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Unlike Helena, she understood that karma was real, and that the Silas would serve it ice-cold.
The smell of beef stroganoff greeted me as I entered the kitchen. Dasha’s guilt often drove her to express her remorse through cooking or baking, or so Igor claimed.
“Go to her room again and I’ll have you fed to the dogs.”
The clinking of utensils stopped. I didn’t have the time or energy to deal with her, and I could already feel a headache brewing.
However, Dasha was an important pawn in the game Igor had started.
She didn’t know it, but she was the one who led us to San Francisco.
Helena had always been elusive, frequently changing locations and making her hard to pin down. Dasha, however, wasn’t as meticulous.
For the past two years, she had been sending money to a cousin of hers, which made tracking her much easier for me.
I was surprised that Dasha was still in touch with a family member after everything she’d been through.
Her past was a dark one: her father had brutally murdered her mother and five-year-old sister with an ax during a drunken rage, simply because his wife had dared to put too many onions in her pelmeni. Little eight-year-old Dasha was found hiding under her father’s car hours later. Viktor Rostava, a former soldier of the Russian military, managed to convince the authorities to rule it as self-defense.
She then spent the next few years with her father before starting work for Igor when she turned eighteen.
But then, she ended up betraying Igor and fleeing the country with Helena.
Opening the fridge, I reached for a beer and turned to look at her.
Dasha was an inconvenience, and her love for Helena’s family had dragged her into this mess. Everything comes full circle, I guess.
She had nearly raised Sofiya, cherishing her as if she were her own, which was a jackpot for me.
The greatest fear people have is losing someone they love, and I could use that to my advantage. My eyes followed her as I drank, the cold liquid awakening my senses. With her pale skin and dark silky hair, she looked straight out of a Tim Burton movie. In her black, emo-looking uniform, she could be the next Hela in Thor.
As she stirred the pot, her eyes met mine.
“I found Dimitri with her,” she said, adding a cup of heavy cream.
Rage surged through me. I set my drink down on the kitchen table.
I hated when someone dared to touch or breathe near something that was mine.
Or at least a duty of mine. Dimitri had been pushing all my buttons since day one. If it weren’t for Igor’s protection, pieces of his corpse would already be in Lake Ladoga.
Revenge is indeed best served cold.
I inhaled deeply. “The only job you have is to bring her food. Don’t let me catch you again.”
Chapter
Ten
“My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes.”
- L.M. Montgomery
Sofiya
I've always despised fairy tales.
As a child, I couldn’t stand princesses relying on others for their happiness and safety. In a world where everyone struggles to survive, the idea of Prince Charming saving the day felt outdated.
