Page 96 of Unleashed

“God, we were so scared,” he says in my ear. “I felt so guilty for allowing you to come here and then knowing you were gone. Polina, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you’re alright.” He holds me in front of him. “You’ll tell us the truth about how he treated you?”

I nod. “I am. Oh god, I’ve missed you all so much.”

I’m crying freely by the time Lev hugs me. Ollie comes in to join us, and in seconds, I’m a blubbering mess, and we all try to talk at once. Viktor can practically put his arms around all of us, but it’s a crying, messy, sniffy reunion. We’re all talking at once.

“I couldn’t remember you,” I sniff, swiping at my eyes. “I didn’t know who I was, and they told me I’d remember you, but?—”

“—couldn't find you. Looked everywhere. Scoured Russia until?—”

“—beside ourselves.”

“Are yousureyou’re alright?” It’s Mikhail, who’s pried the others off me and now holds me at arm’s length, his eyes boring into mine. Speaking in a low tone, he leans in close. “We don’t have much time, Polina. Did he hurt you?”

Did he hurt me?

How do I answer that question?

Did he tie me to his bed and lie to me, telling me I was his wife and I’d taken vows?

Yes.

Did he dominate me, force obedience from me, and make good on punishing me when I pushed back?

He did.

I swallow hard.

Did he show me he loved me? Did he prove himself to be authentic and real and so absolutely devoted he’d burn the world for me?

He did.

So I give Mikhail a watery smile. “Hurt me? It was nothing I couldn’t handle.” And when Mikhail’s eyes narrow on me, I state the argument he can’t defeat. “He did nothing you wouldn’t have done, Mikhail. Nothinganyof you wouldn’t have done.”

Mikhail, my fierce and protective warrior of a brother, who tethered his own wife to him as a form of punishment for hacking into the Bratva of The Cove. Aleksandr, madly in love and father to the children of his own wife, promised to him in a loveless union of an arranged marriage. I could go on because each one of them could tell a similar story of an unlikely union, family loyalty, and love despite the odds.

My mother enters the room. She stares at me for a few seconds as if she can’t believe her eyes before she rushes to me. Thefamiliar warmth of her embrace makes something deep inside me unravel.

Mom.

I fit here. I belong here. It’s as familiar to me as my own two hands being held by her.

Mom.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers in my ear. “I’m partly to blame for all this, and I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me.”

I wipe at my eyes. “I think there’s a lot of forgiveness that will have to be granted.”

But how is she possibly to blame?

The tension in the room is palpable, but we’re closer to the truth than we’ve ever been.

“Sit down, everyone, please,” Zoya says softly in her childlike voice as she enters the room carrying a large tray of tea and cups. “I find it’s easier to have a pleasant conversation when we’re sitting.”

I love her so. Rafail takes the tray from her despite her protests and slides it onto the coffee table. “Semyon. Get the vodka for those of us who need something stronger than tea.”

“You’re wise, Zoya,” Grandfather says, his eyes twinkling at her. “You have more than your parents to thank for that.”

She’s so cute when she blushes.

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