8

Avrora

Resting my head against the satin wall, I stare at the sea in the distance through the long casement windows. I'd think the intricate carvings in the wood were beautifully designed if I weren't trapped behind them like a bird in a cage.

My mother believed patience was the most powerful of virtues.

I always agreed. But there are some situations where not even the highest level of patience can help you.

Mine is without a doubt one of them.

Two hours ago, I arrived at the massive compound of Anatoli Scarfoni's mansion on Cape Cod. The house is one of the old-style Tudor homes you'd normally find in Salem, but his is ostentatious and has a haunted vibe.

The idea of being in a haunted mansion is creepy enough, but I feel like I'm trapped in one of my nightmares.

When I arrived, a rude-looking woman with silver hair and an upturned nose met us on the driveway. Then, without a word, she escorted me to this huge master bedroom I knew straightaway belonged to a man. It's the décor. Dark colors surround me, from the navy wallpaper to the long curtains at the window, and the black silk sheets covering the king-size bed.

The only touch of difference is in the white Persian rug in the center of the room.

The woman left me in here to my thoughts—the first being that the room belongs to Anatoli.

There was really no question about it. His scent, a mixture of the forest and the sea, clung to the air with the same power he exuded when he walked into my wedding and turned my world upside down.

To confirm my suspicions, I looked inside the wardrobes and chest of drawers. When I found men's clothing that suited his style, I knew I was right.

As the time drifted by, my thoughts have become a chaotic mess.

I even tried to come up with an escape plan but realized all too quickly there was no way out for me—except the way I came in. The house and grounds are heavily guarded with armed men who look like they could form their own Bratva. And even though I was captain of the girls' swim team in high school, I don't think I could jump in the sea and swim out of here. Doesn't mean I wouldn't try; I just know the chances of escaping that way are slimmer than slim.

Dad, of course, hasn't left my mind, but my biggest worry is what will happen when Anatoli eventually graces me with his presence.

When I see him again, it will be in here. In this bedroom. And I will be all by myself.

I'm trying to balance my thoughts, but I feel just as unhinged and manic as when I found my mother lying dead in her bathtub—her body lifeless and gone forever, the water bloody from her slit wrists, and a bottle of pills scattered on the floor beside her.

It's an image I'll never get out of my mind. I don't think anyone would, much less a fourteen-year-old who adored her mother to the ends of the earth.

I feel like I'm in that same limbo and my worries are chewing up my insides. Whatever Dad did is going to dictate what happens to me next.

With Dad, this mess could be about anything, and I know he has his secrets.

My father is an important man with a job that has taken him everywhere. Galitze Developments is just the ordinary day-to-day job he inherited from my grandfather, but his power lies in what he does for the Bratva. The range of what that includes is vast and way beyond my scope.

Like most men of status who keep women out of business, my father did the same.

Trying to figure this out is going to be like a fruitless attempt to pick a needle out of the sea. It doesn't help either that while I was carted off to this prison, everyone else went to talk, leaving me in the dark.

I wonder if Mikhail's hands are tied too.

If not, would he fight to marry me?

I've always thought of us as a couple, even though Dad only allowed us to start dating when I turned eighteen. I knew I wasn't the only woman on Mikhail's arm, and I didn't expect him to be a virgin like me either.

I'd seen him with women multiple times at events like fundraisers, and I'd heard things from Lorelai. Things I didn't want to hear.

But now I wonder if he loves me enough to challenge Anatoli and rescue me.

I know how the Knights operate when it comes to oaths and blood contracts, so Mikhail might not be able to do anything, regardless of how he feels.

But would he try?

Even if he did, it might not help me right now.

As it stands, the only thing I can do for myself is find out more information.

When I see Anatoli, I'll ask what's going on then try to negotiate my freedom.

Surely, I can make him see this can't work and people don't do shit like this anymore. This isn't the Viking age or the time of sea pirates when a man would just grab a woman and keep her under lock and key.

It's—

My thoughts are invaded by the ominous sound of the door opening. Even before I look around, I know it's not the rude woman coming in. There's a shift in the air, like an omen of danger.

So when I meet the bright hazel eyes of my captor, I'm ready for him. And I can see straightaway from the stern expression on his face that talking to him is going to be difficult.