Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Rafail nods slowly. “Vadka was just telling me about this. The Brotherhood."
"The Brotherhood?" I ask.
"It’s a group of the six most powerful underworld leaders in America," Matvei says. "It’s unofficial, but when they join forces, they become unstoppable."
"Do you have something like that?" I ask.
"Not yet," Rafail replies, his voice thick with meaning. “But it’s time.”
Interesting.
"How do you begin something like that?" I ask, curious. It’s mind-boggling to think of all of those powerful people in one group.
"First, we get your brother," Matvei says. "Then, we question him."
Semyon’s hand tightens on my knee. Question him.
What does that involve? Torture?
My head is spinning. I blink, trying to clear my brain, but it isn’t very effective. Semyon’s too intent on the conversation with his family to notice. His grip on my knee tightens.
"Are you okay?" he asks. I shake my head.
"I'm fine," I lie.
The thought of Eli being in the grip of somebody called The Undertaker? Excuse me if I need a minute.
"We're gonna take care of this, Anya. You have my word," Semyon says. But when I look at him, his face is unnaturally pale. He's still recovering from a gunshot wound, I tell myself, but…
What have I gotten myself into?
I reach for a glass of water and, to my horror, my hand shakes, and I knock it over, just like my little brother did.
"So sorry!" I stammer, flustered. I jump up from the table, and the chair clatters to the floor. I’m dizzy. The room spins.
What's the matter with me? I feel like I’m going to be sick.
As the conversation intensifies, my head throbs. It feels strange. The world tilts at the edges of my vision, but I push it aside. I can’t fall apart. Not now. There’s too much—
"Anya."
Semyon’s on his feet, reaching for me. It’s so strange because it seems like the floor is rising to meet the ceiling. How is this… I’m spinning, falling… then everything goes black.
"No evidence of poison," someone says above me in a grim voice.
"She has a fever. If it goes on much longer, we're going to have to take her to the hospital."
"No, she won’t be safe there.” I recognize Semyon’s voice.
“You’ll have to do your best to keep her well-hydrated and rested. It looks like a virus, but it could get out of hand quickly."
I try to open my eyes, but they’re so heavy. Too heavy. I close them again.
I watch as my mother pounds her small fist on the kitchen table, pleading with Semyon, begging. My father’s lifeless eyes stare ahead, the stale stench of whiskey on his breath. Eli appears next—bound to a chair, bloody and broken. But when I look closer, it's not him anymore but Semyon. Blood gushes from the wound in his shoulder, splattering the floor. I try to scream, but no sound comes.
Then I see Stefan playing outside. He’s building a castle with the blocks Yana bought him. Behind him, a large, tattooed figure raises a gun. I try to run to him, but my legs are too slow. I can’t reach him.
I gasp. Waking. Semyon is sitting in a chair, and his head has lolled to the side. I take in a quick breath.
He’s asleep.
"Semyon?"
My lips feel swollen and my mouth dry as if stuffed with cotton. He stirs immediately, suddenly alert, his glasses slightly askew.
"Are you all right?" he asks.
I’m surprised to find myself in bed.
"I'm fine," I say. I think? “What happened to me?"
Semyon’s on his feet, rushing to me. Immediately, his hand grips mine. It grounds me, calms me, even as my fears are rising.
“We don’t know. We thought you might have been poisoned, but the doctor says there’s no evidence of that. You have a fever, but the doctor said it’s most likely a virus.”
A fever… right away, they thought poison. I stare at him.
"You were out cold.”
I shake my head. “Your clothes are a rumpled mess.”
He snorts. “Yes?”
“It’s just… unusual for you.”
Semyon’s voice is rough as he leans in closer to me. “I’ve been preoccupied.” He sighs. I can still see his bandaged shoulder. It was only a surface wound after all, but it bled like crazy and can’t feel good.
“He definitely has.”
I look up to see Zoya standing in the doorway.
"He’s been by your side nonstop. You’ve been in and out.”
“Zoya.” Semyon shoots her a look, but she just shakes her head.
"He’s been absolutely glued to you, Anya. We’ve all been worried.”
"I think I’m okay," I say, shaking my head, though I’m not entirely sure. I still feel disoriented. My stomach growls.
"Are you hungry?" Zoya asks, tilting her head.
I nod. “Definitely. Any new developments I need to know about?" I ask.
"None that pertain to Eli," Semyon says, though his eyes shift away as if processing something else.
It all comes rushing at me at once. The gala. Gunfire. Semyon was shot, and he had a man he was going to interrogate. We had dinner, and I fainted. I stare. “Did you get answers?”