Page 91 of Bound By Hate (Born in Blood)

Chapter

Fourteen

VIKTORIYA

Idon’t tell Aleksander about my throwing up. He would only look at me with disappointment, and I’m not sure I could bear it.

Since he’s busy with work during the day, I can avoid him. And when my sisters arrive to take me to the ballet that evening, it’s easy to not talk.

“Viktoriya, hold on,” he says before I leave the house.

“What? My sisters are waiting.”

He looks at me with those intense eyes of his. My heart rate spikes. Can he tell I threw up? I know I shouldn’t have, but I needed that release. I needed to feel in control.

After a beat, he steps back, “Have fun.”

“Thanks.” I hurry out the door and to the car waiting for me. Sofiya and Mila are in the backseat, while the driver—a man I don’t recognize—is in the front.

“Who’s that?” I ask, sliding in beside them.

“Mikhail’s driver,” Sofiya explains as we pull away from my house. “And guard. He understood we needed a girl’s night out, but he still wanted to make sure we were protected. After what happened to you and Mila …” She shakes her head. “Gleb is still out there. We have to be careful.”

The image of his cold face as he handed me over to be sold still haunts me.

“If he shows himself again, I’ll kill him myself,” I mutter.

“You don’t want blood on your hands, Vik,” Sofiya says softly.

“I already have blood on my hands.”

She looks away, her cheeks flushing. “That’s right. You do.”

The energy in the car is tense. Mila smiles at me, but it’s not her usual bubbly one. It’s tinged with a sadness that was only brought on by what Gleb did to her.

I nudge Sofiya’s arm. “Hey. It’s ok. It’s something we have in common. Let’s just focus on the ballet tonight.”

“Right. Ok. Let’s do that.”

The energy lightens somewhat, but it will always be dampened by what the world of the Bratva has done to us.

Walking into the theater brings back memories of my time spent in theaters, dancing, rehearsing, changing into costumes, and calming myself down until I was ready to go on stage.

Tonight, though, I’m just an observer, not a dancer.

My breath comes out faster as my heartbeat picks up. I can still feel a slight pain in my rib. My ankle isn’t as strong as it once was and probably never will be again. Is this my life from now on? Watching dance from the sidelines rather than doing it myself?

“Are you ok?” Mila asks, setting her hand on my arm.

I suck in a quick breath and straighten up. I will not lose it. Not tonight. “I’m fine. Why would you ask?”

“You didn’t look ok.”

“I always look great, Mila.” I toss my hair over my shoulder and walk on ahead. I can feel my sisters’ gazes on me, but I don’t look at them once.

We take our seats, which are close to the front but not too close. They’re ideal seats. I almost wish I was farther from the stage. If I were farther, then maybe this wouldn’t sting so much.

The show starts—Swan Lake. Typical. Watching the main dancer play both Odette and Odile, the White Swan and the Black Swan, only reminds me of the battle within myself. The need to be close to Aleksander and the need to run far away from him.

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