Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
A shadow crosses his features. Frowning, he asks me, “You really don’t know?”
I shake my head. Pain explodes in my skull and along the back of my neck. I wince.
Moving his hand to cup my cheek, he whispers to me, “All you need to know is that you’re mine, and you’re not going anywhere now.”
I shiver at his touch, consumed with an odd mixture of fear and curiosity. Before he releases me, he brushes a kiss to my forehead, but it doesn’t feel tender. It’s like he’s showing me that he can. A searing touch that feels more like a statement than a caress, more like a claim than affection.
Turning, he stalks to the door, leaving me with the young woman. Girl?
"I’m in so much pain,” I say in a low voice to the young woman. "Do you really think it necessary for me to be shackled to this bed?"
"I think it's necessary to do whatever my brother tells me to do," she says in a little voice. "And soon you'll learn that's true for you too."
Her brother. Now we're getting somewhere.
I press on. "It's uncomfortable being chained like this."
With a look of chagrin, she wrings her hand for a fraction of a second before she nods. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry. I really can't let you go."
Tears blind my eyes. I don't ever recall feeling this helpless, but then again, I don't recall much of anything. It’s like waking from a nightmare only to realize you’re still dreaming.
I take a shaky breath and let it out.
"What's your name?" I ask quietly. Can she answer that? Her brown eyes are as soft as a doe’s, her thin face pinched.
"Zoya,” she whispers.
I ask her the question that plagues me, my voice trembling. “What’s mine?”
Chapter 6
RAFAIL
I walk the halls outside the guest room where I have my bride imprisoned.
Zoya thanked me for allowing her to take care of her, so maybe it was the right choice. When we brought her home, she begged me. My youngest sister gets away with everything. I can't help it. She was just a child when our parents died, and she's always looked to me for guidance. She's the only innocent one in our family.
Unlike the others, Zoya was too young to remember our parents' deaths and grew up insulated from the darker dealings of our family life. She's sweet, naïve, shielded from the underworld, and sometimes I wonder if she knows more than she lets on. Zoya has a heart and is deeply empathetic—somebody needs to be.
My brothers tell me that I baby her, that I hold them to standards I don't hold her or my sister Yana to. Maybe they're right. Perhaps I do, and I am protective of her. So when she asked me to take care of my bride, I let her. Somebody needs to keep a thread of humanity around here. Fuck knows I'm not the one who will. I think they’re particularly angry that I’m softer on Yana, but I have good reason. She’s fought an uphill battle most her life, and for her, more so than the rest of us, my father’s demise was at least in part a stroke of luck.
My phone buzzes with a text. I open it
Zoya
Rafail, she really doesn’t know who she is. What do I do?
She doesn’t know who she is? What?
I text her back.
"Wait. I want to test that theory."
She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t know who she is? I need to get outside and get some fresh air. This is the first time I’ve left her bedside since I brought her home last night. I needed to update my brothers.
I look out the large windows near the foyer. Each floor has a balcony that overlooks the lush green grass below. I like to be on a balcony when I need to think, when I need to plan. The secluded cottage, the family estate passed onto me and left in my care, is located on the outskirts of Moscow in Zalivka, far enough from the public eye to give us privacy and security but close enough to the city for me to manage everything. It’s surrounded by acres of private land and forests—a natural barrier that gives it a fortress-like atmosphere. And I love it.
I’ve done what I could to make this place a fortress, a stronghold, but still a family home despite the imposing walls, thick, wrought-iron gates, and maze-like hallways.
I push open the balcony door to find my grandfather sitting with Vadim—Vadka, for short. My best friend and most loyal lieutenant.
Rugged and solidly built, with a perpetual five o'clock shadow, Vadka is tough but has a friendly smile when he's around people he trusts. Like my grandfather. Like me.
Next to Vadka, my grandfather is small and frail, with warm eyes and a soft voice. He walks with a cane, hunched over, but still maintains an air of dignity. My mother's father, he’s the only living grandparent we have left. These two are my most trusted advisors, and while I rarely ask for advice, there’s a time and a place.