CHAPTER 24
Zinovy
Petal’s mood has shifted. Again. I find her current frame of mind the most concerning one I’ve encountered yet.
I do not have much experience with the mercurial tempers of women.
Aside from the Pakhan’s wife, Irina, and daughter, Amaliyah, I have not spent much time with their gender.
Sure, I’ve enjoyed my share of brief hookups as time has allowed.
None of which stuck around long enough to see the sunrise, much less a shift in attitude.
She stomps into the house, hardly waiting for me to pull the key from the front door lock before shoving past me and storming upstairs. I’ve seen her fiery and full of sass. This is different. Very, very different.
I lock the door behind me and engage the alarm system before following her path.
Once there, it’s no surprise to see the door to the primary bedroom closed.
What is surprising is finding she has locked me out.
Surprising but no trouble to undo. In moments, the miniature lockpick set that is always in my wallet undoes her attempt to keep me away, and I turn the knob expectantly. I would know why she is angry with me.
The door does not swing open as I expect.
Instead, there is a solid mass of weight on the other side that allows it to budge open just the slightest bit.
I rear back, intending to shove my shoulder into it and force it wide when her muffled sobs comes from near the floor on the other side.
I realize the weight against the door is her slight body, and I freeze.
I do not want to harm her by bulldozing it open.
“Petal, little bird…” I try.
“Don’t you ‘little bird’ me, Zinovy middle name I don’t even know Bayev.
” Her tone is angry, but the sniffle at the end gives away her true mood.
This is not sassy, feisty Petal. Or even meek and afraid Petal.
She is furious and sad mixed together. I don’t know what the English word for such a feeling is.
In Russian, I would say she is muchitel’nyy.
Something I did has made her feel this way, and I must fix it. But how can I do so with her barring the door? My stomach twists inside itself.
“You must tell me what I have done to make you cry.” If she is upset that I now know about this ex who put his hands on her and that I will soon be ending him, she will simply have to get over it.
“Why? So you can keep judging me?” she cries.
I am lost, and it’s not a feeling I’m used to. It pisses me off, to be completely honest. I don’t like the sensation of confusion, and I definitely don’t like this fucking door between us.
“Move away from the door, Petal. I am coming in. We will discuss why you believe I am judging you. Is it because I am going to kill this ex of yours? Do you still care for him?” The thought makes my chest burn.
I can do many things, but I cannot force Petal to forget about this mudlan, this stupid guy, from her past.
“Ugh! I cannot believe you! You are so thickheaded!” she shrieks, but I hear from the volume of her scream she has obeyed me and moved from the door. I nudge it open, preparing for anything I might find on the other side.
Amaliyah once threw a book at Feliks’ head when he told her she had to stop ordering what he said were word porn books, using the house’s operating expense credit cards.
He’s still got a scar under his chin from where the gold epaulets of what she said was a special edition hardback sliced through his skin.
She’d made him pay to replace the book. She’d also refused to allow the blood to be cleaned from the thrown copy, saying it would be a good reminder for him to see it on the table in the future.
So I know an angry woman is one to be wary of.
“I will not spare his life, so if you are still enamored of him, you will need to accept that.” This is the only thing that makes sense to explain her fury.
“Why will you kill him, Zinovy? He is gone from my life, and even if he did find me, he isn’t so stupid as to try anything while you’re with me,” she reasons.
“I will kill him for hitting you.” It is my right as her man to avenge her.
“Right. So it’s not okay for my ex to hurt me, but you can?” she fires back.
“I would never!” I reel. The mere thought of abusing my Petal the way that zadnitza did snatches the breath from me.
“You already did,” she says, a chill in her voice frosting the very air between us.
The floor falls from beneath my feet. Or so it seems, at least. Petal isn’t angrily launching things at my head the way I feared she might.
No, instead she’s eviscerated me with three simple words.
I already did? How is that possible when everything I’ve done is to protect and provide for her?
Horror and self-disgust rise like a gorge in my throat.
She stands mere feet from where I am, her shoulders hunched forward and arms wrapped around her waist. Defeated and furious. And so damn far from me. Not physically, but it’s obvious she’s guarding herself. From me. I think I’m having a heart attack, the pain in my chest is so severe.
“How?” I choke out. I want to argue that I’m nothing like that fucking ex of hers. To demand she recant her claim and never paint me with the same brush as that piece of shit again. I don’t allow myself to do anything like that.
Wordlessly, her arms unwrap from their protective grip around her middle, and her hands drop to the hemline of the deep green skirt of her dress. The satiny fabric flutters as she raises it, my eyes tracking every millimeter of skin revealed.
There, on her soft pale left thigh, are a handful—my handful—of finger-sized red ovals.
Disgust and rage burn like wildfire through me as the realization dawns on me.
I’m the monster she fears now. I’m the one who allowed his strength to manhandle her carelessly, just because I heard some shit that made me angry.
The one who undid all the progress in making her feel safe by making her feel the exact opposite.
I’ve done terrible things in my life. Bled men.
Gutted them and left their tortured bodies on the lawns of their comrades.
Broken laws and ethics. Done immoral and debased things in support of the Vor, without blinking or hesitating.
Never have I questioned myself or felt remorse for the beastly nature life bred in me. Until now.