Page 119 of Nemesis

“Fine,” I say, taking another small sip. The liquor streams down my throat like a lit match, heating my blood from the inside out.

I like it.

It chases the cold.

A pained sigh rumbles. “You don’t need to be fine, love. Not with me, anyway.”

I curl up tighter on the sofa. “He’s just a man.”

Lie.

Vasiliy is many things, but that short, silly word could never encompass them all. I’m not even convinced he’s human.

He’s the coat that wraps my shoulders on a cold night. He’s the playful trill of laughter that lightens up the dullest of rooms. He’s the bloody, restless organ that pumps in my chest. And now he’s another thing entirely: on a plane, thousands of miles away.

I know I was the one who told him he could go, but I didn’t expect him to actually leave. To leave me. When the soldiers rushed us in from the garden and bolted the doors before Vas returned, I knew something was very wrong. Dad explained the bounty and the threats. He even tried to pretend he was the one to make him go, but I saw through that fallacy immediately.

You’d have to be a truly horrible person not to understand his actions.

I’m not allowed to be so angry.

But we could’ve found another way. I know it in my heart. I told him we could run. He trained me to withstand threats just like this one. If he had only included me, confided in me…

“Listen, daughter,” Dad says, resting a hand on my bouncing knee. “You and me? We’re made from stubborn stock. We don’t care to admit weakness. But I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to think of that boy as a weakness.”

“You never even liked him,” I mutter against my glass, avoiding his weighted gaze.

“I lost so many years with you. I wasn’t going to enjoy sharing your attention with anyone, let alone some Morozov soldier with a smart mouth and a violent track record.”

A soft chuckle leaves my throat at the description, surprising me.

“But you chose him. Chose him,” he repeats, enunciating each word. “You can’t buy that kind of loyalty in our world. Most people will never experience it.”

Maybe I wish I didn’t have to experience it.

I know the thought is prideful bullshit the second it drifts through my mind. I would choose him a million times over.

Even if he had to leave me every fucking time.

A warm hand tilts my chin. “No matter what last name you use, you, my dear, are a Siderov. And Siderovs never back down.” Dad leans forward, tracing the scar on my cheek. I hold still beneath the prickling touch. “Sometimes, we bend to withstand the storm, but we never snap. When the clouds clear, we stand tall and continue on. It’s what we do.”

His words remind me of something Vasiliy told me once. I had been self-conscious and impatient with the painful process of improvement when he set me straight.

You are building. Rolling vital anchor stones across the field in boiling summer heat. Come winter, those stones will support the cabin that keeps us warm.

I smile to myself. It sure is storming now.

I’ve turned to Dad with a question when the door to his office bursts open.

“Ilya,” Dad shouts, rising to his feet.

The man who stumbles through doesn’t belong to my personal guard. He’s in his mid-forties and has run security for the family for years. If you ever need help, turn to him, Dad said when I first came here. Nothing will faze him.

He seems pretty damn fazed. His knuckles pale around the tight grip on his gun. It’s only when his mouth pops open that I understand why.

“One of the safeguards has been triggered⁠—”

“Which one?” Dad interrupts. I climb to my feet at his alarm.