Page 105 of Cashmere Cruelty

“This—” my brother hesitates, trying to find the words. “This isn’t smart,” he settles on. “You know that, right? You can’t just alienate thevory. You need them.”

“I really don’t.”

“Matvey—”

“I never needed them.” I shrug, striding through the blue-and-red lights. “I had you. That was always enough for me.”

Yuri’s step falters. “That’s not fair,” he bites back eventually. “To them, I mean.”

“I don’t care what’s fair to them,” I growl. “They’re not blood. They’re just glorified attack dogs. They’ll take what bones I throw at them and they’ll be fucking grateful for my generosity.”

Next to me, Yuri falls quiet. We make it outside and wait for Grisha to bring the car around.

“Dogs… they’re loyal,” Yuri remarks at last. “But even the most loyal dog will bite if backed into a corner.”

“Will it?” I ask idly. “Then I’ll just have to put it down.”

For the entire ride back, Yuri doesn’t speak a word.

31

APRIL

For the first time in a long time, I wake up refreshed. Like,actuallyrefreshed. I thought it was a myth, but who knew? A good bath, a nice meal, and now, I’m positively glowing.

Of course, it wasn’tjustthe bath and meal, but still.

As I walk around the kitchen, humming to myself and picking out a particularly mouthwatering box of Madagascar vanilla cookies, last night’s conversation comes back to me. Or rather, last night’s monologue.

I still can’t believe I did that. Things like that… I’d never said them to anyone. Aside from June and Corey, who know my sad backstory like the back of their hands because they were there for most of it, I’d never felt the urge to tell anybody else. To… confide in anybody else.

But I did. And now, there’s this floaty feeling inside of me, this lightness, that makes me want to do things. Things I never did before.

Things like calling my mom.

The kettle whistles. I pour myself a generous cup of who-knows-what million-dollar tea from Japan and munch on a cookie, lost in thought.

It’s been a while since I’ve heard my mother’s voice. I tell myself I don’t miss it. That the woman gave birth to me and that’s just about all she did. I have no reason to expect anything else from this stranger who never even wanted to share my name.

And yet.

And yet…right now, I’mexpecting. I have a child growing inside me. A child who’s going to call me “Mom,” and I still don’t know what that means.

But Eleanor does. She has a son.

And maybe, just maybe…

With trembling fingers, I pick up my phone and dial.

For a bit, it rings out. I listen to those dull, electronic beeps with a growing sense of relief. She’s not going to pick up. She’s not. I’ll be able to say I did my part and save myself the trouble of this uncomfortable conversation. Scolding at best, indifference at worst.

But what if she’s happy for you?

And then, at the last ring?—

“What.”

No question mark this time, either.“Hi, Mom.”

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