Page 2 of Savage Warrior

“No…” Arina barely breathed the thought, couldn’t bring herself to voice it out loud. “No! You are mistaken. He is getting better. He always gets better.”

“We did all we could, Miss Kovalyova…”

The well-rehearsed platitude rolled far too easily off the tongue, in Arina’s view. How could this man possibly think he or anyone else here had done anything close to all they could? If they had, this would not be happening. Her world would not be crashing about her ears.

“Where is he? I want to see him.” Her papa would smile at her, tell her not to worry. Then she’d be able to tell these fools how badly they had got it all wrong.

“I’m afraid that will not be possible, miss. I am sorry.”

In fairness, Arina recognised that his expression was one of genuine regret, and it was that certainty which gave his message the awful ring of authenticity, the unshakable finality which sent here reeling back into the hard little chair.

“What has happened?” she whispered.

The doctor sat beside her and took her hand. Arina did not protest the familiarity.

“His tumour was advanced,” the doctor explained. “You knew this…”

Arina shook her head. “No, I did not. What tumour…?”

“Mr Kovalyov had lung cancer, miss. There were secondaries… It had spread to his bones, his liver…”

“No. It is not possible. He was ill, that is all. He had an infection…”

The doctor was undeterred. “As I said, we did all that was possible, but sadly, Mr Kovalyov was very ill. He passed away five days ago.”

“No, no, no, no…” Tears streamed down her face. It couldn’t be true. How could this possibly be true? “I was here. I saw him…”

“I am sorry for your loss,” the doctor repeated.

“Why did no one tell me? I should have been with him…”

“We had no contact details for you.”

“But—” Arina snapped her mouth shut. Papa must have provided a fake address, perhaps to avoid the prospect of a hefty bill for his treatment. There was never any spare cash for insurance, and she had told herself he must have managed to strike some sort of deal to pay later. She’d been clutching at straws, she’d known that, deep down, but buried her anxiety. She had more pressing problems…

“It was peaceful at the end. He didn’t suffer,” the doctor assured her.

Arina leapt to her feet. Why was this idiot babbling about peaceful endings and not suffering? What did any of that matter if her papa wasn’t here? How could she possibly manage without him? What would happen to them now?

Fear gripped her as the stark, awful reality settled over her, a dark, cloying cloak of misery and grief.

“Papa,” she whispered. “Oh, Papa…”

CHAPTER 1

Lida, Belarus

October 2022

Arina

“Five hundred rubles?” Mr Ivanov leans back in his chair and blows a plume of cigar smoke in my face as he consults the grubby notebook opened before him. “On top of the three hundred and seventy-one you already owe me?”

“Please, Mr Ivanov, I will pay it back, and the interest…” I plead with him, all the while knowing I’m digging myself into an ever-deeper hole.

Isak Ivanov’s terms are exorbitant. I can’t even afford what I already owe. I originally borrowed just fifty rubles to pay what was short on the rent, and now I owe seven times that, despite handing over every spare kopek I have. And I have nowhere else to go. No bank will entertain me, I have no accounts, no savings, no assets. Even the other loan sharks in the city turn me away.

I’m stuck with Isak Ivanov. It’s that or we find ourselves on the streets. Again.

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