There’s shouting, running, the sound of glass breaking somewhere in the distance.
My mother stands, her expression shifting from warmth to terror. She grabs my hand and pulls me toward a door. I glance over my shoulder, watching as the party breaks into chaos.
Mama keeps pulling me, and we weave through the crowd. Aggressive shouting fills the air, with men barking orders. There’s a gunshot. Screaming, cries of pain.
The music stops.
What’s happening?
The pressure vanishes from my hand. I turn to see that no one is holding it any longer.
Mama’s gone.
Panic grips me. Party guests are fleeing, bumping into me as they race to the exits. There’s more shouting, more chaos, more screaming. I worry that I’ll be trampled under the crowd.
But then I spot a figure. It emerges from the darkness of the doorway and comes toward me. The crowd parts around it.
“Teodora, come.” His voice is low and resonant. I can feel it in my bones.
As the man moves closer, I notice his green eyes.
He reaches for me.
I reach for him.
And then I wake up gasping.
The ceiling of my room blurs into focus. I can make out the gray morning light, the dent in the pillow beside me where Gabriel slept. But he’s no longer there.
I lie still, my heart pounding, and press my hand over my mouth.
My mother. I saw my mother in my dream.
I know it was a dream, but it felt so real, like it was more of a memory bubbling to the surface. Or maybe it was something my mind cobbled together from everything I’ve recently learned about my life.
Still, the feeling of it, the dream image of my mother, lingers.
You are loved. You are wanted. You are mine.
I’ve never felt that—not from Liza, not from anyone. Kolya Sokolov took that from me.
I’m still lying there, raw and shaking, when I hear voices downstairs. They are loud and they are escalating.
One of them is Liza’s.
I throw off the covers and get dressed.
CHAPTER 23
THEA
Ifind them in the kitchen.
Gabriel stands against the counter, his arms folded across his broad chest. His expression is hard, cold. Liza stands across from him, dressed in her maid’s outfit, an agitated expression on her face.
She looks like she hasn’t slept.
“You can’t do this,” she says. “You’re going to get her killed.”