Page 43 of The Darkness is Calling

“Your loss,” she sings in a cheerful voice.

Then she leans toward me across the small table where we are sitting in the area arranged as an office.

“What an unpleasant audience. Are they all the same in that house?”

I chuckle.

“More or less. I like that everyone minds their own business.”

“And they had better do that very well. If anything happens to you, I’ll make sure they pay with their blood.”

I’m sure she is capable of it.

“This little kitten scratches badly,” I purr at her, smiling slyly.

“Maybe my father doesn’t have some grand title in Bratva, but I’m sure he would give me a couple of Kalashnikovs to do the job.”

She speaks with modesty about her family, even though her father is an important man inl Bratva, the right hand of a very powerful Pakhan in Russia.

“That won’t be necessary,” I tell her, trying to calm her. “We’re not talking about amateurs. They’re Angely Smerti. The leaders of the Tyomnye Ptitsy.”

She rolls her eyes, visibly unimpressed by my pompous list, which I deliver with a touch of sarcasm.

“Right, right. The Angels of Death and their famous Birds of Darkness. Everyone trembles with fear when they hear they’re nearby.” She sighs. “But they’re treating you well, aren’t they?” she asks, this time more worried.

“They’re polite. Don’t imagine I foresee some friendship that will last after I leave that place, but until then, I hope things will be quiet.”

I hide the small hesitation that tries to appear when I remember where I will sleep tonight.

To be honest, I do not think I want to remember that disturbing detail right now either.

“You mean until the wedding.”

My blood runs cold.

“Yes. The wedding.”

She senses the coldness that spills into my voice.

“How are the preparations going?”

“I’ve settled everything necessary by email with the wedding planner. I have one more dress fitting next week, and that’s it. She’s handling the rest.”

“You’re overwhelming me with your enthusiasm,” she mutters dryly.

“It’s just a confusing period after my father’s death, that’s all.”

“After your father’s murder, you mean.”

I lean back against the white armchair across from her and sigh sadly, staring into my cup of tea.

“When I call it that, anger immediately takes over. It hurts and scratches deep at the same time. They still haven’t found out who killed him, and the more time passes, the more I think that every trace will disappear and they won’t find the person responsible. And on top of all that, everyone expects me to be in the mood for wedding preparations right now.”

My voice trembles toward the end, and that is when I realize tears have dampened my eyes, my voice rising, fueled by frustration.

“Okay. I understand there are certain family obligations making you feel responsible for continuing with this. But why don’t you talk to Oliver about postponing the wedding until you feel more settled? Assuming you’ll ever be ready to take that step with him...”

I look at her for a moment without saying anything or even breathing.