Pav stood in front of the mirror, reading the message that had been written in what she suspected was the dead man’s blood.
I miss you, Vik, the message read.
Pav’s faint Viktoria calling out to her was the last thing she heard before she hit the floor, and everything went dark. The mind was such a funny thing … it was always there to drag her away from hell when she couldn’t do it for herself. Except the bigger problem was it always delivered her to another hell.
There was no escape.
• • •
Pav stood in the doorway of the bedroom as Viktoria sipped on a hot cup of tea. He said nothing as the conversation continued in the sitting room, but his gaze didn’t leave her, either. He’d been like this since she woke up—silent and stewing. She didn’t have very much to say. What needed to be said?
The message was enough.
The hotel was one of the more expensive ones in Chicago. The Astoria was always known for its large rooms, and big-name guests. Honestly, she was just happy Konstantin had decided to pick a hotel for her that had better security.
But how much would that really do?
“We need to settle on a plan,” she heard Kolya say. “For everyone.”
“And we will, no? But we need to wait—”
“Zoya.”
Maya’s soft greeting had Viktoria glancing up from the cup of hot tea in her hands. She had been perfectly fine to stay in the bedroom while her brothers and their wives went over the plans. She didn’t need to put in her opinion when in the end, Konstantin was going to decide what to do with her, and she would just follow his orders, anyway.
But at the sound of her sister-in-law greeting Zoya, her half-sister, Viktoria decided it was time to show her face. She didn’t understand why her brothers would have the young woman come over to begin with—she wasn’t involved in this and she didn’t need to be. They were purposely dragging her into the danger zone, and she didn’t deserve that.
Pav stepped out of the way when Viktoria passed him by in the doorway. He trailed close behind her, as she headed down the short hallway and came into view at the entryway to the sitting room. All eyes turned on her, including her half-sister’s.
The two stared at one another.
Zoya, in a pretty dress.
Viktoria, in bloodstained skinny jeans.
Yeah, there’d been blood on the floor where she fell. She was trying to ignore it, but eventually, Pav would force her out of those clothes, and then she was going to see the remnants of the stains on her skin.
But not right now.
Staring at her half-sister, Viktoria could see the similarities between them. The few features they’d taken from their father, and that similar glint in their eyes that said they shared blood. She’d not made an effort with this girl—not to know her or to care. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel something for Zoya, because she did, but was this really the life she wanted to live? Did she want to be dragged into the mess of the Boykovs simply because she shared their blood?
Viktoria would tell her not to.
She’d tell her to run.
“Why is she here?” Viktoria asked, never looking away from Zoya.
She was quite aware how the question sounded. Rude and cold. Like everything else that came out of her mouth, probably. Usually, she would just let people assume her bitchiness was exactly what it was at face value, but this was not the same.
“Vik,” Konstantin snapped. “Be nice.”
She looked at her brother. “I am—why is she here? So whoever is watching us can report back that there’s another Boykov target to use? At least when she’s keeping her distance from us, nobody thinks we give a shit about her. It’s selfish to have her here when she would be safer away from us, Konstantin.”
Zoya cleared her throat, drawing in Viktoria’s attention again. “I wanted to come. I wanted to make sure you were okay when I’d heard something happened at your house.”
Viktoria softened in her stance a bit and nodded once. “I’m okay.”
“Good.”
This was probably the longest conversation she had ever had with the woman. She was hyperaware of her family, who had all turned into statues as they watched the exchange happening between her and Zoya. She didn’t know what to tell them. The fact that they assumed they understood her complex feelings or opinions about this woman, or anything else for that matter, wasn’t her problem.
“Someone will be watching Zoya as well,” Konstantin said. “That was already decided a while ago.”
“Even though she didn’t want that,” Amelia, Konstantin’s wife, added. “He does account for others, Viktoria, even if you think he doesn’t.”
She passed Amelia a look.
“I’m aware,” she replied dully.
It wasn’t that she disliked Amelia, because she did like her, in a way. She simply found that when someone—but especially a woman—was similar to her own self in ways, they could easily rub her the wrong way.
“Come on,” Pav murmured behind her, his hand coming to lock around her wrist. “Let’s go sit back in the room and relax.”
That sounded perfect.
“In a second,” she told him.
He nodded but not before dragging her a little closer to him. She didn’t mind that—being tucked into his chest, as one of his arms locked around her waist and his lips rested at the back of her head while he breathed in deep. It reminded her, for the moment, that she was safe.
What more could she want?
“Move her out of the city,” Kolya said, gesturing at Viktoria. “We can move the others, too.”
“I’m not leaving the city.”
Konstantin looked
