Page 29 of The Wraith & Her Killer

Despite crying after him, pleading for him to justhearme, to believe what I was saying, he walked out the door, locking it behind him. I was left alone for several days. Papa stopped coming in to check on me after the first few days had passed and I would not relent on trying to convince him that Boris was a traitor. Each time, itwas as if some of the light in his eyes left him when he walked out the door. Meals were still brought, but I felt there was no use in nourishing a failing body. I spent my days alone. Nights were filled with reliving the nightmare of watching Adris die over and over again. Or dreams where I tried to commit the sound of his voice and memorize the feel of his touch.

You’ve always had the power over me, Wraith.

My week in isolation passed in an agonizing blur of tears and mourning the man who stole me away in the middle of the night and reclaimed my heart as his all over again. My isolation from the world had shown me that there is no world where I exist and Adris does not.

His last command is one I intend to break. He doesn’t get to barrel back into my life, only to leave it just as quickly, and have the audacity to ask me to live the rest of my life without him. I just have to bide my time.

Today isthe first day I’ve been let out of my room.

The service for Adris, Calix, and Rune was about as impersonal as you could get, but you can believe that his father put on a perfect show. I sat between my father, his robot of a wife, and Boris. He’d pretended to console me when rogue tears fell, but his bruising grip was anything but. To everyone in attendance, he’d shown our world how deeply he mourned the loss of his only son, who died while eliminating the manipulative enemy that was Santino Ferrero.

It took everything in me to not react.

I couldn’t stay while they lowered the caskets into the ground. They weren’t in there anyway.

When we arrived back at my father’s estate, I expected to be ushered back into my cell—because that’s what it truly was—but instead I was escorted into Papa’s office. A place I was never allowed before.

“Odessa,” my father calls, standing at the liquor bar set up in the corner of the room. He turns to me, his eyes still haunted when they land on me. “Come. Sit.”

He gestures to an ornate wingback chair. I’m hesitant to move from my spot in the doorway because everything about this screams ulterior motive.

After ten years, Mikhail Kuznetsov hardly looks like himself anymore. As if the loss of both me and my mother really took a toll on his health as well as his appearance.

Reluctantly, I slowly inch my way across the room and take a seat in the chair. Papa swirls the ice around in his tumbler while he sits in the matching chair across from me.

I fidget, growing more uncomfortable by the second because he just sits there, looking at me. I don’t know what to say to him, because for years I’d hoped he would find me, showing just how much I meant to him, even as his bastard child. And while he did search for me, I’d fallen victim to the man in which he had entrusted as his confidant. His second in command. The man who intends to overthrow my father.

He clears his throat and says in a low tone laced with sadness and regret, “I can’t believe you’re really here. I knew, Iknewthat you were out there.”

Maybe if I pull the sympathy card, he’ll believe me. “I’ve missed you so,somuch Papa.” It’s true. I knew my father loved me as much as a Pakhan could. But if Adris could find me, even by happenstance, why couldn’t he?

His eyes flick to mine at my words, but something dark flashes for all of a moment before he blinks and his expression completely shifts. My brow furrows at the sudden change, but before I can analyze it, there’s a knock on the door.

“Enter,” my father commands.

All of the blood drains from my face when Boris walks through, his posture poised, looking nothing like a man mourning his son.

The closer he draws, the more he kicks my fight or flight response into high gear, and I seriously contemplate running.

“You wanted to see me, Mikhail?” If he were any other man, he’d be dead for addressing my father in such a casual way.

“Yes, please have a seat.” Papa directs him to the chair right next to me and my skin crawls with unease. He turns to me with soft, apologetic eyes. I know what’s coming and yet it still hits me like a severe punch to the gut.

“Odessa,” he begins. It feels like the start of a clock ticking down to my doom. “Today has been a very rough day for all of us.” He says this as if he has even the slightest idea of the pain I’ve been living through today. His eyes shift to Boris. “I am deeply saddened at the loss of your son. Please accept my deepest condolences.”

Boris nods as if he actually gives a shit, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

“It also goes to show that you never know when an enemy will strike, and I cannot risk anyone else in the family.” He sucks in a shaky breath, raking a hand through his slicked back curls and brings his eyes back to me. “Iwill notlose another—loseyou, again.”

“Sir?” Boris asks, as if he’s completely clueless as to what’s going on.

My father has the good sense to look remorseful. “I propose a marriage to further protect you, my little one.”

“No,” I whisper, but Boris places his hand on my knee and squeezes so tight that I know it will leave another bruise.

“I’m sorry, Odessa. I know I just got you back, but I fear this must be done. I know that Boris will protect you with his life, as he has protected me.”

Not if I have anything to say about it.

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