“Come to collect a soul, Reaper? The Blade is mine at the moment. You’ll have to wait.”
Ivan laughed, gave her instructions to go through her movements, and walked over. “How much did you hear?”
“All of it. What do you think it is that makes her freeze?”
“Well, given she said she’s not afraid of being raped or killed, we can conclude it’s not a cock or an instrument that causes death.”
“She might have said she’s not afraid of being raped and killed, Brother. But unless she has ever been in said position, it’s easy for her to say that.”
“Agreed. But there’s no way to prepare anyone for that.” He leaned against the wall, studying me.
I dreaded what I would have to say next. “We need to prepare her for being taken, Ivan.”
“She’s not ready.” His eyes grew dark.
“Then you’re down here failing at your job. Get her ready, for fuck’s sake.” I hesitated to share the photos, needing to sit with them for a minute. I wanted him focused.
“How’d you like me to do it? The real deal? You want one of the pieces of shits we’re toying with to try to take her while we watch on? How long would it be before any of us kill him for simply touching her?”
I knew he was right, but I also knew she needed to overcome the fear in order to defend herself. “Just because she’s put into a trunk doesn’t mean she’s defenseless. We need her to know that. Let’s not forget the collar she received. It didn’t mail itself. If that means we stage an attack on her, then damn it, we do it,” I pushed, needing him to prepare her.
If one of her fears resulted from being taken, then the only way for her to overcome it was to confront it head-on.
He shook his head. “She’ll fucking hate us. You do realize that, right? Are you ready for that? Because I’m not.”
I needed to say it, though we had a specific code with one another not to bring her up. He needed reminding. “If only Vanya had known what we’re teaching Kinsley, perhaps she never would have been raped. She begged you to teach her. I’ll not have another Vanya on my conscience.”
“Fuck you, Reaper! You dare bring her up? To me? You? Get the fuck out of here, now,” he shouted, causing her to stop.
Kinsley ran over, putting herself between us. I knew pushing that button would ignite him. He’d do what needed to be done. All three of us carried the burden of Vanya’s attack. Each one of us let her down in some way. It made me sick to my stomach thinking about it.
Kinsley’s little hands pulled his face to hers. He glared at me while she spoke soothingly to him in Russian. Watching them, her voice calming him, her hands lovingly tracing his face, was intimate on a level I wasn’t prepared for.
“Please leave, Alek,” she said as he removed her hands. He turned around and tried to collect himself.
“Do it, Blade,” I commanded before leaving them.
Hours later, I went to make sure Kinsley was getting ready. I found her in the bathtub, where she was using the oils I had left for her. Her beautiful body was soaking in the water, her hair pulled up, and her graceful neck called to me. Lost in a song, she didn’t realize I was there. Her voice reverberated off the walls as she sang.
The sheer physical power in her voice seized hold of my heart, squeezing it tight within its unrelenting grip. Each note she sang was an unfiltered outpouring of pain, cutting through the very essence of my being.
It was different from the other song she’d sang before. The words tumbled from her lips, raw and real. The emotional weight of her hurt hung heavily in the air, and the lines etched on her face spoke of anguish as tears cascaded down her cheeks.
She continued singing, and my heart broke into pieces, the photographs taking on a whole new meaning as the lyrics resonated inside my head. I was held captive, and I wanted her to stop, afraid of how she made me feel.
It was as if she had somehow transported me to a scene, and I was on the edge of a precipice. She was going to take me over any second. My toes hung over the cliff, her pain pushing me like a hand on my back.
My heart ached like it was being ripped from my chest. Was this how Vanya felt? The guilt I still carried ran so deep, it filled me with sickness. Visions of Mischa and Vanya merged, interwoven in picture form behind my eyes.
Kinsley had unknowingly peeled back another secret and exposed it—no, more like confirmed it. Someone had hurt my girl. The emotionality of the lyrics was too real.
Then suddenly, she stopped singing as her own emotions overcame her. She sank down into the water and stayed for what seemed like forever. My mind raced, and I called her name several times before finally pulling her from the water. She sputtered, gasping for air, her eyes glued to mine.
“Goddamn it, what the hell?” I grabbed a towel and yanked her from the tub, wrapping her in it. She laid her head on my chest, heaving.
“Voin. Who hurt you?”
Clinging to me, she whispered, “That’s Ivan’s nickname for me. You can’t use it.”
