Page 47 of Silent Ties

His fingers press harder into my waist. “I know. And my dad and Dima are reiterating that right now. But Marissa also took out Paublino’s favorite nephew last year. Anger leads to rash decisions.”

I swear he’s quoting his father.

“Are we not. . . am I not safe here?” Where is Sergei?

A hand smooths over my thigh, strong and comforting. “We are. But there’s one place he’ll never try to go and that’s the estate. It’s just a precaution.”

There’s an overwhelming sensation of the walls closing in on me when I think about the last time I was there. Trapped inthe bathroom with Yelena twisting my nipple. My cheek tingles at the memory.

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not going.”

His lips press together. “It’s not up for debate.”

“No.” I push him back, his face darkening further. He lets me pace, his brow knitting together while he studies me like I’m an animal at the zoo. “I don’t want to go.”

My voice shakes. I need to call Meena. I should probably get away from this wall of windows in case Paublino’s men have a sniper on me.

But more importantly, I need to figure out where the fuck Marissa is keeping Daisy.

Gibberish comes out of my mouth, my thoughts incoherent.

“Sit back down,” he demands softly.

I walk straight into the bathroom, bypassing the toilet and shower and bathtub and arrive at the giant closet. It’s pristinely organized, with a fresh linen scent clinging to the hung items. I curl into a ball on the carpet.

As a girl I hid in my closet countless times. When my mom drank too much. When her boyfriend’s drank too much. When the shitty men she married wanted to find me in the middle of the night.

The old habit comes back to me with alarming dexterity. Nerves course down my body, pins and needles sensations electrifying my skin. My limbs curl around one another and I lay, tears soaking the fuzzy carpet.

Distantly, I feel Max hovering over me. Probably wondering about his defective wife. I don’t get up, though, and he doesn’t make me.

Olga arrives, meaning dawn’s broken. She shuffled in at one point and stared down at my pathetic state. A disgruntled noise lodged in her throat. I ignored her. She told me to get up. I ignored her some more. I couldn’t understand what Russian words she spoke, but eventually, she went away.

Max has been on and off the phone most of the morning. Mainly in the living room, but occasionally, I hear the tread of his feet in the bedroom. If he peeks in to check on me I never see it. My back faces the door to the bathroom.

The carpet is rough against my cheek, but I don’t get up.

Sometimes, I hear different voices speaking in Russian. Multiple boots walk through the house. Extra guards being placed on duty.

“She’s not getting up,” Olga’s voice says. I twitch, my muscles moving for the first time in forever because she’s gotten close again. “She’s stubborn. Stupid girl.”

My jaw clenches painfully.

Can a girl not have a moment to deal with her grief?

Not in this world.

The whisper wraps around me like a cord.

It’s true this world doesn’t deal with things in a familiar way. It’s a bitterly cruel world.

“She has lunch,” Olga says.

My brow furrows when Max speaks. “Not today. Call it off.”

Olga’s the only person I’ve ever heard put up a fuss with Max. “Your mother isn’t hiding.”

“My mother doesn’t have a kill order out for her currently.”