Page 43 of Bound By Hate (Born in Blood)

“Hello,” I say slowly. “What were you doing this late out at night?” It’s three in the morning. “Is Vik with you? I can’t find her.”

Gleb scratches the back of his head. “No, she’s not with me. I assumed she was here. I was at a club.”

“A club? I didn’t know you were the dancing kind.”

“I am. I was riled up from the engagement party and wanted to go out dancing. I just got back now. Not sure where Viktoriya is.”

“She’s not here, Gleb.”

He narrows his eyes. “Well, where could she be? She’s my fiancé now. She can’t be running off alone anymore.”

“I agree. She shouldn’t be doing that. I’ll ask Mikhail to start looking.”

“You … don’t have to do that.”

I glance over my shoulder at him. “Why wouldn’t I do that? Mikhail is the most powerful man in all of Moscow. If anyone can find her, it’s him.”

“I assume Viktoriya will come back on her own, but I’ll look for her. She’s my fiancé. It’s my job. You don’t need Mikhail.”

“I’ll still ask him for help anyway. But you can start looking.” I hurry back up the stairs and wake Mikhail up.

“What’s going on?” he asks, alert the second he sits up.

“Vik is gone. I can’t find her.”

He groans and drops his head back. “Sofiya, I know you care for your sister, but she’s more trouble than she’s worth. If she’s run off again, then there’s nothing I can do to keep her from doing it again and again. She can find her own way in life.”

“Mikhail, please. She’s my sister. I need to know she’s safe.”

“Aren’t you mad at her?”

“I am. Was. But she’s still my sister, and I need to know where she is. Go find her.”

He sighs. “I’ll send Aleksander. I’m sure he’ll be happy to find Viktoriya for us.”

“Thank you.” I don’t mention I don’t fully trust Aleksander. Vik hates him for some reason, but he did a good job of finding her before. I’m sure he can do it again.

“Now, come back to bed. I’ll make the call.”

But I can’t go back to bed. My older sister is missing in a city she knows nothing about. I won’t be ok until I know she’s safe.

VIKTORIYA

“Get out,” the guard growls as he opens the door to my cage. Behind him stands the man who bought me.

“No,” I respond. “I’m not leaving.”

“You belong to him now. So, get out.”

“No.”

The guard sighs, then grabs me and drags me out of the cage by my ankles. I scream and twist my body, but I only slam my shoulder against the side of the cage, sending stinging pain down my arm.

I’m hoisted up and shoved toward the man who bought me. He’s …old. He has to be in his seventies if not eighties. Sagging, droopy skin around his neck. Yellow teeth. Horrible breath.

“I’m Akim,” he tells me. “You are mine now. I understand you only know English.”

I don’t respond. I’m not giving him the satisfaction.

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