Chapter 14
ANYA
I ran through the streets, my pulse racing. The cold air bit my skin. I shouldn’t have come, but I had no one else to turn to. Eli was in trouble, and after everything—after the way Semyon kissed me—I imagined something between us had changed.
Rodion said I’d find him at the Wolf and Moon, a local pub.
The place was dimly lit and crowded. It took me a few minutes to find him. And when I did, my heart sank to my toes. He sat in the back corner, as if part of the shadows. But he wasn’t alone.
She was beautiful in a cruel way that stole my breath—sharp cheekbones, dark red lips, and a figure like a goddess. I felt like a child in my worn clothes, my hair disheveled, flour dotting my top from the bakery. She leaned in close to Semyon, her manicured fingers tracing her bottle, but her attention was all on him .
Of course it was. He was the hottest, most powerful man in the entire place, all strength and power and disinterest. He didn’t react to her but sat perfectly still, his expression unreadable. His eyes met mine.
“Anya?”
I stepped forward, the reason for my errand fading as I stared into his eyes and saw something unfamiliar in his gaze—fear. He looked from me to the woman, then back again. I opened my mouth, prepared to beg for his help. Eli was in trouble.
But the woman followed his line of sight and spotted me. Her lips curved down in disdain. “Who’s that?”
I swallowed hard. He held my gaze and blinked slowly behind his glasses before he finally spoke. His nostrils flared; he shook his head at me and mouthed ‘Go home,’ before he turned his attention to his date.
“No one,” he said. “That’s no one.”
In a matter of days, we’ve settled into a rhythm. Semyon likes predictability. You could set a clock by him.
He comes with me to the bakery, sits in the corner and works, sometimes takes calls in the back. He even manages the front when I need to take a break. And he always, always makes me take a lunch break.
Stefan joins us after school, where he tells us every single detail about his day and eats a snack before Semyon asks him about his studies and how his classmates are treating him.
But beneath the pretense of normalcy… I’m wondering when he’ll make a move, when he’ll touch me again, but he’s been careful and considerate.
I remember what he said about consummating our marriage. But how can we possibly do that when he’s in one room and I’m in another?
A part of me wants that validation, wants to know he really cares about me, that he really finds me attractive .
So when his sisters invite me out to get drinks with them, I leap at the chance to get away. I mean, I’m not really getting away. We have bodyguards, of course. But when I see the glinting sign above the door in fluorescent lighting, my heart twists.
Wolf and Moon.
Ugh. I remember this place so damn clearly.
Yana proudly sits where her brother normally would, with a glint in her eye and bulge by her side that tells me she’s just waiting for someone to fuck with us.
The bar is loud and noisy, but I let myself sink into the chaos. In a world of perfectly ordered events, it feels nice to let loose a little, to let the burn of alcohol soften the edges of my frustration. Yana drinks like vodka’s water, her sharp eyes scanning the room. Rodion’s wife Ember laughs beside them, relaxed and at ease.
“How’s married life treating you?” she asks suddenly, tipping her head back to take another shot. The question is almost too casual. I get the distinct feeling they’re on my side, but they want to be sure I’m okay.
I force a smile. “Fine.”
Yana smiles sadly. “Liar.”
“Hey, come on,” Ember says, elbowing her playfully. Her red hair is in a messy bun, her eyes bright. “Let her enjoy her night. She doesn’t want to talk about your emotionally stunted brother.”
I laugh, but it’s forced. Because I remember a night just like this, years ago, only I was a girl and Semyon broke my heart.
“I’m sorry, Anya,” Zoya says, shaking her head. “I know it’s going to take time. He’s not…Semyon’s so driven by duty, he somehow forgets that the people in his life are, in fact…well, people.”
I shake my head and drown my sorrows in another drink, envious of Yana’s high tolerance for liquor, Zoya’s calm, and Ember’s happy marriage. I’m determined to prove myself. I drink a shot. A glass of wine. Another drink, followed by another, until the memory of the past blurs and I’m laughing right along with the others.
Until he stands in the doorway.
“Your husband’s here,” Ember says, too soon, her eyes twinkling. “I’ll be sure to bring those books when we meet.” Ember’s promised me a few reads to occupy me at the next family dinner.
I hug them all goodbye and take my sweet time walking—or, more accurately, half toppling, to where my husband waits .
He kisses my cheek. I move away, the memory of the night he hurt me vivid. I turn from him, nearly stumbling.
“Anya. How much have you had to drink?”
I shrug. “Lost track.”
And fuck you.
He half carries me to the car, swats my hand away when I try to open my own door with a frown, then fastens my seat belt. The cold leather feels good against my heated skin. And still… I want to cry.
The drive is quiet at first—too quiet. The warmth of the alcohol makes my cheeks feel too hot.
“Did you have a good time?”
“Yes. They’re excellent company.” I hope he hears the note of sarcasm in my voice. “ They hug me.”
I look out the window. I don’t care if I sound like a child. The lights feel too bright, my emotions too close to the surface.
“Unlike some people I know,” I whisper. My voice sounds slurred, but it cuts through the silence.
“Excuse me?” He exhales. When I look at him, his knuckles are white on the steering wheel. “You’re drunk, Anya. We won’t have this conversation now.”
“Oh?” I ask, with a mirthless laugh. I want to break through his relentless control so fucking badly. “So what? I can’t say the truth. You don’t even look at me half the time. I’m…I’m no one, remember?”
He stiffens beside me. “So that’s what this is about.”
No, Semyon. That’s not what this is about. This is about you ruining my life. This is about you pretending like I’m nothing to you when our past says something different. This is about you sleeping in another bed like I’ll taint yours, taking care of me in all the ways you want to and none of the ways that matter.
This is about you breaking my heart.
But I don’t say anything to him.
“You don’t know who she was, Anya. She would’ve destroyed you.”
I look out the window and shake my head. I don’t trust myself to speak.
The car jerks slightly as he pulls over without warning, tires grinding against the pavement. In an instant, he’s turned toward me, his blue eyes blazing. He blinks slowly. I swallow, but it feels like a gulp. The slow blink behind the glasses…
“You think I don’t want you?” His voice is quiet. Dangerous. “You think I don’t feel it every second you’re near me?”
My breath catches. The air between us is thick. Charged.
“I’m no one,” I whisper.
I don’t know how I get there, but I’m in his lap, straddling him. His hands are tangled in my hair. He pulls it back. I’m instantly sober.
“I stay away from you because if I don’t, I won’t be able to stop.” His breath is warm against my skin .
My heart beats so fast I’m dizzy. He’s never looked at me like this before… like he’s unraveling. Like for once in his life, he can’t control me.
I whisper, “You broke my heart, Semyon. Did you know that? I loved you.” My voice trembles, raw and aching. “And you looked at a stranger, someone prettier, older, more powerful than I was, someone who was everything I wasn’t, and you told her I was nothing to you.”
A hot tear slips down my cheek, then another. I blink, but they keep falling, thick and unstoppable. My breath shudders. “And you…you were my world.”
“Anya.” His voice cracks, rough with something I can’t name.
“And when my mother begged you to stop Eli, to get him out of the danger he was in, you didn’t. You didn’t help her that day, Semyon, and you could have.”
I drop my head to his shoulder. I try to hold it in, but I can’t. A sob rips from my throat, and I can’t stop it. I wail, gasping against the weight of everything I lost, everything I’ve carried. I weep for my mother. I weep for the girl I once was. I cry like my heart is shattering all over again. Maybe it is. Maybe a part of me will always be that girl, the one who loved too deeply and only ever wanted someone to love her back.
He grips my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. “Listen to me. I’m done covering for everyone else. Your brother made terrible decisions, and I fucking covered for him. I intervened, over and over, until I couldn’t stop the tidal wave. Eli was in too deep. I tried, Anya, even at my own expense. When you saw me running away…Fuck, Anya. Please just trust me. Please trust that I did what I could.”
I stare at him. Semyon is not a good man, but he doesn’t lie. I let myself believe he could’ve prevented her dying, that he could’ve stopped Eli from his demise. What if all this time I’ve been wrong?
“And that day at the bar? Anya. That was not some random woman but Carolina Korchev. A predator. In Bratva circles, she was a shark swimming in blood, raised in violence, trained to manipulate. She wanted control. She wanted me. She would’ve made you suffer, Anya. She would’ve hurt you, and I feared I couldn’t stop it. She’s no one, Anya. But I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that hurt you.”
His lips meet mine as he holds me to him. I taste the salt of my tears before he releases me and holds me to his chest. I cry until the quiet after the storm rolls in. My eyes are swollen, my face puffy. It hurts to blink.
“Then why don’t you want me?”
"Bozhe, Anya.” He exhales, his voice rough, almost broken. "Chyort voz’mi, ty menya svedesh’ s uma."
I’m driving him…insane? Me ?
“Then why do you keep pushing me away?” I whisper.
Taking my chin in his hand, he brings my gaze to his. “Listen to me, Anya. I’ve done everything I can to protect you. I want you. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. When I found out the Irish were moving in, I?—”
The Irish ?
He shakes his head and clenches his jaw, his voice steady but his eyes blazing. “You’re drunk, love. I’m going to carry you upstairs. You’re going to have some water and a drink I’ll make for you, then I’m putting you to bed.”
He leans in and kisses my cheek. “And when you’re sober, Anya. We’re going to revisit this conversation.”
I let him carry me upstairs.
Roll down the covers.
Undress me and help me get ready for bed.
I drink the water he gives me and take the meds, before I close my eyes and sleep.