Page 68 of Shadows of the Past
She looks up, surprise flickering in her eyes, and offers a half smile. "You could say that. I lost a nail, and it’s disgusting to look at," she mumbles, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.
Something tightens in my chest. Zoya is only eighteen. At her age, girls should be out with friends, dating, starting their adult lives. Instead, she’s trapped within these walls, interacting with just a handful of people.
She’s not the only one.
"Can I help you with anything?"
She shakes her head, and I turn to rummage through the fridge for sandwich fixings.
"Did Max eat anything?" she asks suddenly, and I freeze for a moment.
It shouldn’t bother me that she cares about him more than Akim. But it does. Before I can respond, she continues, "I could make him some pudding like he likes, especially after what he went through today. I heard he saved us all from those intruders."
Her enthusiasm makes me frown.
"It’s fine, Zoya. I’ll just give him a sandwich. We don’t have time to wait for food."
A flicker of disappointment crosses her face, and I feel like banging my head against the wall.She’s just trying to help, Julia.
"But you can make it for tomorrow, okay?" I say gently.
She nods and returns to chopping vegetables.
When I reach my room, my eyes narrow at the red dress hanging on the bathroom door. It doesn’t belong to me. It’s too elegant, too delicate, and absolutely nothing like my cargo pants, which have enough pockets for as many knives as I want.
"What did that fabric ever do to you?" Maksim teases from behind me.
I turn to him and cross my arms over my chest. "Isn’t it obvious? This dress isn’t for me… It’s too much."
For a few seconds, he studies my face as if trying to gauge whether I’m serious or just joking. His hands find my cheeks as he leans in closer.
"No dress, no piece of fabric is worthy of touching your skin. No pair of shoes deserves your feet. You’re the one who’s too much for them."
There’s such reverence in his voice, such adoration, that it makes my emotions swell at his words.
We still haven’t talked about Vera yet; I’m giving him time to find his confidence to share what happened. But with every passing minute, I feel him retreating deeper into his mind and soul, like he’s building walls so I can’t reach him.
As if reading my thoughts, he says softly, "We’ll talk when we get back."
I nod and pull the dress over my head before tucking a knife into each thigh holster, secured by garters.
The neckline plunges nearly to my navel, and for a moment I linger in front of the mirror. I don’t know how to do much more than this, but I look good—like I belong in this world—and just the thought twists my stomach into knots.
"How did Ivan agree to let me come?" I ask Maksim since this is the first time I've been allowed at something like this.
"After the attack, he had a heart episode," Maksim explains casually. "I think he stopped caring whether you came or not. You’ve been here two years; he knows you’re not going anywhere."
My nightmares flood back, every moment when either he or Aleksandr would swoop in to drag me away from Max, and waves of disbelief crash over me because I never expected they’d let me stay here under these circumstances.
"What is it?" Maksim's voice breaks through my thoughts with concern.
"I’ve thought so many times about when they’d come for me," I admit softly.
"Not while I'm breathing," he replies firmly. "You’re mine, Julia—whether you like it or not. The moment you returned to this house after I offered you a way out…you bound yourself to me for life."
His words are so serious that laughter bubbles up unexpectedly inside me because all I've ever wanted was to be his.
"Yes, sir!"
