All Chapters of Her Neglected Scars: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

“I can’t wait to serve you.”Sofia’s voice crawls over my skin, thick and fake. I freeze on the concrete steps. The biting Russian air hits my face, but inside, I am completely numb. The ground feels like it’s tilting beneath my boots. I stare at the crisp, perfectly tailored grey uniform she is wearing. It isn’t the standard servant attire of the Morozov estate. It’s expensive wool. Custom-made. My father isn’t even trying to hide his move anymore. He sent his favorite executioner straight to my doorstep, draped in Bennington luxury.Next to me, Konstantin shifts. His massive frame radiates a sudden, dangerous heat. Ever since he discovered the silver crosshatch of old scars on my back earlier, his eyes have never left me. He doesn’t look at me with pity—a man like him doesn’t know how—but he watches me with a dark, razor-sharp protectiveness.His large palm presses flat against the small of my back. His hand grounds me, but I can still feel the tremor shaking my knees.“Who the fu

“Who did that?”The question rattles against the heavy walls of my bedroom. Leonid stands completely rigid, his small finger pointing directly at my face, his dark eyes wide and chillingly identical to his uncle’s when someone is about to die.Before I can even open my mouth to manufacture a lie, Sofia cuts in. She steps forward, her hands smoothing down the front of her crisp grey maid uniform.Sofia moves first.“Oh, that.” She laughs, soft and practiced, already stepping forward with her hands folded in front of her like the perfect devoted maid she absolutely is not. “Lady Evangeline had a small fall earlier, didn’t you, my lady?” Her eyes find mine over Leonid’s head. Warm for the room. Dead for me. “The steps outside were slippery. I kept telling her to be careful.”She tilts her head. Waits.And I know exactly what she’s waiting for.I see my mother’s face behind my eyes. That photograph. Miranda’s hollow cheeks and trembling hands and today’s date written in my father’s handw

Dinner ends and nobody moves for exactly three seconds.Leonid is already pushing his chair back.Konstantin clears his throat, setting his stained wine glass down. Carlos takes that as his cue, offering a brief, formal nod before exiting the room with a thick stack of ledger documents tucked under his arm. Konstantin shifts in his seat, as he glances down at his watch. Across the table, a maid steps forward from the shadows, her shoes clicking softly against the marble floor as she approaches Leonid. “Master Leonid, it is time for bed,” she says softly, reaching out a hand toward the little boy. The evening is closing, the house is winding down, and upstairs, in my room, Sofia is waiting. I can’t go back there yet. I need to stretch the clock. I need to prolong the time. I know that as long as I am within Konstantin’s sight or attached to Leonid, Sofia won’t dare touch me. “Wait—“Both of them look at me.I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.“Could we — I mean — do you have

The leather uncoils with a wet, heavy slap against the hardwood, and the sound alone is enough to violently jerk me out of the warm, lingering haze of the billiards room. “Crack the door, let a single sound out, and we see how the great Russian bear likes finding out his precious little bird is a Bennington rat.”My stomach drops into a bottomless, icy void. The sheer terror isn’t just for the pain I know is coming; it’s the sudden, agonizing realization of how easily I let myself forget. I actually let myself believe, even for a handful of seconds, that a game of pool and a low, gravelly nickname could buy me safety. I am so pathetic. I mock myself silently as I move toward the bathroom, my limbs heavy and clumsy with dread. I reach for the white cotton hand towel hanging over the porcelain basin. It feels rough against my palms, dry and ordinary, a stark contrast to the violence about to unfold. I fold it twice, shove it between my teeth, and bite down until my jaw aches. The

I know what it’s like to be trapped in a cage, hurting so badly you want to scream, while everyone looks at you and only sees a weapon.I take a slow breath, expanding my lungs carefully to minimize the sting in my back, and walk toward the reinforced steel gates of the corner stall.The stallion’s ears twitch instantly.He lifts his head, his wild eyes locking onto me as he lets out a defensive, raspy snort, his muscles tensing as if he’s preparing to charge the bars.“Easy,” I whisper, my voice dropping into a soft, melodic purr.I don’t stop walking, but I move with complete, fluid grace, keeping my hands low and visible.“Easy, boy. I’m not going to hurt you. Look at me. I’m tiny. You could crush me with one hoof if you wanted to.”I reach the gate and slowly slide the heavy iron bolt open.The metal screeches softly, and the stallion takes a sharp step back, baring his teeth.My heart is beating so loud I can hear it in my ears, but I force myself to step inside the stall, closin