Page 79 of Unhinged

Is this where he puts me in stocks or lines me up in front of a firing squad?

One of Moscow’s most feared. Tenacious. Ruthless.

His reputation precedes him—a hardened criminal who shows no mercy.

I let her go as if she’s hot to the touch and force myself to meet his gaze without flinching despite the cold, merciless ice in his eyes.

Should I say… I’m sorry?

He is the only one here I have a history with. And none of it is good.

“Anissa,” he greets, his voice even, unreadable. “I have to say, I’m surprised.”

“Life is full of surprises,” I answer, unsure of what, exactly, he’s surprised about.

Why did I say that?

“I didn’t expect you’d look like my wife’s double in an alternate universe.” Someone barks out a cough, but no one talks as Rafail’s gaze narrows on me, assessing. Cold. Unforgiving.

And then Matvei is beside me, between me and Rafail.

He’s bigger than Rafail. And though he is outranked, there’s a steadiness to his presence that makes it easier to breathe. Wordlessly, he presses his hand to the small of my back. “Remember your promise to me, cousin,” he says in a low, quiet voice.

Not for the first time, I’m grateful he’s so possessive.

Rafail’s eyes narrow just slightly. There’s a tick in his jaw.

Finally, after a long pause, he nods. “I never go back on my promises.”

They don’t need to say it out loud.He’s promised Matvei that I’m his.

Matvei told me as much.

And by giving me to Matvei, I assume any retribution Rafail would seek is now void, but… it’s an assumption, and those are dangerous.

“Well, well, well,” an older, raspy voice says behind me. “We have mirror images here. In all my years, son…”

I turn. Matvei shadows me like he’s my bodyguard. I guess here… heis. His hand rests possessively on the small of my back.

The elderly man who spoke is hunched over, one gnarled hand gripping the curved end of a cane. His clothes are old and faded but neatly pressed, and there’s a twinkle in his sharp eyes.

“I was good friends with twins back in the day,” he continues, nodding sagely. “But they knew each other. This? This is the kind of thing they do on reality television, don’t they?”

He studies me, then Polina, before his gaze flickers back to me.

“Do you know what we say in Russia about twins in the family?” He smiles. “Two pairs of eyes, one soul.”

I blink. My throat is tight. Polina gives me a soft smile that almost negates the look of hatred from her husband.

The old man extends his hand. “They all just call me Grandfather,” he says. “Welcome, welcome.”

Then, his eyes harden as he waves his cane at Rafail and winks at me.

“I’ll make sure my grandson behaves himself.”

Polina clutches Rafail’s arm. “So will I.”

I nod to Grandfather. “Something tells me that cane isn’t just a prop.”

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