Page 140 of Beneath the Light of the Moon

The soles of her shoes were soft rubber which silenced her steps as Anika snuck closer in hopes of catching the conversation taking up more time than a typical transaction.

“—understand your hesitation, but this could benefit the whole community,” an unknown male voice said, his words accented and filled with persuasion. Anika’s brow raised.

“In theory, yes, it’s good for the neighborhood, but I don’t want to sell.” Her dad’s voice was strong, his ever defiant attitude shining through.

“Well, this is the best offer you’ll get I’m afraid.”

“I know, and I’m still turning you down.”

Anika stalked closer, a sliver of her face peeking out around the shelf.

“Please,” the unknown man said, his side profile visible to Anika now, “I want to help you out.”

His pressed suit and glinting gold watch spoke volumes. Anika’s stomach clenched with apprehension. Dark hair was combed back stylishly from his face, the temples peppered with gray. He was mostly likely around her father’s age, but had lived amuchdifferent lifestyle. Harsher.

The man’s prominent nose and jaw caught her attention, his features brutal and unforgiving. In that moment, she had a feeling his temperament was as menacing as his face even though his words were coated in sticky honey.

Her dad spoke again, “This store is my livelihood, you can help me, and the community, out by purchasing an item from it.”

The corners of the man’s mouth tipped up, a game of who would give first ensuing. “Of course.” Grabbing the closest item—a magazine with a man’s portrait printed on it—he placed it on the counter for her father to ring up.

Tensions grew thick in the air, and Anika’s heart pounded.

After a couple quiet seconds, the man took his purchase and nodded to her father. “I’ll see you around, sir.”

In response her dad plastered a smile across his face, the gesture genuine to an outsider, but Anikaknew.She knew what it felt like to don a mask to keep others outside of her aching heart. She’d learned it from him, of course.

As the bell chimed again, she moved. Her father’s attention snapped to her. His smile faded and his eyes shifted. “Never trust men in suits, Anika.” She nodded. “Especially when they promise you the world.”

Now, in her closeness, the magazine the man had bought was one professing about the man’s business success and real estate endeavors. His dark hair, defined nose, and sharp jaw all fell into place.

Alek Romanov.

The man who’d offered to buy her dad’s store was Alek Romanov, and he hardlyevertook no for an answer.

* * *

ANIKA AWOKE, UNSURE of how much time had passed since her last bout of consciousness, but her body felt like it’d been stuffed with lead, weighing down any effort she made to get up. But she could feel she’d been laid upon something soft, its cushiony shape molding to her body. And she could feel the brush of a soft blanket. The promise of her senses coming back excited Anika, and she pushed their limits.

With slow movements—ones exhausting her mind—she sent signals to her fingertips and toes, willing them to move. Even if it was just a fraction.

Nothing.

Nothing but darkness ensconced her, and she let it.

* * *

DROPPING HER BOOK bag onto the floor next to the dining room chair she usually did her homework in, Anika realized the table was set. Forfour.

“Mom?” she called out, the smell of food cooking on the stove permeating the air, but her mom was nowhere to be found.

“Coming dear,” drifted down the hall followed by her mom’s framewhisking into the kitchen. An apron still adorned her front—if only to protect nicer clothes underneath—her hair pulled back into a tight, low bun.

“What’s going on?” Anika pointed to the table.

“Oh, I meant to mention, your father and I are having a guest over for dinner.”

“We are?” Both Anika and her father spoke at the same time. His face was unreadable as he entered the kitchen, home from work.