Page 3 of Unveiled

“She was when you knew her. She isn’t now. Marriage to Anya secures the bakery and with it, the harbor. It strengthens our family’s power and cuts the Irish off at the knees.”

I shake my head, grateful he can’t see me right now. I’m supposed to protect her, not use her in this endless game.

I’m silent for long moments, unable to respond.

Anya. Beautiful, headstrong, willful, and brilliant. I remember her sitting in the corner of her room with her freckled nose wrinkled in concentration, reading book after book while ignoring her chores, when she wasn’t risking her neck down by the stupid fucking creek.

I grind my teeth together as Rafail continues. “You marry her. Inherit the bakery, and it becomes ours. We pull that pawn right from under The Irish’s greedy hands, and from there, we control the routes they’ve been sniffing around. Tighten our hold on the region.”

I barely hear him. All I can think about is Anya.

Marry her.

A sharp rise of blood pulses through my temples as my hands tighten around the wheel. My teeth grind together. “Anya’s grown up, her brother’s made enemies—ours and others—and she’s out there.” I swallow hard. “Alone. And the Irish are about to take her.”

“Yes.”

“Call her father,” I snap. “And Rafail?”

“Yeah?”

“Make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

I hang up and gun the engine.

Chapter 2

ANYA

I yawn so widelythat my eyes water, then shake myself awake. I was up before the sun rose and made my way to the bakery in the dark to discover one of our ovens broken and a notice about the increase in the cost of flour. Now Stefan needs help with his homework.

My head is pounding, and my vision blurs. The relentless grind makes a good night’s sleep seem like a pipe dream.

But my family needs me.

“I can’t remember how to do this,” I admit with chagrin as I drop the pencil on the table. The numbers on the page swim in front of my eyes, mocking me. I was a good student once—good enough to make my teachers proud. My mother. But now, the weight of keeping the family afloat has turned my brain to mush.

Why is this so much harder than it was backthen?

“Anya.” Stefan sighs. “I have to figure this out!” His eyes blur with unshed tears. He sighs again. “C’mon. You’re smart.”

I lean over and ruffle his hair with a wry smile. “Thanks. Let’s work on the spelling practice next and come back to this. Maybe something will click.”

I can’t help but look into the living room, past the peeling wallpaper and stack of dishes in the sink I haven’t done yet, to where my father is slumped in a chair with an empty bottle of vodka.

He’snot helping with homework tonight.

“Where’s Eli?”

“Who knows,” I mutter, shaking my head, and bite my lip before I blurt outwho cares?Eli can go fuck himself for all I care. He’s become no more than a younger carbon copy of my dad. I don’t say that out loud though. Stefan hero-worships him.

Stefan crosses his arms over his chest. “Heknows how to do this.”

“Well, he’s not here,” I snap, pushing to my feet as guilt gnaws at me. It’s not his fault. I turn to him and squeeze his shoulder. At only eight years old, it isn’t his fault.

I sigh. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I brought you cookies home from the bakery.”

His eyes light up. “Chocolate?”

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