The Luna on a Chain
“Because next time my hands close around her throat, I won’t hesitate for a second.”
He turned away, then gently wrapped an arm around my shoulders and led me off.
Our cheerful company moved in the opposite direction from Gromov.
Stopping at the entrance to a bridal salon, Egor turned toward me, clearly about to say something — but Margarita suddenly appeared at his side and seized his arm.
“Egor,” she said with a bright smile, “we have so much to discuss about tomorrow. Come along.”
“I can’t leave Maura while that bastard is nearby,” he replied, barely containing himself.