58

MILA

RAIN DRIPPED DOWN THE CAR window, blurring my view of remote Russia as Albert drove us to our destination. Snow capped the pine trees, outlined the horizon, and covered the ground.

The winter wonderland melted and turned to mud in front of my eyes.

My mind returned to an hour before, when Ronan slipped my arms into a mysterious yellow faux fur coat. I hadn’t said a word as he zipped it up before sliding my feet into a new pair of ankle boots. I hadn’t realized how dirty and worn my others were until then. He rose to his full height, pulled my hair out frombeneath my coat, and said, “Poydem.” Let’s go.

Outside, I turned to give the house one last look and saw the menacing stone fortress in a different light. It was where Yulia’s eccentricity dwelled. Where Polina’s shouts and home-cooked meals could be found. Where rumpled black sheets lay undisturbed. Where doors, mirrors, and hearts were broken. And where sparks were made . . .

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