Page 143 of The Harbinger
“Take her upstairs.”
Katya moved across the foyer and gathered me around the waist, my focus never leaving the violent scene as she ushered me up the stairs.
Ivan hadn’t moved from his position, his head bowed before him, Sacha’s hand still on his head.
Why didn’t he fight him? Why sit there and be humiliated in front of all these people? Was this part of their belief, or something else?
“Once again, Mia, you’ve managed to find yourself in trouble. I’m beginning to think you enjoy the chaos that comes from it,” Katya said as we disappeared into my room.
“Sacha said something similar.”
“He’s typically correct in these things.”
“What will happen to Ivan?”
“Don’t worry about him. We should take care of your arm.”
I swiped her hand away as she reached for me and shook my head.
“I’ll wait for Sacha.”
Katya stepped away from me with her hands raised in surrender. “I wouldn’t leave this room if I were you.”
Her warning sickened me. Even though Ivan and I didn’t get along, I wouldn’t wish him any harm on my behalf. After all, he seemed to be the only one who told me my true purpose in this household.
“I need to ask you a question, but you must be completely honest with me.” I took a seat in the reading nook.
“You know you can ask me anything.” She stood at the door, her hand waiting to turn the knob.
“Did you know Sacha planned to kill me on the altar?”
“Of course, Mia.” She opened the door, and a loud bellow boomed from downstairs. “We all have our place in this world.”
My stomach plummeted as she spun on her heel and walked out of my room, closing my door behind her. My fists clenched at my sides, my support dwindling the longer I stayed.
I’d taken a stab in the dark, fishing for the truth to Ivan’s cruel words, and found them with equal callousness.
Katya, although compassionate at times, wasn’t my friend. She’d twisted the knife and made sure to bleed me out.
Chapter 34
Mia
Theclockonthewall ticked away as I waited for Sacha, but time stood still. The minutes turned to hours, yet I hadn’t moved from my chair, my muscles stiff and aching.
I stared at the door and waited, the sun disappearing beyond the trees, casting wavering shadows along the fireplace, my stomach growling with hunger.
I obeyed—did exactly what I’d been told—to stay in my room, but a secondary hunger burned at the back of my tongue as the boredom and nerves gnawed at me.
With jittery knees and my resolve diminished, I shuffled into the toilet room and fished out the baggy floating on the top of the water in the tank. It was light in my hand, but the relief it would bring me couldn’t be measured.
I took it to the vanity with quick strides, dumping the contents onto it and cutting it into three thick lines.
My mouth watered as though I were about to bite into a big fat juicy steak, my hands trembling as I scraped the crystals into perfection.
Mom’s going to be pissed if she catches you.
I held the rolled-up cardboard tube in my hand, my nerves causing me to hesitate. I leaned back in my seat and let my trembling fingers fall into my lap.