Chapter-4 The Sin

“Come on, Yan. Show a little enthusiasm. Pakhan just agreed to your homicide.”

I had survived many things in life people seemed to cherish with love. Silence when asked for loved. Burial of the only woman who cherished me, my aunt. Pain from whips and words, even numbness.

What I did never survived was the account for recognition. Reminding you of everything you’ve ever tried to forget.

I knew holiness was fragile, one look was all it took to fracture it, taint it. And his eyes were no better.

His gaze lifted and found me with unnerving meticulousness as he listened to the man on his left.

He recognized me.

I didn’t know what I even expecting.

My pulse slammed violently, and a traitorous rhythm thudded beneath my skin. I felt stripped bare under that gaze, as though he could see past fabric, past flesh, straight into the marrow of my sins.

Fear and something worse tangled together inside my chest.

Something dangerously close to amazement.

I should have looked away. Should have bowed my head, crossed myself, done something to protect what little sanctity I had left. Instead, I stood frozen, caught in the gravity of him, drawn toward the very thing I had been warned against all my life.

Sin.

This was how souls were lost.

Never in rebellion, but in silence. In stillness. In the pause where fear tasted too much like surrender.

God, forgive me.

Because as Pakhan Sokolov stepped down the last stair, his presence commanded the room without a word, I knew with bone-deep certainty.

If saints were made through suffering…then devils were made through power.

And standing there, trembling beneath his gaze, I feared I had just been seen by both.

I lowered my gaze, fingers curling into my palms until my nails bit skin.

I heard his steps, authoritive and full with pride as Pakhan Sokolov took his seat at the head of the table and it amazed me how the presence of four male made the room dwarfed and less breathable.

I saw through my lashes.

The chair looked too small for him. Everything did.

Leather creaked as he settled, broad shoulders rolling once beneath the tailored coat.

I kept my eyes on the tablecloth deciding to go back to my room and come back once men finish eating, but before I could take a step; his deep amused voice stopped me.

“Sit,” he said, and I stood there dumbfounded. I looked around to see who he was talking to, only to realize he was staring at my soul.

I swallowed, glancing at Catherine for her reaction, only to find a look of unease in her pale eyes before she managed a smile and encouraged me to sit.

I did. Two seats away from him, letting Catherine and Nikolai fill the gap. My view of him blocked, and I thanked the lord.

Other two men, one with blond buzz cut and other with dark head, sat opposite to us.

I tried to keep my focus on Magda as she served, but my mind betrayed me instantly, gravitating toward the one who already knew how I bled.

I became acutely aware of how stark I must look amid silk dress Catherine wore, the cashmere coats and expensive ornaments, how wrong and deliberate my modesty appeared in a house like this.

My fingers curled tighter around my lap, knuckles pale.

“So, Nikolai wasn’t exaggerating when he said there’s a nun in the house.”

“Excuse you, Mikhail. She’s my sister-in-law. No comments on her.”

“Relax, I was just curious,” he looked at me. “Are you… are you actually a nun?”

“Mikhail,” Nikolai said immediately, amused rather than reprimanding. “Please don’t interrogate the guests.”

“I’m not interrogating,” Mikhail protested, already leaning on the table. “I’m just… look at her. She looks like she walked out of a monastery. Do you take vows? Do you…oh…can you spin?”

He made a little motion with his finger, genuinely delighted by the idea.

Heat crawled up my neck as Yan looked disbelieved and Nikolai chuckled.

“I… no,” I said softly, unsure where to look.

“He means well,” Nikolai turned to me. “He’s… enthusiastic.”

“Curious,” Mikhail corrected cheerfully. “Very curious.”

“Don’t mind him, Ana.”

I swallowed and nodded.

I wished I could be as nonchalant as Mikhail, or pretend I couldn’t feel the right side of my face burning. Amber and scorching burning.

I felt Kayne’s eyes.

I avoided leaning back, the careful angle of my spine as if I were still avoiding a belt that no longer hovered behind me. But Kayne seemed to notice, cause he held my eyes and casually leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips.

My back burned.

The phantom memory of leather.

The echo of pain.

I hated that he knew. I hated that it didn’t take him much.

I hated that he could look at me now and see beneath the cloth, beneath the obedience, straight to the wound I’d wrapped too poorly.

Nikolai cleared his throat. “How is the convent, Ana? You’ve taken your vows, right?”

I forced my lips into a polite curve. “Not my final ones,” I said carefully. “Not yet.”

Mikhail blinked. “Huh? Why not?”

Because I lie.

Because I bleed.

Because God would never want something like me.

I swallowed all of it.

“It takes time,” I replied instead, folding my hands neatly in my lap. “To learn the ways of God. To be… worthy.”

The word tasted wrong in my mouth.

You deserve to die! You took everything from me, you bastard! You’re worthless!

“So you’re like… a trainee nun?”

“Something like that,” Nikolai supplied gently, saving me.

I tried not to drop the fork as I put the bite in my mouth. The flavors exploded in my mouth, and I resisted the urge to throw up. I was not used to this.

“Is church fun?” Mikhail asked, genuinely curious. “I mean, there must be a lot of beautiful women there. I mean, like how do these fathers survive with all the temptation walking around. I would never.”

I startled despite myself.

“That’s…” I stopped, heat flaring again. “Temptation is a sin,” I said quickly. “The Church teaches restraint. Discipline. Devotion above desire. God above anything.”

“Does it?”

My whole body locked in autopilot.

I slowly turned my head to find Kayne’s eyes staying on me. His head tilted slightly as he casually leaned back.

“Does it teach devotion,” he continued, “or just scare the shit out of you until you fall in line?”

No one breathed.

“Does it teach faith,” he added, “or just expect you fools to shut up, kneel, and do as you’re told without ever asking why?”

My chest tightened.

I felt tension rolling off Catherine’s body, seeping into mine as I tried to hold his gaze. I couldn’t hear Yan’s fork scrapping against the plate, even Mikhail fell quiet.

Kayne tilted his head slightly, studying me. Leaned back slowly until his shoulders flexed and the top button of his shirt strained.

“Because from where I’m sitting,” he said calmly, “that’s not God.”

I had repeated those teachings my entire life. Worn them like armor. Like penance. Like truth.

And yet, my back still burned.

My blood had still spilled.

And God had still been silent.

I opened my mouth.

Closed it again.

Kayne watched it happen, whatever crossed my face, and a faint, unreadable curve touched his mouth.

It was not a smirk. Something far more dangerous.