Page 75 of I (One) (War of Roses 3)

“I’m ready.” Mischa pulls back and heads for the door.

My cheeks flame as I catch Vanya staring, his gaze unreadable.

“Don’t wait up, Little Rose,” Mischa calls as the men approach the front door of the manor.

Sergei and Vanya flank him on either side while the rest take up the rear.

“Ellen?”

I turn and find Anna at the top of the stairs.

“Is everything all right?” Her wide eyes focus on the object I still have tucked behind my back. From this angle, only she can see it: a knife. It’s too small to be Mischa’s usual weapon but lethal enough, I suspect.

Facing her, I maneuver the object to keep it from sight. “Everything is fine.” I smile even as my heart hammers in my chest.

For the first time, I look down and observe the knife fully. It’s thinner than his blade and therefore easier for me to wield. That fact makes my stomach sink; he got it for me especially.

He planned for me toneedit.

Or he could be giving in to his usual brand of paranoia. Yes. I nod along with the pathetic logic as Anna gapes at me from the top of the staircase. Everything, from his history lessons to his hostility toward Sergei, was a gross overreaction. If the former leader is right and they are able to capture Robert, then the meaning of the knife could be more subtle—a mocking reminder of everything I’ve sacrificed without Robert: blood, soul, limbs…

Even so, maybe I’m not ready to be a widow after all.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Anna says as I finally ascend the stairs to her.

A ghost? Or a serpent. Sergei’s soldier’s tattoo reappears in my mind: a snake entwined with a cross. The more I think about it, the surer I am. He was the same man we saw the night we escaped from Robert.

“Ellen?”

When I meet Anna’s gaze, I can tell she’s worried. “I’ll help you put the children to bed,” I tell her, forcing a smile.

Together, we turn to the sitting room and usher a drowsy Mouse off to bed while Anna carries Eli.

At the threshold to her room, she grabs my arm. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it? I can see it in your face.”

“No,” I start to lie. Then I bite my lip and eye the blade in my grasp. “Keep an eye on him,” I warn her, nodding to the boy sleeping against her shoulder. “And take this.”

She stiffens when I press the blade against her palm, exposing it completely. “W-what is—”

“Hide it on you always,” I insist, cutting her off. “And if anyone tries to take him… Use it.”

“Who would take…” Suddenly, she swallows and then nods. “I understand.”

* * *

Idon’t sleep. I stand and pace, wringing my hands together mercilessly. Around me, the old house creaks and sways, bustling with Sergei’s men. Finally, after what must be midnight, I hear the sound of clamor coming from the foyer.

I race down the staircase, and Sergei is already at the bottom to meet me. Alarm lances through my chest as I spot the mud on his clothes. For once, ruffled hair and filthy hands ruin his usually polished façade.

But his bloodshot eyes stop me dead in my tracks, even before he says the words my brain takes ages to process.

“I’m sorry… But we failed.”

“Oh,” I croak. It’s the only thing I seem capable of saying.

“Ellen…” Frowning, Sergei takes a step forward, his hand outstretched. “Mischa and Ivan…they’re dead.”

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