Chapter 25
1664words
Somehow, though I know I had awful nightmares, I don't wake up with the usual migraine. Historically, after terrible nights, I'm wrecked the next morning. This time, I wake up with a cartoonish, cat-like stretch that makes my body sing.
It's because of him. My attention goes to my bed, the spot Asher sat while he cradled me against himself. Asher chased the demons away. I didn't even know that was possible. Throwing open my curtains, I recoil at the bright sun. Then I see the clock on my dresser.
No way, it's noon? I slept that long? No wonder I feel amazing.
So what if it's late? Not like I have anywhere to be. I take my time cleaning myself up. I even pick a cuter dress than usual, a long, flowing green one that makes my eyes pop. Sitting at my vanity, I curl my hair off my neck; I could do it with my eyes shut at this point.
Subconsciously, I'm trying to look nice for Asher. I want to thank him for how he comforted me last night. I hope he was able to get as much sleep as I did in the end.
Halfway down the hall is a woman. The tall, triangle-tapered windows cast beams of daylight across her lithe figure. She's in profile, chin tilted down as she taps at her phone. If a person could be described as sharp, that would be her. From her black bob to her sloped nose to her knees below her thigh-length skirt, she's nothing but angles. I have a funny feeling that if I were to touch her, I'd get sliced up.
Who is that? Slowing my step, I remain where I am. She hasn't noticed me yet. I'm free to watch her and to mull over why such a beautiful woman would be here in Asher's home.
She's not part of the staff, based on her outfit.
Claws of jealousy begin to grip my heart. How does she know him? What is she doing here?
'Mila, good to see you."
Asher is speaking from the opposite end of the hallway. The woman—Mila, apparently—glances at him, stuffing her phone in the pocket of her leather jacket. 'Did you summon me just to make me wait?" she asks haughtily.
So she WAS waiting for him …
Mila twists, locking her eyes on me. 'Your walls have ears, by the way," she says with a smirk.
Choking on the air I try to swallow down, I cough haggardly, my face turning pink. I move into full view. Both of them seem entertained at my approach.
'Hi. I'm Camila."
'I know who you are," she replies, her face inscrutable and expressionless.
Jealousy rears its head inside me again, and I fight the urge to demand to know who she thinks she is.
Asher comes closer, his thumbs in his belt. 'Let me introduce you to Mila properly."
I remain silent and eye her with suspicion. She doesn't shy back from the challenge, and her lip hooks into a smirk that looks more like a sneer.
When I join them in the hall, I realize she's two inches shorter than me. Yet Mila holds herself like she's the biggest figure in the room. Curious about where her confidence comes from, I eye her up and down. I think she must be the same age as me, or close.
The satisfied smirk grows slightly. 'You're wondering how I know Asher," she says.
No patronymic, I note. The familiarity between them makes my stomach drop. Did he also take her out to a theater alone? Did she also return the favor?
I shrug as indifferently as I can as I fight back the waves of jealousy goading me to wrap my fingers around her throat. 'I guess I am."
'She's one of my assassins," Asher explains.
'Mudak!" Mila huffs, rolling her eyes. 'Way to ruin the game. I was having fun watching her figure it out."
Tension fades from my neck at this news. But my relief is replaced by guilt. I shouldn't have assumed the worst.
'Nice to meet you, Mila." I offer her my hand. She squints at it, then gives it a squeeze hard enough that I wince. There's an almost impossible-to-believe strength to her. But unlike Asher, hers is understated due to her small size.
Maybe if I ask nicely, she'll tell me her secret.
'Sorry to end this, but Mila and I have a meeting," Asher says. 'I'll find you after. We can have dinner."
'I'd like that," I reply earnestly.
Mila crosses her arms. 'Don't make me have to come finish your food for you this time."
I'm confused by what she means. Asher furrows his brow, avoiding my eyes before striding around the corner. Mila follows him, tossing me a finger waggle before vanishing.
An assassin. It doesn't surprise me that Asher employs such people. He's desperate to win his war against Yannick. Her presence is like a splash of cold reality after last night, and I'm once again reminded that none of this is normal.
Yet … something has changed. I no longer want to run away from the world inhabited by Asher. I want to dive deeper into it and help him, not only for my own selfish reasons but because I know he'd appreciate the help.
I'm not a fighter, certainly not a killer. If I could learn more about Yannick himself, maybe … maybe I could find a way to be useful!
My first venture sends me searching for Layla. She's writing things down on a chart—a house schedule of some sort—in the sitting room downstairs. At first she's pleased to see me. But when I explain why I'm there, her disposition changes.
'I have no answers for you," she says crisply.
'Layla, please! Tell me about Yannick. Anything."
She looks like she wants to spit out something that tastes bad. 'We both can spend our time in better ways."
'But I want to help like Mila does!"
The pencil in her fingers breaks on the page. She scowls at it, then at me. 'If you want to help, go practice being a proper head of the house. That's your role, not trying to become some silent killer like Mila Kharitonov." Picking up the chart, she marches from the room, leaving me to stew.
Groaning in frustration, I flop onto the chair she was just in. Even though I feel we've grown closer, no amount of becoming the perfect 'future wife" for the pakhan will get her to tell me the things I want to know.
She's got the wrong idea. I don't want to be like Mila; I just want to be as useful as she is.
Realizing what I need to do, I fly out of the chair with such force it topples over. Of course, Mila! Sprinting through the mansion, ignoring the stares from the staff, I hurry back to the upper hallway where I last saw the assassin. Mila will come back this way. I can ask her.
My diligence pays off. No more than half an hour later, Mila reappears. Asher isn't with her; I guess he's still handling things in his office. She spots me right away.
'Congratulations on your wedding," she says. 'I'll try to clear my calendar to make sure I'm free next week for it."
My mouth dries out completely. 'But we haven't set a date."
'Asher has." Mila purses her lips into a crease. 'He didn't tell you? How typical."
An old thorn I'd thought had left my heart burrows deeper. Asher set a date for our fake wedding, and he didn't bother to inform me? Is the event that unimportant to him? Am I that much of an afterthought? I don't have time to worry about this. There's something else I need to find out. Launching myself forward, I stop short in front of her.
'I need to talk to you."
She leans backward with a wary frown. 'About what?"
'Yannick."
Mila's eyes widen, then become thin slits of distaste. 'He's not exactly a light topic for chitchat."
'No one here will tell me anything about the war. I've gotten scant details at best. It took days for Asher to tell me that Yannick killed his wife."
'He didn't just kill his wife," she spits. Her hands make fists, and I think she's barely controlling herself from punching the wall. 'She was pregnant when he murdered her."
The room sways; I prop myself on the nearest window to stay on my feet. 'What?"
'Shot three times in the stomach while she pleaded for her baby's life." Mila shapes her hand like a gun, aiming it at me. 'And then he shot her in the head."
I cringe each time as she jerks her finger up and down.
The details are scant, but they're horrific enough. With only two sentences, Mila has painted a visceral picture that I can't wipe from my mind. The room upstairs with the crib, the toys, left to rot under years of dust. They weren't just planning a family ... They were about to have one. Until Yannick stepped in.
Rocking forward, I clutch my stomach as I crouch on the floor.
Mila catches me before I can tip over. 'Are you okay? Maybe I shouldn't have said all that."
'No!" I snap, glaring at her with my eyes wet with tears. 'I needed to know. Thank you." Now I understand. All the terrible things Asher did, the things that made me hate him, that turned him into a monster ... They were all born from Yannick's actions.
Asher is a man driven by the curse of revenge. His desire to avenge his wife is a never-ending struggle for justice. It forces him to do evil things.
That's the missing puzzle piece I needed this entire time.
And now, I finally see the full picture that is Asher Volkov.
