Page 74 of Unholy Tsar

“Who did this to you?” he growls, pushing past me into the bathroom.

I close the door with a sigh, “Nobody did anything, I–I just—”

“You just what?”

“I just realized how out of my depth I am. I don’t belong here, Maksim.”

After a moment of confusion, his hard face softens. He walks up to me, tenderly cupping my face between his hands, “Neither do I, dushen’ka.”

I can’t help but sink into his warmth. For a little while, he just caresses my face, then his hand drops, and he takes my hand, intertwining our fingers.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“But the dinner isn’t over yet,” I protest weakly.

“Fuck this dinner. We’re done.”

He starts walking, and I’m left with two choices: either walk out with him or be dragged out. I choose the former.

Still, I don’t wait until we’re actually outside to ask the obvious. “Where are we going?”

“I want to show you something,” he answers, opening the passenger door for me. Before I can ask any follow-up questions, he clicks it shut. I watch as he discusses something with his men, then quickly gets into the driver’s side.

“You’re driving?” I ask in surprise. “What about the others?”

“They’re going back to the hotel. We’re going on a little excursion.” Confusion must be written all over my face because he gives me a small smile as he starts the car. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“We're taking a trip to the past.”

“Who’s past?”

“Mine.”

26

MAKSIM

Cecilia watches out the window in silence as I drive us to the town I grew up in. It’s almost pitiful, how the gorgeous mansions give way to townhouses and those townhouses morph into dilapidated apartment buildings the closer we get.

I take the last turn, and there it is.

The old signboard with the town’s name and population has disappeared, but I can still see it in my mind’s eye. Yet, beyond that, I can’t recognize much else. As we drive down the main street, I realize just how far the place has deteriorated.

It’s almost hard to believe. I didn’t think it could get any worse than when I was a kid, but I was wrong. The street lamps don’t even flicker, leaving the town bleak and depressing. The road itself is little more than mud, and a sickly haze seems to hang in the air just above the dirty earth.

I steal a glance at Cecilia after turning down my old street. She’s sitting up straight and solemnly staring out the window.

Has she guessed where I’m taking her?

As I ease the car to a stop in front of the charred remains of my childhood home and switch off the engine, I announce quietly. “Here we are.”

She turns in her seat to face me. “And where exactly is here?”

“This is where I grew up.” I point at the skeletal remains of the house that used to be my mother’s pride and joy.

She nods slowly and looks at the house, then down the rest of the street. “It’s a ghost town…”