Page 50 of Unveiled

She blinked at me, her tears slowing. “I don’t?”

“Of course not.” I stood up, scanning the bank until I found a few flat stones, then held one out to her. “You just need this—and a little practice.”

She hesitated before reaching for the rock, her small hand brushing against mine. “How do I do it?”

“Come here,” I said, gesturing to the water. My voice was rough, but I softened it as much as I could. I didn’t have time for this—Rafail wouldn’t like me wasting time here.

But I wanted to show her.

She scrambled to her feet, her too-big shoes slipping on the wet grass. I crouched low, showing her how to angle her arm and release the stone just right. Then, with a flick of my wrist, I sent it skipping across the surface—once, twice, three times before it sank into the depths.

“Wow,” she whispered, her mouth hanging open.

“Your turn,” I said, stepping back to give her space.

She tried to imitate my movements, frowning in concentration, but her first throw landed with a heavy splash. No skips.

“Not like that,” I said, smirking. “You have to flick it just right. It should hit the surface lightly enough to skip again, not sink.”

And she did it. Over and over and over again, she tried, stubborn as ever, until finally, one of her rocks skipped once. She leaped into the air, her laugh bright and unrestrained. It was beautiful. Priceless. I wished I could capture that sound and replay it when the noise in my head got too loud.

“Did you see that?” she said, turning to me, her eyes lit up. For one second, she looked older than her years.

And for one second, I forgot the noise in my head. The only voice was… hers. “Not bad,” I said, allowing myself a small smile.

She was tougher than she looked. She picked up another rock and skipped it again. And then another.

“I wasn’t crying because of Eli,” she admitted after a while.

“I know.”

I didn’t meet her eyes as I picked up more flat rocks and held them in the palm of my hand. I had figured out that people didn’t like it when they were being vulnerable and you looked them in the eyes.

“You prepared to tell me what it was?”

She took a sharp breath, then looked at me. “What would you do if I told you the truth?”

What would I do? What a strange question. “Listen,” I said, confused.

“No—” She looked away. “You’re too protective sometimes. People are afraid of you, Semyon.”

Good. People should be. I was fucking Bratva, coming into my own.

But I needed to know.

“Are you?” I asked, my voice low.

She shook her head with wide eyes. “Afraid of you?”

I swallowed, unsure if I really wanted to hear her answer.

“Sometimes,” she whispered. Then she looked back at the water. “And then I remember who you are. Just Semyon. Like a brother to me.”

Like a brother to me. Why did that cut so deep?

The sound of voices behind us caught her attention. She looked terrified, her eyes wide.

“Why are you afraid?” I asked, a simmering anger building in my veins. My hands clenched into fists. I leaned in closer, so close our breaths mingled, and I could see the way she drew in a breath. “Who hurt you?”

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