Page 26 of The Wrong Brother

I can’t risk running again.

By dawn, I’ve officially spiraled into exhaustion. I must finally fall asleep sometime after sunrise because the next thing I know, a soft creak jolts me violently awake.

My body reacts before my brain does.

I sit upright instantly, heart slamming against my ribs hard enough to hurt. For one disoriented second, I genuinely think Ruslan finally decided to stop pretending and drag me downstairs to some horrifying mafia interrogation room.

Or show up to take “what he wants,” as he so eloquently growled in the café. The thought sends a shot of heat to my core, and I push away the traitorous feeling of want, staring in surprise at…

A girl.

She’s leaning around the door, light hair swaying. We blink at each other.

She can’t be older than eleven or twelve, dressed in a school uniform with a backpack slung over one shoulder. She looks equally startled by my reaction.

“Whoa,” she says slowly.

My pulse continues thundering wildly while I try to recover enough dignity not to look completely insane.

“Sorry,” I croak. “You scared me.”

The girl tilts her head curiously. “Why?”

Good question, honestly. Before I can figure out how to answer that, her expression brightens suddenly with realization.

“Oh!” She steps fully into the room. “You’re Uncle Ruslan’s guest.”

Then it hits me—thisis the girl I heard calling for him the morning after we?—

I feel my cheeks heat and shut down the thought quickly. I hadn’t seen the girl when I’d run out of the house.

So this is his niece.

The little girl stares right back, completely unbothered, like finding random women sleeping in her terrifying uncle’s guest room is a normal Thursday occurrence.

Which somehow feels worse.

“You’re Kate,” I realize aloud.

Her face lights up instantly. “He told you about me?”

“Sort of.”

Mostly I remember the way his entire demeanor changed when she interrupted us the morning after. Right after Ruslan saw my reaction to Andrei on the television.

The rage, the distrust in his features had melted away. Like someone had flipped a switch inside him. The sharp edgesdisappeared immediately. And his warning the other day—not to go near Kate. She must be important to him. My heart pounds out a warning beat. What will he do if he finds her here chattering away while I sit in bed, stunned?

Kate drops her backpack onto the floor carelessly and studies me with alarming intensity. “You look tired.”

I laugh weakly. “Thanks.”

“You also look prettier than the girls Uncle Russ usually dates.”

I choke. “Oh my God.”

She shrugs like this is objective fact. “Most of them are mean.”

“That’s…probably not something you should say out loud.”