Page 12 of Unveiled

She didn’t know Semyon like I did. She doesn’t know how laser-focused he was when he wanted something, how determined he was when he set his eyes on a target.

I do.

“I can… I can loan you some money. I’ve got a little stashed away, I could?—”

“Babe. I love you,” I say, swallowing a fresh sob. “I love you so much. But no. Running isn’t an option.”

I can’t tell her that leaving the bakery my mother started would break me. I couldn’t do that to her. I was there the day she opened her doors. I was the one who sat on the kitchen counter, swinging my feet, as she taught me how to proof bread, showed me the perfect color of creamed butter,and when she taught me the intricacies of making the perfect loaf of sourdough.

It would feel like burying my mother all over again.

“What if you… What if you pretend to be really sick? Maybe under that stern exterior, the man actually has a heart.” In my mind’s eye, I see his cold, expressionless eyes.

She has no idea.

“Maybe if he knows you’re like… dying of cancer or something, he’ll show some mercy. You could fake it?”

“Ophelia,” I say patiently. “He’s one of the most powerful men in Russia. You know that.”

“Which is why I think you’re ballsy asfuck,” she interrupts.

Ugh, where did ballsy get me though?

I finish, “…and he would have access to doctors who would make it very clear I’m not on my deathbed. Then what?”

She sighs. “Right. God.”

Her voice trails off. It’s rare she’s at a loss for words.

“How long did he give you?”

I look at the broken clock on the kitchen stove that’s missing half a digit and squint.

“I have twenty-three hours left.”

I know Semyon well enough to know he meant that literally.

Her silence stretches for long moments before shefinally whispers, “Anya, all I can tell you is… I’ll take care of Stefan. I won’t let your father neglect him.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. Stefan can hold his own with my father; I know that much, as he’s had enough hours without me here to fend for himself. And while my father is a selfish, useless asshole, he doesn’t hurt him.

“Thanks,” I whisper. The word hangs in the air between us. “I have to go.”

Maybe I can get some sleep, and when I wake up, the universe will magically present me with the answers to my troubles.

Maybe not.

I can’t run. I know it’s futile. Semyon’s reach is too far, his control too absolute.

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

I go to bed, burying my childhood dreams of actual love. Of freedom. Of hope.

I only have a few hours before I have to wake and go to the bakery.

In my dreams, I nearly drown in the little creek by my house. I’m screaming for someone to help me.

No one does.

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