“He told me you were in grave danger. That the Bolsheviks had found us and were lying in wait for you as you chased after Wynn. Little did I know it was he who was the Bolshevik.”
“Do not call me one of them again!” The gun shook in Sergey’s hand.
Mama bawled into her handkerchief before looking back to Svetlana. “I thought we were waiting in the carriage to whisk you safely back to Scotland.”
“Where is Marina?” Svetlana demanded. “And how did you get to Thornhill? Wynn banished you.”
“Your sister was in the village with that peasant woman you keep on a leash. I did not have time to wait for her to return, so you two will have to suffice. As far as that so-called husband of yours, he may be lord of the manor, but I’m cunning enough to slip past any arrogant roadblocks he set up. Particularly that watchdog butler.”
Mama clutched at Svetlana’s sleeve. Great fat tears rolled off her cheeks and plopped onto the material. “He told me Bolsheviks were watching the house and we had to slip off quietly. I didn’t know, Svetka. I swear I didn’t. I never would have gone with him if I’d known.”
“It’s all right, Mama. He might have tied you up and carried you out if he’d been forced to. Much easier to have a willing yet clueless victim.” Svetlana leveled a cold stare at him. “Why? What have we done for you to turn on us, your dearest friends? Why go through the lies of trying to reunite with us in Paris?”
He shifted restlessly on the seat, squeezing the gun’s handle again and again. The white of his knuckles pulsed like a heartbeat. “Because I
If he hoped to kindle good memories within her, he’d failed. “Sheremetev wants revenge for when I would no longer dance for him. He wants to murder me, Sergey, and all you care to do is spin compliments. How did you become tangled in his web?”
“He sold me to the Bolsheviks because of my connection to you. The Bolsheviks wanted to use my connection to seize you.”
“So you have become the worker for their dirty deeds. But why? If we are indeed such friends, how could you turn on us?”
The carriage picked up speed as the scent of brine and seaweed dampened the air. They must be near the River Clyde that flowed through the city center. A good ten blocks from Glasgow’s Medical Hall. And Wynn.
“Because if I do not bring you back to Russia they will kill my sister and mother.” A knot bobbed in his throat. “They have already killed my father. I cannot allow the rest of my family to die. I am sorry, Svetka.”
“Do not call me that. You do not have the right anymore. A true friend would never make a deal with the devil at the expense of those he claims to care for.”
The panic of desperation cried in his eyes. “I tried to find other ways to save you! To run away together. To bribe Sheremetev to save my family and get them to Paris. Handing you over was never what I wanted.”
Rage hissed in Svetlana’s blood. Violent and hot, it screamed for release. The gun beckoned from Sergey’s hand, taunting her to give in to the viciousness, but she remained still. Not from fear for herself but for her mother. She would wait until the opportune moment.
“You’re nothing more than a pathetic rat. The honorable Sergey Kravchenko I know would never betray us.”
“One does what one must for their family. Doing things they never dreamed possible for the sake of survival. You should know that yourself. Such as marrying a stranger.” The desolation in his eyes receded to ice, a blackness set to swallow her whole. “But then I saw you with him. You had given your heart to him, and I knew it could never be mine again, that you would never run away with me to save yourself. I knew then that you were not the price for my family’s lives.”
In all his dealings, had Sergey not considered the most likely outcome? “How can you be certain the Bolsheviks will not kill you and your family anyway?”
The blackness in his eyes courted death. “Because if I do not turn you over, we are as good as dead. I have no option but to trust the devil.”
“You low-lying snake! Fork-tongued, weasel, pathetic excuse for a man!” Claws out, Mama lunged across the carriage and raked her nails down Sergey’s face. Ribbons of scarlet tore his cheeks.