Page 18 of The Darkness is Calling

Normally, women raised in our families are quiet and timid.

Not her.

She is entirely different, having inherited her father’s courage, which she was not raised to hide, but to set free.

“We have a place in the Thames where we dispose them,” I confess without blinking. “We tried keeping a body in the house for a few days when we were younger, but we realized it started smelling bad rather quickly, no matter how many chemicals we used. We don’t repeat that mistake anymore.”

She is not completely shocked, but I can see she is surprised by my honesty, which she probably assumes is a lie.

It isn’t.

And I know no one would believe me, which is exactly why I can be so relaxed when I detail things like this.

“The bedrooms and the gym are upstairs,” I continue with the same indifference. “Downstairs are the kitchen, the living room, and the relaxation room, where your piano was delivered this morning. Polina handles the food. If you want anything specific, tell her. She is an excellent cook, especially when it comes to traditional Russian food. If you have any more questions, you can find me in my office.”

“You said I’m not allowed there.”

Calm, Voron...

“You are allowed if you knock and granted access.”

“Lovely presentation,” she says, looking around. “Thank you for the hospitality, and I hope we disturb one another as little as possible during this time.”

She offers a small smile, but it is only polite, with nothing sincere in it.

Then Dima takes her two large suitcases and leads her up the wide staircase toward the bedroom directly across from mine.

The distance between me and my prey quiets my dark impulses with every step she takes. By the time she disappears from my line of sight, I am already turning back toward my office, where I feel the prickling ease and my heartbeat calm.

The door barely has time to close before Yar and Sasha are behind me.

“Fuck me. That went well!” Sasha exclaims cheerfully, dropping into an armchair with his legs dangling over the velvet armrest.

Meanwhile, I go to the bar to pour myself another glass of vodka.

“It was a disaster,” Yar declares gruffly.

“She has a lot of nerve,” I say, feeling my older brother beside me as he reaches for the same bottle.

“She does. She is the daughter of a great Vor camouflaged as a delicate princess.”

“Maybe she really is delicate,” Sasha says, playing with his phone.

“You don’t know anything nothing about people?” Yar scolds him. “She is stubborn, and she will be very difficult to watch because she is going to do exactly what she wants. She is spoiled, and she doesn’t realize the shit she is in or the shit she dragged us into by coming here.”

“Or maybe she is tired of everyone telling her what to do,” my younger brother says.

This time, his smile has disappeared, replaced by a seriousness I rarely see in him.

“She is a person who just wants her freedom, but there is nothing wrong with that. Especially since she seems to be a woman who knows very well what she wants and isn’t afraid of anyone or anything.”

Then he shifts his gaze to me and continues.

“Not even a Pakhan.”

Yar sighs, but he knows our younger brother may be right.

One more reason to never underestimate him.