Page 89 of Mission Shift

I nodded. “Especially when it’s a woman—because we both know how often men underestimate the power of women.”

She turned toward the door, brushing nonexistent dust from the front of her apron. “I’ll bring you something more interesting to read later.”

A moment later, there was a clacking of boots against the wooden floor. I’d not even registered the noise of the door being unlocked. I looked up at the man who had just entered—the prikazchik.

Svetlana jumped back; he’d startled her too.

He was a sour-looking old man, his thin face etched with deep lines of disapproval, and his beady eyes scanned the room like a predator searching for weakness. He carried himself with the authority of someone who had ruled this house longer than I had been alive—a man who had stood beside my father as his loyal hound.

Svetlana turned her attention to him, her face carefully blank.

I sat up straighter, pushing the tray of food aside. I knew why he was here.

He was here toinspect mefor Malinov.

He stopped at the foot of my bed, crossing his arms behind his back. “On your feet.”

I hesitated for half a second.

“Now.”

Clenching my jaw, I pulled the covers back, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and stood.

He raked his gaze over me with the cold detachment of a man assessing cattle at a market.

“Strip.”

Svetlana didn’t flinch, didn’t move to interfere—though her hands curled into fists at her sides.

My blood burned with rage, but I didn’t react. Not outwardly.

I had endured far worse humiliation than this.

Slowly, I pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it onto the bed. The bruises across my ribs, my stomach, and my back were ugly reminders of my father’s rage and the torture I had barely survived. The prikazchik probably took some sadistic satisfaction in seeing them.

He clicked his tongue. “You’re too thin and covered from head to toe in ugly marks.”

He walked a slow circle around me, his calculating leer sweeping over my body like I wasn’t even human.

“She must look perfect for Mr. Malinov,” he muttered to Svetlana. “You have ten days to fatten her up and fix her.”

Svetlana nodded stiffly. “I will make it happen.”

Stepping closer to me, he lifted a bony hand and prodded one of the deeper bruises on my side. I didn’t so much as flinch, though it took everything in me not to snap his wrist.

He huffed in approval.

“Good. She still knows how to behave.” He turned to Svetlana. “See that she eats. Bathe her in oils. Cover the marks if they don’t fade. Mr. Malinov doesn’t want a battered woman on his arm.”

A sneer twisted his lips as he shook his head and muttered, “What a shame, such beauty wasted on one with such a temper.”

Then, without another word, he turned and walked out.

The moment the door shut behind him, I grabbed my shirt and yanked it back over my head.

Svetlana exhaled a pent-up breath, the tension draining from her.

“Try to eat,” she murmured.

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