Page 71 of The Tsar's Obsession
A few pictures fell out. They were a little blurry and taken with an old digital camera, but they were clear enough to see. Clear enough to know. Clear enough for me to recognize Kirill right away. One, two, three—seven. There was a different woman with him in each one of the photos, and every single one was of him hugging, laughing, dancing, and kissing these women.
He was young, thinner, and drunk. One picture caught my eye where he was laughing with a young blonde girl, his arm slung around her shoulder as he pressed her into his chest. The girldidn’t look a day over eighteen, and he looked just like that young boy I met all those years ago.
My heart racing, I ripped open the envelope and snatched the white piece of paper, devouring the contents.
Mia, baby,
Did you know that ‘mia’ means mine in Spanish? Fitting, isn’t it? But have you ever stopped to think about who you really belong to?
Did he tell you everything? Did The Tsar explain what kingdom he’s dragged you into? A good, responsible girl like you should always do her research. Photos attached.
You might want to ask him about these girls. Ask him if he kept them around, or if he knows where their bodies are buried. Spoiler: he does. Because he’s the one who put them there.
You think The Tsar has only ever had eyes for you? Svet moy, look closer. Look into those big, pretty eyes and see that…you’re just his type, nothing more.
Where are all these good girls now, Mia? Did he tell you everything? Did he tell you how he stole their innocence? Did he tell you how they bled when they walked home? Did he tell you how each one was just a toy? Just something to be played with, until he broke them?
Your Tsar liked to rape, murder, and abuse young girls that all looked like you. Helookedfor young girls just like you. Beautiful, tall, sweet, innocent. And they all had long, gorgeous hair. Just like you.
Don’t you see the resemblance? Marina, Olga, Svetlana, Maria. Where are all these women now?
In a quiet whirlpool, devils roam. Those green eyes, Mia. Are they not a whirlpool that sucked you in?
It’s always the good girls who fall for him. He has that look, doesn’t he? The reluctant sinner. The man who could have been good if only life had dealt him a different hand. The one who prays, who reads, who stays up late just for you.
But how can he be good,Mia, if he built his empire on bones? On blood and bodies. On death.
But even if you’ve decided to look past all that. Even if you decided that love conquers all…I wanted you to know that you’re sleeping with a rapist.
You’re sleeping beside a man who fantasized and role-played raping and killing you.
So it’s your call, sunshine. Where would you like to end up? A simple lost memory, six feet underground? Because there’s one place you won’t be—beside him, wearing a crown.
He rules alone.
My body was crouched over my desk, frozen, and all of me was in deep disbelief. Feeling nothing and everything at once, I ripped the photos off the table and carefully looked over each one again.
It was definitely Kirill. Young, his hair shaved, dark circles under his eyes, or his pupils blown wide—it was him. Was this before or after I met him? His hands were on these women’s hips, his arms around them, his lips…on their lips.
This must’ve been a mistake! Not my Kirill. Notmyman. But it was him in the photos. There was no denying it.
Wait, wait, wait.Wait.My logical brain was frantically trying to come online as my heart was threatening to burst out of me. What was this even? Who sent this?
Your Tsar liked to rape, murder, and abuse young girls that all looked like you. Helookedfor young girls just like you. Beautiful, tall, sweet, innocent. And they all had long, gorgeous hair. Just like you.
These women really did look like me. Long, dark blonde hair—they were all the sametypeas me. My thoughts were wholly arrested as I tried to make sense of this knowledge that fell into my lap out of nowhere. I had no words, no thoughts, just a nonstop hot buzzing everywhere in my body.
Rape. Murder. Abuse. Good girls. Just like you. The Tsar.
Did he tell you everything?
The thud of my own pumping blood deafenedme. My eyes found the letter, and I read it again, and again, andagain. Whoever wrote this mentioned the word ‘I’ only one time; everything else was impersonal. What did they even want? Just to spew dirt on him?
Doubt ballooned inside me. I slumped back in my chair and finally let out a shaky breath, and with it, my tears.Fuck.
Did he tell you everything?Replayed in my head on a loop.
There was no real reason to believe any of these words. But besides all the accusations, there was one very valid point, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it: howcouldKirill be good if he did what he did?
