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Chapter Twenty-Three:

Vasilisa’s Point of View:

Burning rubber. My condo smelled like fucking burning rubber. What was so hard about not being disrespectful? With my eyes still closed, I knew what to expect as soon as I opened them. Trash. Alcohol containers. Who knew where my small black cat Ember was, most likely hiding from the craziness under my bed. Which is where I should be, but I have a kink in my neck from sleeping on the couch instead.

Damn. I tried to be silent about my return to Siberia, but Olya already had a surprise celebration waiting outside my door when my dear father dropped me off. He’d looked at them and smiled, saying I was lucky to have such welcoming warm people to call friends. I almost begged to spend the night at his house, but he’s allergic to cats so I couldn’t bring Ember. I didn’t say anything back, but gave him a tight hug and left the vehicle.

He was wrong about something, they aren&rsqu

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