The word is not reassurance. It’s a threat.
I close my eyes for one second. “What did you do?” I ask.
“Nothing yet.”
“Dmitri.”
He exhales, almost annoyed. “You left me no choice.”
I almost laugh. The words are so familiar. Men like him always begin there. You made me. You forced this. You left me no choice.
“I left you at the altar because you were with Katya.”
“And then you married him.”
“Yes.” The word comes out before fear can stop it. “Yes, I did.”
Silence.
Then his voice lowers. “Do you think that makes you safe?”
My hand moves to my stomach without thinking.
The movement is small. Private.
Still, it terrifies me.
I drop my hand quickly, as if he can see through the phone.
“You need to listen carefully,” Dmitri says.
“No. You need to listen. If Yaromir finds out you have my father, he will kill you.”
“You think I don’t know that?” His voice cracks slightly on the last word.
Not fear. Rage. Humiliation. The same thing I saw in his face at the auction when Yaromir put the emeralds around my neck.
“I’m tired of everyone speaking like he already owns this city,” Dmitri says. “Like he owns you. Like I’m the fool in every story.”
“You made yourself the fool.”
He goes quiet. Too quiet.
My pulse jumps.
Then he says, “Careful, Anya.” The coldness in his voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“There she is,” Dmitri murmurs. “My reasonable girl.”
“I was never your girl.”
“Weren’t you?”
My throat tightens. “No.”
“Funny. You wore my ring like you were.”