Page 10 of Unveiled

Why?

Her words should’ve made me angry or defensive, I guess.

Coward, monster. Hate.

They repeat in my head, reverberating, not because I believe either of those to be true, but becauseshedoes.

Another note.

Interesting.

Did she say those things out of fear and desperation, or does she truly believe them to be true?

Does it matter?

What I know is that her family has a debt to pay, and I aim to collect.

“She can think what she wants, Rafail. You know it’s in our family’s best interest for me to marry her, and after that little outburst—I’m more invested in this than I was before.”

He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “She’s wrong about you being a coward. You’re the bravest person I know. But monster?” He shrugs and winks at me. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

I shrug and register that too. He might be joking. He might not be. Neither impacts the truth: Monstrous behavior is relative, and how one defines a monster is highly influenced by emotion.

Emotions aren’t functional. They cloud judgment, slow decision-making, and weaken people. My memory holds onto details with ease.

I remember the bold little girl who never backed down, even when the odds were stacked against her. She would stand her ground, whether it was against Eli’s teasing or an adult’s dismissive tone.

I remember the way her hair glowed in the sunlight when she skipped rocks by the creek. I remember the way her tongue stuck out as she practiced until the sun set, and her mother scolded her because she wouldn’t give up until she succeeded.

What I don’t like is the unpredictability of her emotions and the chaos they bring. My world is ordered and predictable, and I won’t let even the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met change that.

I replay the way she looked standing before me—her auburn hair in a messy bun, her hazel eyes flashing at me. She’s so much smaller than I remembered, but I guess I’m bigger now. Still, her presence filled the room like a tempest.

Mytempest.

I remember the way heat rose in my chest and my hands acted of their own accord. She has the ability to make me behave in a way no one else ever has.

I call my sister Yana. She answers on the first ring. “We have a wedding to plan. Nothing fancy, Yana. I want it brief and businesslike, only our family and associates.”

“So I heard. Are you sure?” she asks, her voice, as usual, dripping with sarcasm. “Because I was just about to bookthe Kremlin and order matching tiaras for everyone. You’re killing my vision here, Semyon.”

“Yana.”

“Alright. I’m on it.”

I’d planned my encounter with Anya with surgical precision, and her storming in here tonight wrecked those plans. Yet something about her passion and fury… I’m fighting the urge to… feel.

And that’s what scares me most of all.

Chapter 5

ANYA

I barely processhow I get home. I don’t really know Semyon’s brother Rodion. He was young when his parents died, and I always got the impression Rafail kept him close to home. Semyon was the only one in their family who came to our house.

I know Rodion got married to a woman from the States. But everyone knows when a man of the Kopolov Bratva marries.

I suspect I might like Rodion if I talked with him—he seems the softer of the three brothers, though I should know by now that my first impressions of peoplesuck.

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