the drapes.Asher is breathing evenly beside me in the bed. It’s a comforting sound. I rock sideways to hug him, eager for his presence to lull me back to sleep. The slope of his nose and strong chin glow in the starlight through the window.And that’s when I see it.Someone else is standing over him.In the diffused light, Madison’s hair looks like cloud vapor. It drifts from side to side as she hovers over Asher with something clutched in her fist. Something sharp.Time is sluggish; it takes decades for me to draw enough air into my lungs.Madison strikes downward. I scream simultaneously.Asher’s eyes pop open. In a blur, he shoots his arm up, snatching Madison by her thin wrist just before she can touch him. Grunting, he twists his body, wrenchin
CamilaAsher is dead.I’ve never seen him so still. Even in his most brooding moments, he radiated life. But lying on the floor, his throat split apart in a clean gash, ashen skin coated in blood, he’s as lifeless as a rock. The man who was constantly strong … a symbol of power … is no more.And there’s so much blood.The trail of glistening red goes from Asher to the tip of the knife in Madison’s hand. She crouches over Asher’s body, legs bent like a gargoyle perched on a roof. She shifts almost imperceptibly to turn one eye on me.Her lips twist into a smirk as if to say, You’re next.And it’s true. Because what defense do I have against a trained killer? She took down Asher with ease. I’ll be a cakewalk.“Madison, no,” I whisper. My mouth is too dry; the words are too quiet. But again, I know it doesn’t matter. Screaming won’t stall her mission.She rises, stalking toward me with the patience of a wolf cornering a rabbit. The knife flips into her other hand, leaving a trail of bloo
Asher“You’re going there?” Camila asks me, her eyes wide, but her voice is torn between fear and hope. She hates that I’m putting myself in danger. I get it. But the reward at the end of this, if I do everything right, is something she’s been begging for daily.“I have to. The Winter Palace could be where your mother is being held captive.”Madison claimed there was an older woman there. Yannick might have put Katinka to work teaching dance. I can’t discount the idea that this is a trap. But what if it isn’t? I don’t have a reason to believe a lick of what came out of that girl’s mouth, but the Winter Palace was already on my list to investigate. Mikhail rattled off a few locations when Mila interrogated him.This was one of them.I haven’t been back there since the day I killed Pyotr.Camila, who’s now staring at me with yearning, making her eyes sparkle, brought that bastard back to the forefront of my mind. I told her that every kill stays with me, and it’s the truth. But I’ve nev
AsherKostya’s car is sticky from blood. Mila is slumped against the passenger door, her eyes open but staring blankly into the ethers. “How did the cops know?” she whispers.I don’t have an answer. My mind has been too tangled to puzzle it out yet.We roll through the gates of my mansion. Every rocking motion of the car sends new waves of pain through my leg. I wiggle my toes to make sure my foot hasn’t gone numb.Kostya jumps out of the driver’s seat. I see him through the window as he sprints to the front doors. I heard him on the phone as we sped here at top speed, so I’m not shocked when Layla, Dr. Helsan, and a few other staff and soldiers I left behind rush toward us.I don’t look at any of them.I only have eyes for Camila.She runs faster than the rest, her hair whipping behind her like a kite. Even at a distance, I spot the red rims of her swollen eyes. She’s been crying. Her lips make the shape of a single word.“Asher!” she sobs, ripping the door open beside me. Carelessly
CamilaIt’s bright outside, and oddly sunny for winter. The glare through the car’s windshield blinds me at certain angles. Asher’s sunglasses make it hard to catch the way his eyes skirt toward me before returning to the road.“Where are we going?”There’s a wisp of a smirk on his lips. “You’ll see.”“Why can’t you just say?” I ask.“Because the point of a surprise is to be surprised, ptichka.”I roll my eyes, but truthfully, I’m delighted. It’s clear he’s enjoying himself, so this “surprise” must be good. Plus, the last surprise like this involved me getting a bucket-list item of a ballet performance of a lifetime. What could he be cooking up?Having something to take my mind off how stressful the last months have been is a welcome change. It’s only been a few days since Asher’s foiled assault on the Winter Palace. From browsing the internet on my phone, I was able to find out that the news reported the incident as the cops intervening in some massive organized crime feud. Listening