Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
We’ve also practiced self-defense when we were attacked.
I make a quick mental tally of the weapons I have on me.
But Mikhail doesn't look at my mother. He doesn't look at my brother Aleksandr or Harper. His eyes bore straight into mine.
Shit.
"Polina, you're in danger. You have to go."
The skin at the back of my neck crawls, and a shiver runs down my spine. It's obviously not the first time my family's been in danger. Hell, we've been in so many dangerous situations, I'm damn used to it by now. But it's the first time I've ever seen fear in Mikhail's eyes, and I've seen the man go through a lot. And it's definitely the first time his fear was for… me.
"What is it, Mikhail?" I ask, thankful that my voice doesn't waver either. I will face whatever this is head-on. I will not cower.
"You have to go away. Aria’s discovered something, and you're not safe here anymore." Mikhail’s wife Aria, a world-class hacker, misses nothing.
"Be more specific, please," I say. Outside the window, storm clouds rush in. The gray of early evening has turned dark, and a half-moon illuminates the garden outside my mother's family home. I almost expect a werewolf to howl. I shiver, clutching the ratty hoodie I’ve strewn over my shoulders closer around me.
"Manuel Soloto, head of the cartel in Colombia. He's after you. Remember that Isabella said you weren't safe here anymore?"
"Yes, but I thought she said—"
Mikhail shakes his head. "You thought he changed his mind? That he got married and forgot about you? It was a lie. A ploy. He's not forgotten about you. He's coming after you."
I try to laugh it off, but I fail. "But you guys… You always protect me. We have a whole team of bodyguards. This house is practically a fortress. And you're telling me—"
"Polina," Aleksandr snaps. He never raises his voice to me, but now he almost sounds like our father. I turn and stare at him. "Don’t you know that if Mikhail is telling you you're not safe, you can trust him? You know that he would do everything in his power to protect you. If he's telling you you're not safe, you have to go… quickly. This isn’t the time to talk back."
Jesus. I wrap an arm around my chest and squeeze my shoulder absently.
“I'm supposed to start my classes tomorrow.”
"Who cares about your classes?" Mikhail snaps. "This is what, the tenth time you’ve picked up a different study anyway?"
Tears burn at the back of my eyes, but I blink them away. It’s unlike him to be harsh with me like this. I know he’s afraid, but he doesn’t have to be a dick.
"You heard me," he says. "We have a bunker in Manhattan."
"A bunker?" I stare, and my mouth falls open. "Are you serious right now?"
I close my mouth because my mother is giving me that look. It’s very rare for her to put her foot down, but I can tell by the narrowness of her eyes and the tightness of her lips that she's on the cusp of it.
And right then, I hate my life. I hate it so hard. Yes, I have a family that loves me. Brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces, and nephews. I live in a beautiful, luxurious home. I belong here; I’m one of them, and still… I can’t… be myself. I can’t be normal.
I’d give anything to escape my brothers’ overbearing protection and the strict control of my family. I dream of finding freedom and love on my own terms, without being passed around and forced into something I don’t want. I want independence, a life where I can make my own choices. And yes, they might tease me for studying one thing after another, but I am so tired of being treated like a fragile object and kept in this gilded cage. I want to break free from the oppression so badly it hurts.
"No, Mikhail," my mother says quietly. She and Mikhail share a look. She never contradicts him. Nobody does. "She’ll be safer in Moscow. You know she will. I have contacts there. We both do.”
I expect him to refuse her, but instead, he runs a hand through his hair. Moscow is better than a bunker.
"How long do we have?" she asks.
"An hour," Mikhail says. "He’s already on his way."
I stare, my belly churning. I close my eyes and kiss my hopes and dreams goodbye. I’m not going to school tomorrow, that’s for sure.
"Polina Romanova, did you hear me?" Mikhail snaps at me.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. "You’re not my father!" I yell at him.
My mother gasps. "Polina…"
"No," I say, holding my ground. "He doesn’t get to talk to me that way."
"This is not the time for you to pull this bullshit," Mikhail growls, his golden skin turning a faint shade of red. He’s barely holding onto his anger.