Page 112 of Blood & Snow
"It's the only one I can give you."
Irina's face crumples, her composure finally breaking.
Tears track down her cheeks as she reaches for my hands, gripping them between her own.
"You're scaring me," she admits.
"You're my little sister. I watched you take apart radios when you were seven, watched you memorize textbooks while other girls played with dolls. You're brilliant, Nadya. You could have been anything."
Could have been.
Past tense, dreams buried with our mother.
"I'm fine," I lie.
"You're not fine. You barely eat, you never sleep. You jump every time the phone rings."
Her grip tightens.
"And now this."
She looks around the apartment.
"This looks like expensive generosity from someone who wants to own you."
The observation strikes too close to the truth. Xander's gifts aren't gestures of affection.
They're territorial markers, his way of staking claim to what belongs to him.
The tree, the presents, even the coat I wear all broadcast the same message.
This woman is mine.
And as it communicates to his enemies, it's a good thing, but maybe in my sister's eyes, it's evil.
"Maybe I should take the children to stay with Aunt Vera," Irina says quietly.
Terror floods through me.
"No, please."
"Why?"
Because Xander would notice.
Because questions would be asked.
Because the moment his interest in me becomes a liability instead of an asset, I become disposable.
"Because they're happy here. Look at them. When's the last time you heard Mikhail laugh like that?"
"Happiness bought with dirty money isn't happiness."
The phrase catches me off guard.
Dirty money.
If only she knew how accurate her instincts are.
