Page 91 of Unveiled

I stand frozen, torn between fear and awe, at the full weight of his wrath in this small space between us.

“Do you think they saw… what…. Oh god, what we did?”

Of course they did.

His lips press into a thin line. “They’d better play it on repeat because it’ll be the last thing they ever see before I cut their fucking eyes out.”

I close my eyes and stifle a moan. I am in way,wayover my head.

Chapter 23

ANYA

The bellover the entrance to the bakery jangles so hard I look up, startled. I know that sound. That anger.That man.

My father storms into the bakery reeking of vodka and sweat, his face mottled and angry, hands clenched like a man ready to strike. I stand behind the counter, fingers curling around the edge of the countertop. Every day I come in here Semyon shadows me, but right now he’s in the back, unloading the latest deliveries of baked goods. Turns out he’s not a huge fan of me lifting the enormous bags of flour and sugar.

Stefan sits at a table, eating a snack and working on schoolwork. He freezes, his hand suspended in the air holding a pencil.

“Stefan,” I say quietly. “Go to the back, please.” Thankfully, Stefan is much better at listening these days and quickly scoots behind the counter and to the back.

I turn to my father. “You’re not welcome here.”

He ignores me, of course. He always does. His bloodshot eyes land on me with disdain. “You think you’re too good for me now? Playing princess with your husband? Youoweme.”

I stand my ground. “I owe you nothing. You need to leave.”

“The fuck I do.” He walks past me and pushes the swinging door to the back open. I know exactly where he’s going—the safe, that’s tucked away in the back. Have I changed that passcode yet?

I follow behind him. “I told you to leave.”

Semyon’s nowhere to be found, though the back door’s partially open. Stefan, however, stands facing us, his feet planted on the ground and his hands on his hips.

“She said leave,” he says bravely, even as his little voice wavers.

“Stefan—”

“Anya said toleave,”Stefan repeats. My father ignores him, pushes past him, and opens the cupboard where the safe is.

“Don’t you dare?—”

“No!” Stefan yells, reaching for my father’s arm.

Oh no.

My father shakes him off and grabs Stefan too hard. Stefan winces and cries out as my father growls, “You mouthy little shit, just like your sister. I owned this bakery.” He shakes Stefan, lifting him straight off his feet, as he raises his palm.

“No!” I scream.

The next moment’s a blur of movement and sound. The sharp crack of a body hitting the wall. Stefan falls to the floor, running to me, as Semyon fists my father’s collar and slams him against the wall, his fingers flexing as if he’s trying to decide how many bones he’s going to break. His face is carved from ice.

“Did he hurt you, Anya?”

I shake my head. My voice trembles. “No.”

“Stefan?”

Stefan shakes his head. “He grabbed my arm, but I’m okay.”

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