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The reasons for my predicament eluded me, his role in it unclear, but one thing was certain: I shouldn’t have lashed out at him, no matter how justified my anger was.
Pride kept me silent as I examined the plush burgundy carpet beneath me, marveling at the house’s impeccable design.
Ignoring him, I felt his gaze like invisible arrows grazing my skin, adding to the tension. But one arrow pierced my heart when he cruelly insulted me, calling me a whore.
I clenched my fists, refusing to show him my hurt as I left the room.
Grabbing the furry coat from Dasha, I stepped into the wintry wind, raindrops brushing my cheeks. The cold air made it hard to breathe, my throat tightening.
I always believed in honesty, but cruelty masked as honesty was despicable, fueling my loathing for him with each step.
He’s such a prick.
I made my way toward the black SUV, where a tall man with short brown hair and piercing blue eyes, dressed sharply, smiled at me.
“Dobroye utro, Sofiya. Good morning, Sofiya.” His respectful greeting caught me off guard.
I stood there, perplexed, wondering if he could be a part of my family.
“Are you my cousin?” I asked doubtfully.
There were no physical similarities between us; we were complete opposites. But who knew? Maybe that was why he was being polite.
He laughed heartily, his Adam’s apple bobbing, a genuine smile on his lips. He shook his head and gestured for me to take a seat.
“What’s your name?” I asked as I fastened my seatbelt, peering at him through the rearview mirror.
He hesitated, furrowing his brow and scratching the side of his neck. “Dve.”
“Two? Like the number?”
He chuckled as I leaned against the window, my eyelids drooping.
I didn’t hear his response. In fact, I heard nothing as I drifted into sleep, serenaded by the faint whispers of his voice.
But I was rudely awakened by the car’s jolts and the noise of tires against the road.
Stepping out, I walked toward what seemed like a smaller version of a house or a cabin in the middle of nowhere, keeping a distance from the Volk and Dve who were busy talking in Russian.
Most trees had shed their leaves, the remaining ones a vivid spectacle of red and orange hues fading due to the cold. Sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting a mysterious glow. It felt like a scene from an animated movie; I half-expected to see deer greeting us.
The cabin, made of wood, emitted smoke from its chimney and was surrounded by tranquility and silence. As I twirled, trying to capture the beauty around me, a squirrel gathered chestnuts nearby.
The two men moved toward the cabin without looking back, allowing me to approach the creature. I crouched, my heart racing with anticipation, offering chestnuts to the squirrel. It watched cautiously from a branch, sniffing the air.
“Come here, buddy,” I whispered, reaching out. “These are for you.”
Confusion flickered in the squirrel’s tiny eyes, and I felt a bit foolish for persisting.
Deep down, I knew I lacked the strength to climb the tree alongside it.
“Kto ty? Who are you?” A cold object pressed against the back of my neck, and an unfamiliar voice startled me.
Fear shot up my spine as I dropped the nuts, screaming and stumbling, crashing face-first into the mud.
Pain shot through my ankle, and I prayed I hadn’t broken anything as I crawled desperately. The mud impeded my progress, and the pain intensified, making movement nearly impossible.
On the ground, I raised my hands in surrender, staring at the terrified squirrel.
