Page 94 of Dance with Death

“You’re a real chancer, aren’t ya?” Murphy says, coming up beside me and clapping me on the back. “Quite the risk offering up such a large sum for a slave in her condition. Take this to the board, Nikolai.”

I shrug his hand off my back. “This is no game of chance. I understand the risks of her remaining in his care. And if I take this to the board, she’ll be decommissioned.”

“Why does it bother you, Nikolai?” Vigo asks, taunting me with a tilt of his head. “Does she matter to you now?”

I don’t have to answer his questions.

“Ten million for Anya.” I hear how pathetic and desperate the offer sounds.

Ten millionfor a slave?

“No,” Vigo says, his face dropping swiftly into seriousness as he reaches out a hand toward Anya. “Come with me, my little Russian doll.”

Anya looks up at Ezra and it’s as if a million words are spoken between them with just a look. It’s almost as though she’s saying goodbye to him and it feels like someone has driven a knife into my hollow chest. I have no heart, so the knife only grates between my rib bones, slicing around, trying to find purchase on the beating pump that doesn’t exist.

It reminds me just how empty I am.

Vigo takes Anya and they go, heading toward the grand staircase. She’s hardly arrived at the reception, only to be gone again in a flash.

What was the point of bringing her down here in the first place?

I glance up at them as they climb the staircase, Vigo taking the steps at a near jog as Anya barely drags herself up by the railing. He reaches the balcony landing at the top and turns to watch her frail form amble to follow. Vigo’s eyes meet mine and a dreadful smirk appears on his face.

I immediately understand why he left with haste—to punishherformyoffer. Except it’s not a punishment if she hasn’t done anything to deserve it. It’s just torment for torment’s sake—for Anya and for me.

My offer has been denied.

I may be empty now, but I remember the promise of Anya’s warm body and penetrating eyes and the way that would fill me for the moments we were together. It was the only thing that kept me getting out of bed and continuing on when my family had been wiped out. That promise kept me from eating a bullet on several occasions.

Now I’m faced with a choice.

Accept that I can’t buy her back and that I will be forced to live without her or do something about it.

I can do something about it tonight.

I look at Ezra, who looks as though his grief and rage might swallow him whole. The decision I’ve made is going to require reckless abandon.

I knew no one who was as recklessly impulsive as Ezra.

I have an idea of what I want to do, though I wish I didn’t feel so compelled to do it.

It’s risky.

Dangerous.

Yet I know it’s time for me to play my trump card, take responsibility for what I’ve done, and ensure Anya’s future.

I don’t want to feel guilt or shame or responsibility. Those are feelings I’m not accustomed to and feelings I don’t intend to have for much longer.

I must rectify my shame by taking back what’s mine, the only family I have left. It will cost me my reputation and respect within the four families, but what can they do? There are no other Mikhailov men to replace me…and apparently none on the way.

Consequences with the board be damned.

I’m going to steal Anya back.

I’m taking her tonight.

Chapter 23

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