The heavy oak door to my bedroom creaked as I closed it behind me, muffling the sounds of Dimitri's estate. The air inside was still, the walls cold and unwelcoming despite their polished luxury. I leaned against the door, trying to steady my breathing. My chest felt tight, my ribs aching faintly from where Dimitri had grabbed me the day before.
I lowered myself onto the bed, running my fingers over my bruised arm. It wasn't the first time. Dimitri had always been careful to hurt me in places that could be hidden—my arms, my side, sometimes even the back of my neck if I said the wrong thing.
And I always seemed to say the wrong thing.
The memory of his face twisted in anger was still fresh in my mind. "You don't belong in my business, Zahra," he'd said, his grip on my arm tightening until I whimpered. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of it."
But staying out of it wasn't an option. Not anymore. Not after what I'd discovered.
