Konstantin made a noise under his breath and drew Pav’s attention to him again. “Over the next week, I expect you to leave the Compound occasionally. The stock room where you gather the things you need for downstairs will slowly be left empty—you’ll need to handle it, now. I will provide you with accounts to use. Money.”
Pav scowled. “Hmm.”
“These are normal things, Pav.”
Maybe.
Not to him, though.
“And then next week,” Konstantin continued, “there is a party for my brother and his wife. A baby shower. I expect you to be there. You don’t have to engage, but I want you seen. Bring a gift.”
Pav’s brow dipped. “A gift?”
“For the baby.”
“What do babies need?”
Konstantin looked his way again—amusement and sadness danced in the man’s eyes. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
That was debatable.
And not one he wanted to have.
“All right,” he muttered.
“Good. This is a new start for you, Pav. Do not waste it.”
5.
STEPPING OUT of the white Camaro, Viktoria eyed the bustling parking lot of the grocery store, and tried to convince herself this was, in fact, a good idea. She had practically hidden herself away in her house for a week, and she was starting to run out of food.
So was her life lately.
She would force herself to hide away from the rest of the world until she no longer had a choice and was forced to go out into the real world. You know, where there was things, people, and other uncomfortable situations that she really didn’t want to deal with. Things that caused her anxiety to spike high, and her fear to be a constant buzz in the back of her mind.
She didn’t want to be here, but she also needed to eat. So, it didn’t seem like she had a choice but to go out and get food. Oh, sure, she could order whatever she needed online, and have it shipped direct to her doorstep, but that seemed like a problem waiting to happen, too.
That meant some stranger was going to come to her house, when she was likely going to be alone, and she was going to at least have to let them into her entrance hallway to get the bags. Which meant she would be alone in her house with a stranger, unable to really do anything, and …
Oh, God.
Just the idea was enough to make her puke. Already, her hands were shaking, and she could taste the bile on the back of her tongue. Her throat tightened; the slice of cold fear slipped down her spine, and she found it all too hard to drag in a proper breath.
Anxiety was a bitch.
Fear?
That was even worse.
Enough of that, she told herself. She wasn’t stupid, and she knew exactly how her anxiety worked. It was a fucking monster. If she allowed herself to feed into the panic and fear, it would only grow until it was out of control and she was back in her car, sobbing behind the wheel because she couldn’t get the thoughts of out of her head.
Viktoria was a mess.
No doubt about it.
She didn’t think she needed to purposely make it worse, right? No, she would much rather pretend like she was just fine. When faced with something that challenged her in that respect, she didn’t mind putting the bitch face back on to scare it away.
Simple enough.
Viktoria had made an art out of pretending her mind wasn’t a constant warzone of flashbacks, memories, and pain. It had become almost a game for her to figure out different ways to hide the fact she was terrified of almost everything now. So, it really didn’t feel like a big deal for her to cross the parking lot after dragging herself from the prospective panic attack that teased the edge of her mind instead of just giving into the hell that was waiting for her.
Oh, it would come.
The panic would come.
The attack would be horrible.
But for now, she had suppressed it. For now, it would fall to the back of her mind and taunt her from there. She was sure that once she was at home, and alone, it would come rushing back. Then she wouldn’t be able to keep it at bay. That was usually how it worked for her, anyway.
Yeah, a constant war.
That felt appropriate.
Inside the grocery store, Viktoria ignored the way the people near the entrance and exit doors felt slightly too close to her as she grabbed a cart. A guy in jogging pants and a hoodie brushed against her arm as he picked up a basket from the pile, and she did all she could do not to shudder and turn away from him.
Instead, she turned and gave him a glare that burned, snapping, “Do you fucking mind?”
The guy’s eyes widened, and he put up a hand as if in surrender. “Sorry, pardon me.”
There was always a part of Viktoria’s mind that reminded her in these moments that not all people were automatically out to get her, so to speak. That accidents were actually just mistakes, and it didn’t mean something horrible was going to happen to her, just because someone got closer to her than she was comfortable.
But it didn’t matter, either.
Already, the man had backed off. With his shopping basket in hand, he walked away shaking his head the whole time. Yet another person that would recognize Viktoria’s face the next time they came face to face. The first thing they would remember about her was the fact that she was a bitch, and they would keep their distance.
In
