Page 12 of Unleashed

Chapter 6

RAFAIL

I walkthe halls outside the guest room where I have my bride imprisoned.

Zoya thanked me for allowing her to take care of her, so maybe it was the right choice. When we brought her home, she begged me. My youngest sister gets away with everything. I can't help it. She was just a child when our parents died, and she's always looked to me for guidance. She's the only innocent one in our family.

Unlike the others, Zoya was too young to remember our parents' deaths and grew up insulated from the darker dealings of our family life. She's sweet, naïve, shielded from the underworld, and sometimes I wonder if she knows more than she lets on. Zoya has a heart and is deeply empathetic—somebody needs to be.

My brothers tell me that I baby her, that I hold them to standards I don't hold her or my sister Yana to. Maybe they're right. Perhaps I do, and I am protective of her. So when sheasked me to take care of my bride, I let her. Somebody needs to keep a thread of humanity around here. Fuck knows I'm not the one who will. I think they’re particularly angry that I’m softer on Yana, but I have good reason. She’s fought an uphill battle most her life, and for her, more so than the rest of us, my father’s demise was at least in part a stroke of luck.

My phone buzzes with a text. I open it

Zoya

Rafail, she really doesn’t know who she is. What do I do?

She doesn’t know who she is? What?

I text her back.

"Wait. I want to test that theory."

She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t know who she is? I need to get outside and get some fresh air. This is the first time I’ve left her bedside since I brought her home last night. I needed to update my brothers.

I look out the large windows near the foyer. Each floor has a balcony that overlooks the lush green grass below. I like to be on a balcony when I need to think, when I need to plan. The secluded cottage, the family estate passed onto me and left in my care, is located on the outskirts of Moscow in Zalivka, far enough from the public eye to give us privacy and security but close enough to the city for me to manage everything. It’s surrounded by acres of private land and forests—a natural barrier that gives it a fortress-like atmosphere. And I love it.

I’ve done what I could to make this place a fortress, a stronghold, but still a family home despite the imposing walls, thick, wrought-iron gates, and maze-like hallways.

I push open the balcony door to find my grandfather sitting with Vadim—Vadka, for short. My best friend and most loyal lieutenant.

Rugged and solidly built, with a perpetual five o'clock shadow, Vadka is tough but has a friendly smile when he's around people he trusts. Like my grandfather. Like me.

Next to Vadka, my grandfather is small and frail, with warm eyes and a soft voice. He walks with a cane, hunched over, but still maintains an air of dignity. My mother's father, he’s the only living grandparent we have left. These two are my most trusted advisors, and while I rarely ask for advice, there’s a time and a place.

"My son," my grandfather says in his shaky, rasping voice. "You look as if you’ve seen a ghost."

Vadka sits back in his chair and takes a swig from a bottle. "I don’t know if I’d describe him that way. Looks like he’s angry." He tips his head to the side. "Somebody key your car again, boss?"

He’s the only one I let get away with bullshit like this. "Got another one?" I ask him. Of course he does. He takes the cold drink from the ground beside him, pops the top off, and hands it to me.

I gulp half of it before I speak. I swallow and sigh, looking over the balcony. "She has no memory of who she is."

"No shit," Vadka says, his eyes wide. My grandfather doesn’t respond at first, though his bushy gray eyebrows knit together.

"Are you positive about that?" he says quietly.

"That’s what Zoya tells me. I have to test it."

My grandfather nods thoughtfully, stroking the gray on his chin. "You definitely do. What does she gain from pretending she doesn’t know who she is?"

"Everything," I snap.

He holds up a hand before I continue. "Easy, son. Think. What does she gain if she’s your bride? Your wrath. Her lack of freedom. Punishment."

I talk over him. "Yes. Of course. She earned that by putting our entire family at risk." He shakes his head and raises a palm.

"You don’t need to explain to me what’s at stake or why you’re angry." He doesn’t approve of our criminal empire but understands that his grandchildren were thrust into a life we couldn’t escape. He’s the calming presence in our family, offering wisdom in a world filled with brutality.

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