He gave me a choice between dying as Robert’s wife or living as someone else—which puts him in possession of a dangerous weapon Robert Winthorp never utilized: power.
“So, what happens now?” I wonder, feeding off my latest dose of his hateful drug.
“We wait,” he says, shrugging. “Vanya knows what to do. In the morning, my plan should come to fruition. When the dust settles, we return to Pecavi—”
“Pecavi?” I echo. I’ve heard that name before. “Is that the name of your house?”
Rather than supply an answer, he deliberately lets my question hang on the air. It seems I’ve found his own Sergei: the house is off-limits.
I let him draw his boundary and leave it be. But I don’t sleep. I cling to my tormentor and listen to his heart beat as the forest sways around us.
And I never let my guard down.