Chapter 6
ROMAN
I slide my SIG across the table, just far enough that my fingers can reach it in the dark.
Nala’s in her room and probably fast asleep right now. I’m not. I can’t allow myself to sleep this soon after.
Belova isn’t stupid. She may have panicked during the fire, forgetting about the girl the way I intended, but by now she has to know Nala’s gone.
Once Belova knows, it’s only a matter of minutes before my father does too.
A girl doesn't mysteriously vanish from a locked basement, not even during a fire. He’ll know someone took her.
The only question is how long before he figures out it was me.
I replay everything, every step, every detail in my mind.
No one saw me during the panic. Pyotr did his part to perfection, making the fire look like an electrical fault.
I know he won't talk. He has no reason to. He’s a nobody in the eyes of the Bratva and Volchya doesn’t waste time on nobodies. A nobody, no cameras and no proof.
I check my phone to see if word has already spread. There’s nothing. I scrub a hand along my jaw. It’s been over two hours since the fire, more than enough time for someone to move her out of Moscow, widen my father’s search radius. The longer it takes him to realize she’s missing, the better.
I set the phone down and stare into the pitch-black hallway, still in disbelief I pulled it off. Now I have her. Nala Spencer.
It’s messed up, thinking my father kept her in that cold ass, damp basement since she was a kid. I’m not much better than him, but fuck, even I wouldn’t go that far, using a kid like that.
She looks almost exactly like the whores described her. Thin, not sickly thin, but enough to see that no one gave a fuck about her down there. Her brown eyes looked scared and huge in her small face when I told her how things were going to be.
On some level, I sympathize with the girl. She’s young and had her childhood stolen. She probably wants normal things, to be a regular teenage girl. I get it. I really do.
But…
I can’t pretend she’s like other girls. She’s not. She can’t be, because I won’t let her.
Nala will always be Bratva owned.
My property.
I check my phone again. It’s after five in the morning and still nothing. No urgent calls or messages. I pick up my gun and head to my room. My head hits the pillow and the next thing I know I’m waking up to seven missed calls and a bunch of texts.
Shit.
I go through my messages. They’re all from Lev.
Where are you?
Fire at Pakhan’s brothel.
Call me.
I text back: Long night. What's going on?
Lev responds immediately: Belova’s saying something’s missing from the brothel. Something that belonged to your father.
I reply: He can buy it again.
Lev: I don’t know. He’s out of his fucking mind. Threatening to kill everyone. He’s down there right now. Something’s up.
Another message follows: Meet me in an hour.
I shower and get ready for a day of damage control. When I step into the hall, I hear movement from the other room. Nala’s awake.
I make her breakfast, assuming she probably has no idea how to use a kitchen like an adult and honestly, she’s been through enough as it is.
Breakfast is the least I can do. I know I’m not making her life any easier keeping her locked up but I don’t feel guilty.
I just need her to accept reality faster.
In the meantime, I don’t need to be shitty to her. What’s the point of abusing my own asset? How am I supposed to get the results I want if the girl’s miserable and suffering?
I set her food on the table and wait, watching for the moment it hits her that I didn’t open the lock to her door yet.
A minute later, the handle rattles, followed by soft knocking from inside the room. I let it go on for a bit before walking over and unlocking the door.
Me. I open the door. That’s what I need her to understand. I decide everything when it comes to her, including when she leaves that room.
Nala steps out, looking everywhere but at me. She’s wearing one of the sweatpants I got her. They fit, but they’re a bit loose on her small frame. The t-shirt on the other hand…
I can see why it fits her the way it does. I tear my gaze away, bringing it back up to her face, where her damp curly hair hangs past her cheeks, bouncing over her shoulders.
I look past her head, forcing my thoughts blank. I don’t care what she looks like.
She wraps her arms around her middle, looking at me, her dark brown eyes filled with suspicion.
"Good morning,” I greet her. No reason to be rude.
She doesn't answer.
"I made breakfast. You should eat."
She glances at the table, back at me then down at the key in my hand.
"Come." I step aside, giving her space.
She limps past me, her bandaged foot slowing her down as she sits at the table. She doesn’t touch the food.
"Eat.”
She stares at the plate, picking up her fork like it might bite her.
"What's wrong with it?" I ask, trying to be patient.
She shakes her head. "Nothing…” Her voice is hoarse, barely there. She nibbles her bottom lip, gestures at the food, then the table.
I get it. It’s too much for her. She’s not used to normal food or eating at a table with someone else. Her stomach’s probably weak from not getting enough food.
"Eat slow," I tell her. "You don’t have to finish it."
Her eyes lower then flicker back up, surprise flashing across her face. She watches me for a second longer before lowering her head and taking a small bite of eggs.
"How's your foot?" I ask, when she pauses.
"Hurts."
“I'll change the bandage after you eat."
She nods and keeps eating. I watch for another moment before speaking again. "Last night you said my name when you thanked me, but I never told you.”
“Saw you,” she admits.
"You saw me? In a vision?"
She nods again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"When?"
She opens her mouth, closes it, then raises one finger and makes a small motion like she’s writing. I grab a pen and notepad from the kitchen and slide them across the table.
She writes.
Not visions. I call them reading. I never read your father. Only other people. I didn’t know who you were. Last week your father showed me your picture. He asked about you for the first time.
Fuck.
"What did you tell him?"
I told him you weren't plotting against him.
“But I am"
She looks me dead in the eyes and pushes the notepad closer.
I know. I lied.
"Why?"
She pauses, writing slower.
I don't know. Instinct.
Interesting.
"What else did you see about me?"
Not much. Your father hates you. He watches you and he doesn’t trust you.
"He’s right. He shouldn’t trust me."
She frowns, giving me a side-ways glance.
It’s worse now.
"It’s always been worse."
She shrugs, picks up the fork again and continues eating.
"He knows you're gone,” I tell her, watching her reaction “He’s already searching for you."
She freezes. Her eyes snap up, wide with terror. The fork clatters against the bowl as she grabs the notepad.
I have a sister. He’s going to kill her because I’m gone.
"Relax. Your sister is safe.”
She shakes her head violently and writes fast, the pen sinking into the paper.
You don’t understand. He knows where she is. He said he would kill her if I didn’t behave.
So that’s how he did it. I laugh inside my head. Why am I surprised? Of course this makes sense. Kidnap a kid for her ability then threaten her with killing another kid.
“Your sister is safe,” I repeat. “Nothing will happen to her because she’s leverage. You don’t kill leverage unless you’ve failed.”
She stares at me, shaking her head, disbelieving.
“I know my father. He’ll search for you because he’s convinced he’ll get you back. In his mind, when he does, he needs your sister alive to control you again.”
You can’t know that.
“I can and I do.” I lean back, arms folded. “He’s my father and I hate him, but I also share his blood. You can trust me when I tell you, I’d do the same thing.”
Her lips tremble, even though I can see how much she wants to believe me.
He killed my parents. He told me.
I open my mouth to explain to her why her parents had to die, that no parents mean, there’s no one pushing an investigation. The cleaner the disappearance the better. I stop when I see her staring at her food, blinking too fast like she’s trying not to cry.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a breath, trying to stay patient.
“Listen. Your sister is safe. She’s alive for the same reason I am.
My father kills people when they stop being useful, or when they dig too deep.
Your sister isn’t searching for you. She’s doing nothing.
A dead sister gives him no control over you. Okay?”
She nods, staring down at the notepad.
“Alright.” I give her time to let that sink in. “Just so we’re clear, he’s not getting you back. That’s not happening.”
She nods again, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. I blow out a breath, glad I prevented her from bursting into tears. That I couldn’t handle.
When she finishes eating, I push my chair back, ready to go over some ground rules with her. “You understand why Belova lost her mind when the girls saw you?”
She lifts a shoulder. “So no one could help me?”
“Yeah, there’s that. What I mean is, do you understand why you were kept hidden?”
Yes. Because Grigori is a monster.
I chuckle under my breath. “True. But that’s not the real reason. You’re not going to like this, but I can be a monster too.”
I turn in my chair. “See those windows? They don’t open either.
These blinds, you also don’t touch. It’s not just your bedroom.
It’s everywhere inside this apartment. That front door will always stay locked.
There’s no Belova here. Just you and me.
No one else will ever know about you. Unlike my father, I don’t share my secrets.
” I look back at her. “You, Nala, are a very valuable secret.”
Her breathing slows.