her. Konstantin had done that. It left her with a complex that she wasn’t exactly ready to deal with, not that she knew the first place to begin with it all.
All at once, Konstantin turned, and his gaze leveled on her. That was another thing about her brother. His stare was always penetrating—yeah, that was the best way to describe it, she supposed. Penetrating.
A person didn’t need to say a thing when Konstantin was around. He didn’t need words and explanations to know what someone was thinking or feeling. It was like he just stared at you and he knew it all, anyway.
Viktoria was not an exception to that rule.
“Your trip was good?” her brother asked.
Viktoria came to a stop a couple of feet away from him. It allowed her enough distance that he wouldn’t assume she wanted to greet him with something like a hug. “Good enough.”
Konstantin nodded. “And Vadim?”
“You don’t care.”
Her brother arched a brow. “Vik—”
“You sent him away. You wanted him to go and you took over his place here. You don’t have to pretend that you care about how he’s living in Russia, brat.”
Konstantin’s jaw tightened before he relaxed and offered her a smile. “I wasn’t asking for him, actually. More for you, hmm?”
Well …
“He’s making do,” she replied.
That was about as much as she wanted to give her brother, regarding their father. She had no doubt that Konstantin had a whole handful of people to watch Vadim. Likely the same people who reported back to him on their father’s behavior and actions while he lived out the rest of his life in exile, away from his family. He didn’t need her filling him in on the details.
“Was the trip … worth it, then?” Konstantin asked.
Viktoria sighed. “If you’re asking if it helped me with anything, then the answer is no.”
“I figured.”
“Where is Kolya?”
“Busy with Maya. You know how he is about that wife of his. She comes first.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Konstantin smirked. “No, I don’t. You simply hear it that way, sestra.”
“You can’t tell me what I hear. Unless, of course, my ears have suddenly become attached to your head. Let me know when that happened.”
She didn’t even try to tamper the coldness in her tone. She didn’t particularly have a reason to be icy to her brother, but this was her life, now. It was easier to keep people at a distance, and let them know their place, than it was for her to keep fighting them when they tried to get too close. Better to make that line in the sand clear before they ever got started.
Konstantin nodded. “I take it you don’t want to tell me the things you discussed with Vadim, then?”
“Nyet.”
“A hard no, huh?”
Viktoria smiled thinly. “Take it how you may.”
“You seem like you’re feeling …”
“What?”
“Extra nasty.”
Viktoria stared at the people passing them by instead of her brother. It was just easier. She didn’t need him to see the war in her gaze—a battle of emotions that was ever-present, and always constant in her heart and mind.
Life was not nice to her.
Not lately.
“We have an upcoming party,” Konstantin said when Viktoria kept quiet. This was typical for them. He’d try to engage her, and she just stayed silent until he gave up. “A baby shower for Maya and Kolya. I expect you to be there, be pleasant, and bring a proper gift.”
“Fine.”
“Oh, and since I know how Vadim always puts you in a headspace, perhaps you should go see your therapist while you’re back in the city, yes?”
Her jaw ached from how hard she was clenching her teeth.
He wasn’t wrong, though.
It wasn’t just Vadim and her brothers who left her with a complex whenever she was in her father’s presence. It was far more than just that. It was like every conversation with Vadim thrust her right back to a time when he had failed her the very most.
That made her feel angry.
Guilty.
So ashamed.
Dirty.
She didn’t want to blame him for what had happened to her, but she still did. She loved him, and she hated him.
“I think I will visit her, actually,” Viktoria said.
Konstantin smiled briefly as she looked back at him. “Good.”
“But not because you told me to.”
“Of course not.”
2.
THERE WAS nothing comforting about the smell of musty cement. The putrid mixture of dampness having seeped and collected for far too long inside the walls of the chambers of the Compound was ever-present. It lingered on everything, too.
Dying bodies.
Clothes.
Skin.
It didn’t matter which chamber Pavel entered