Chapter 25 Miko
MIKO
Anika went from sensual and excited to stiff as a board so fast, it made my head spin. My gut clenches to see the wild fear in her round blue eyes.
She looks terrified.
Frozen in place as I crouch at the foot of the bed, I don’t dare move or even breathe as I watch her, trying to make sense of what just happened. It’s not hard to guess. I got carried away.
I hurt her.
My stomach roils with self-revulsion, but I shove the feeling to the back of my mind because I have more pressing matters to think about. Like what the hell I can do to fix what I’ve done.
“Anika,” I say, my voice rasping past the knot in my throat.
Her wide eyes lock on me, seeming to fully register my presence. Then, without a word, she bolts.
Damn it.
She’s way too fast to be the kind of flight risk she’s proving to be. And as she scrambles off the bed, making it to the door in a matter of seconds, she’s not wearing a stitch of clothing.
Kicking myself for being so careless, I snatch the nearest piece of clothing I can find, hauling my jeans back over my hips without underwear.
I snag the robe she left draped across the back of a chair as I race after her, reaching the door several seconds behind her.
Thankfully, I’m more familiar with her escape route now, and I don’t pause to watch where she’s going as I sprint, throwing myself around the corner and down the stairs just as she reaches the bottom landing.
“Stop!” I bark.
Anika flinches, stumbling as if her feet intend to obey. But then she’s up and running again, her mind overruling her natural instinct to do as I say. The delay is all I need, though, and I catch up just as she reaches the front door.
Using her robe as both a cover and a net, I trap her inside the thick terry cloth. Not that I think it’s going to help disarm her flight instinct—but I don’t know how else to stop her. And after last time, I know better than to leave her arms loose to use as weapons.
A feral scream rips from her, and the sound echoes harshly around the vaulted entryway, bouncing off the cold, hard floor until it feels like the sound is clawing at my eardrums.
“Anika, stop,” I growl, locking one arm around her waist as I hold the robe closed over her naked body.
I can feel eyes on us, curious bystanders coming from their rooms to see what the commotion is all about.
Anika’s knees buckle, her body collapsing into me as she breaks down, bawling like a heartbroken child. “Please, just let me die,” she sobs, her breaths ripping from her lungs in sharp, ragged gasps. “Please, please. I can’t take it anymore.”
Her words cut sharper than a knife, flaying me open as I hold her trembling body.
I close my eyes against the agonizing wounds, wishing I could absolve myself of responsibility for her pain.
But this time, I can’t, and that makes the horror that threatens to consume me all the more unbearable.
“Shh, Anika, you’re okay,” I murmur, my eyes pleading as I spot Gio entering the foyer, the twins on his heels.
They all look ready for a fight, knives out and guns at the ready, likely thinking it’s an intruder that’s set Anika off.
Then a cold, sharp voice stops my heart in my chest. “Get your hands off her.”
The frigid command comes from my right, down the hallway that leads to the far wing of the house. As I turn my head, I’m shocked to find Svetlana Novikov out of her wheelchair, one hand braced against the wall as she leans heavily on a cane with the other.
“I said, take your hands off your wife, kozyol.”
I don’t know what she just called me, but it stings just the same as her voice cracks like a whip.
Though it goes against all my instincts, I do as she says, slowly releasing my grip on Anika only after I’m sure she won’t crumple to the ground or make a mad dash again.
Then I take a single step back—the most space I can bring myself to give her.
Anika sways dangerously, her tears coming hard and fast as she slips her arms through the sleeves of her robe and pulls it more snuggly around her.
Then she dares a glance back at me over her shoulder.
It destroys me to see her in such pain.
But the look of betrayal on her face is what truly kills me. guilt floods my chest as I stand rooted to the spot, because even if I didn’t mean, I hurt Anika.
“Come, vnuchenka,” the old woman says, gesturing for Anika to come toward her as she hobbles to the end of the hall. If Svetlana comes any closer, she’ll lose the support of the wall, and I’m not sure she has the strength to walk without it.
My heart aches when Anika takes a step toward the wizened old grandma, and I reach for her, an objection on my lips.
“Anika—”
“Don’t. You. Dare,” Svetlana growls, her eyes full of such disgust, she could rip me to shreds with a single glance. “She’s coming with me now.”
The gathered audience remains perfectly still, utterly silent, and I can’t shatter the ice that’s frozen me in place.
It crushes me when Anika willingly steps into the old woman’s arms, burying her face in Svetlana’s neck as she breaks down completely. I can’t believe how terribly I’ve failed her. Each sob that racks her feels like a hundred daggers opening cuts all over my body.
“Hush, child,” Svetlana soothes her, lifting her hand from the wall to gently stroke Anika’s hair.
The knuckles of her hand gripping the cane turn white with the effort to hold herself upright, and I’m awestruck by the strength and fortitude of the frail old woman when it comes to protecting someone she loves.
It’s agonizing.
Every bit of it.
The fact that I couldn’t protect Anika.
That I became the monster.
The fact that Svetlana feels the need to stand between Anika and potential danger when it’s clearly taking a toll on the old woman.
I should have known.
I should have held back.
I should have been strong enough to resist.
Seeming to regain a semblance of control, Anika lifts her head.
Her brows buckle as she looks down at Svetlana with troubled confusion. “Babushka, what are you doing wandering the halls without your wheelchair?”
Svetlana gives a cackle. “Just taking my nightly stroll.”
“Come, let’s get you back to your room,” Anika murmurs, wrapping a supportive arm around the woman’s waist.
Svetlana nods, wobbling dangerously as she turns around, switching hands so she can brace against the wall with her left and hold the cane in her right.
Anika steadies her, moving carefully at the old woman’s side as she hovers protectively to ensure she doesn’t fall.
They take several steps together before my beautiful wife casts a single, sad glance back at me over her shoulder.
Then she leaves me standing there, trapped in a tomb of guilt.