Page 18 of Falling for the Enemy

Before I’m fully alert, I know who it is.

“Morning, Mina,” I whisper to my little sister, smiling through the grogginess that weighs down my limbs. The world can be crumbling around me, but when she’s near, I feel a sense of peace. “How did you sleep?”

I open my eyes, ready to read the reply her tongue is no longer willing to speak. Her sweet voice is one I haven’t heard since she became mute, and I miss it fiercely.

Good, she signs by pressing the fingers of her right hand to her chin before moving them in a downward arc. You?

“Good as well,” I fib, refusing to tell her of the emptiness that gnawed at my chest throughout the night. Emptiness that was followed by suffocating numbness. “Have you eaten?”

She shakes her head no, lifting her hands to speak further. But she’s stopped short of doing so when something falls in the kitchen downstairs, the sound of glass crashing against the aged hardwood resounding through our otherwise quiet home.

“Blyad’!” a familiar voice shouts, the lone explicative followed by the sound of a cabinet door slamming shut. “Where’s the sugar?”

Mina’s palms cover her face, her shoulders shaking as she silently laughs at Nikolai, one of my enforcers. The tantrum he’s throwing is the first of many that will plague him today, I’m sure.

“What’s he doing in our house?”

It’s too early to deal with his temper.

Dropping her hands, my sister shrugs, the sight of her healthy and safe, two things she hasn’t always been, working to thaw places in my chest that only she can reach.

I think he’s hungry. She sits up from where she lies beside me, her head resting on the lumpy pillow I only keep because of her love for it. We should probably feed him.

I roll to my back, exhaling. “We should.” I turn my head, eyes finding hers. I wish she would look directly at me, returning my gaze, but she won’t. Holding out my pinky, I swallow down the lump that tries to form in my throat and wait for her to take it.

I sigh in relief when she hesitantly hooks her finger with mine. The small touch, all that she will allow, further warms my otherwise frigid heart. “Would you like some kasha? Maybe some eggs?” My voice nearly cracks on the last word, the emotion that only she can conjure within me close to breaking free.

She smiles, giving me my answer.

“Kasha and eggs it is then.” I do my best to hide the frown that tugs at my lips when she pulls away, putting an end to one of the scarce moments I get to feel her warmth. “Let’s head down before Nikolai destroys our kitchen, and I’m forced to kill him.”

Scrambling off the bed in a move I mirror, she shakes her head, a playful glint in her eyes. It’s a look I live for and that I’ll kill—that I have killed—to preserve.

Catch me if you can?

I slip on my robe and tie the satin sash tight, thankful that I put on a chemise before climbing into bed. At thirty-two, many would say I am too old to play the game Mina is suggesting. But I give little thought to other people’s opinions.

Even when I’m a haggard old woman, nearly incapable of walking, I’m going to do as my sister wishes simply because it makes her smile.

Her happiness is all that matters.

That and her safety.

“Da, but if I catch you,” I reply, shaking away the many burdens that plagued my mind throughout the night, “you’ll be the one doing the dishes.”

The threat is an empty one. Mina knows it too. I have staff that keeps our home spotless and in order, just the way we prefer. They do everything except cook. But even if they didn’t, she still wouldn’t be responsible for a single chore.

I’d work my fingers to the bone first.

A clap from her reclaims my attention, which has been stolen by my thoughts as I watch a small chickadee that sits outside my window, studying us.

I’ve always loved birds.

When she has my complete focus again, Mina wiggles her fingers and leans toward the open door, impatient as always.

Ready, set, she signs, go!

Like an Olympic sprinter, she takes off.

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