Chapter 11 Anya
I ran to my room. I could barely see through my tears. I could barely breathe through the sobs that shook my whole body. The guards watched me as they passed.
I slammed my door and locked it. I collapsed on my small bed and I cried. I cried until there was nothing left.
He had made me strip naked. He had looked at me like I was meat. He had kissed me roughly. And had positioned himself between my legs.
But then he stopped.
You disgust me, he had said. Your fear. Your weakness. Your pathetic tears.
The words hurt worse than anything else. Worse than being naked. Worse than being touched. Worse than anything the Petrovs had ever done.
Because somewhere in my broken heart, I had started to hope. I started to think maybe Nikolai was different. Maybe he was not the monster everyone said he was.
But I was wrong. He was exactly what I should have feared.
I pulled off the nightgown and put on my regular clothes. A simple dress that covered everything. I wanted to hide. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to stop existing.
I heard a soft knock on my door.
And I froze. Was it him? Had he changed his mind? Had he come to finish what he started?
"Anya?" It was a woman's voice. Vera. The kind servant. "Are you okay? I heard you crying."
I opened the door slowly. Vera stood there with a tray of food. Bread, cheese and water.
"The cook said you did not eat all day," Vera said gently. "I brought you something."
I took the tray with shaking hands. "Thank you." I whispered. My voice cracked from much crying.
Vera looked at my face. At my red eyes. At my cut cheek. At how I was shaking. "Did he hurt you?"
"No," I whispered. "Not in the way you think."
"But he hurt you."
"Yes." I nodded.
Vera sighed. She was old. Maybe sixty and she had kind eyes. "The Pakhan is a complicated man. He was raised by a monster. He does not know how to be anything else."
"That is not an excuse." I started sobbing again.
"No. It is not. But it is an explanation." Vera touched my shoulder gently. "Eat and rest. Tomorrow will be better."
She left. And I sat on my bed with the tray and ate mechanically. The food tasted like nothing. But I forced myself to eat because I needed strength. I needed to survive.
After I finished, I lay down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. Sleep would not come. My mind kept replaying everything. His cold voice. His rough kiss. How he had positioned himself between my legs.
And then how he had stopped. How he had turned away. How his voice had sounded strange when he told me to leave.
Almost like he was in pain.
No. I was imagining things. Seeing softness where there was none. Hoping for humanity in a monster.
I needed to stop. I needed to accept reality. Nikolai Markov would never care about me. I was just a property. A tool. Something to be used and discarded.
That was all I would ever be.
Hours passed. I heard footsteps in the hallways. Doors opening and closing. The estate was settling for the night.
I tried to sleep but could not. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. I felt his hands on me. And heard his cruel words.
You disgust me.
Maybe he was right. Maybe I was disgusting. Too weak. Too frightened. And too pathetic.
Maybe that was why my father had died. Because I was not strong enough to save him. Not smart enough to help him. Not brave enough to fight back.
Maybe everything was my fault.
The thoughts spiraled darker and darker. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. Making myself as small as possible.
I wished I could disappear completely.
I heard a sudden loud crash from somewhere in the estate. Then shouting. Men's voices raised in anger.
I sat up quickly. What was happening?
The shouting increased.
Then everywhere became suddenly quiet again. It was too quiet.
I waited and listened. But heard nothing more.
Should I leave my room? Should I see what was happening? Or should I stay here and hide like I always did?
Before I could decide, there was a sharp knock on my door. It wasn't gentle like Vera's. It was hard and impatient.
"Open up," a man's voice ordered. And it wasn't Nikolai's.
I moved to the door slowly. "Who is it?"
"Mikhail. Open the door. Now."
Mikhail. That was Nikolai's second in command.
I unlocked the door and opened it. Mikhail stood there with two guards behind him. His face was hard and serious.
"Come with me," he said.
"Why? What happened?" I had to ask because I was scared of stepping out of my room.
"The Pakhan wants you. Now." He said coldly.
My stomach dropped.
Had Nikolai changed his mind? Had he decided to finish what he started? Was he going to hurt me after all?
"Please," I whispered. "I cannot go back there. Not tonight. Please."
Mikhail's face was expressionless. But his voice softened. "He is not going to hurt you. But you need to come. There is a situation."
I asked no further question. I just followed.
I followed Mikhail through the corridors. The guards walked behind us. We passed other servants who were peering out of their rooms with frightened faces. Something big must have happened.
We reached Nikolai's study. Mikhail knocked once and pushed the door open.
Nikolai stood by his desk. He had changed clothes. He was wearing all black. A tactical clothing like he was preparing for war.
When he saw me, his expression darkened.
"Leave us," he ordered Mikhail and the guards.
They left. The door closed. I stood there, unsure what to do.
"Sit," Nikolai said, gesturing to a chair.
I sat. My hands were shaking. I clasped them together in my lap.
Nikolai poured vodka into two glasses. He drank one in a single swallow. Then he pushed the other glass towards me.
"Drink," he ordered.
"I do not drink alcohol."
"Tonight you will. You will need it." He said coldly.