Page 125 of Mafia and Scars

Then, like she realizes I’m here watching, her whole face shifts. But not back to the sunshine. Not the kind of light she normally carries in her eyes when she sees me. This is…forced. A crack in the sunshine that usually radiates from her. “I’m fine.”

But I get the sense she’s not telling the truth. In front of the dresser, she starts to unclip her hair, her fingers shaking just enough for me to notice. Something inside me feels sharper now. “I texted you. You didn’t read it?” I ask.

Her hand stills. “I did.” She doesn’t look at me when she speaks. Just stares at her reflection in the mirror, eyes too wide, too bright.

“Have I…upset you?” Panic starts to race through me like a pack of wild horses. I’m bad at understanding emotions. Fuck, I must have done something wrong…

Her eyes flicker to mine in the mirror, and there’s something in them. Guilt? Fear? But I can’t make out what I’m looking at. “No, it’s not that. You didn’t do anything wrong, Viktor.” Her voice catches, and I immediately step closer to her. “Viktor, something happened...”

Every muscle goes taut, and I freeze. “What?”

She turns from the mirror to fully face me. “He’s b-back.”

My mind scrambles to put a name to who ‘he’ is. Geliy? Or does she mean someone related to the attack on the compound?

Her arms wrap around herself like she’s trying to hold herself together.

“Who?”

Her eyes drop to the ground. “Gennady,” she whispers. “He’s here. In the States. He came to the rink tonight. I’m sorry—I went out without the guards tonight. I thought I’d be okay.”

“I don’t understand. Who’s Gennady?”

“He’s…a former coach from my skating days. It’s complicated. I left skating to get away from him.”

Whoever this man is, or whoever he thinks he is, I can tell he’s dangerous to her. My eyes narrow. “You say he was at the rink?”

She nods. “He came with the Russian team for some international competition.”

“Did he hurt you?” My voice is lethal as it comes out. I step closer without thinking. “Did he…touch you?” I look at her closely. Looking over her arms, exposed beneath her tank top.

“No...”

“What did he want?”

She swallows thickly.

“He threatened you?” It’s a stab in the dark, but her hesitation is all the answer I need. My jaw clenches so hard. “Avelina, what did he say to you?” Whoever this Gennady is, he’s as good as fucking dead. Avelina might not be mine officially, but I’ll not stand by and let some coach from her past threaten her.

She looks up at me. “He’s been keeping tabs on me. They’ve beenwatching me. He said…that…they can see Sofia has the same promise I did.” Her voice chokes as she says her little girl’s name.

I blink, trying to piece together the puzzle. It’s difficult because we’ve talked very little about her past. But I don’t let that frustration show. It’s clear she’s rattled—and very scared. “The same promise? What does he mean?”

“He said she’s…special. That she’s got the same potential that they saw in me. That he’d take her. And me. I d-don’t have a choice.”

My heartbeat is replaced by a wildfire begging to be let loose as rage races through me. “He threatened Sofia?”

She nods again, and her chin trembles.

Panic rises in me like a tidal wave. And I’m no good with crying. Or emotions.

But I shove my discomfort aside. Because I know what I need to do.

And I tug her closer, a soothing hand running down her back.

“I didn’t know…how to describe the hell I went through with him. I didn’t want you to think I was being dramatic.”

“I’d never think that, Avelina.”