Nikolai

The slamming of the door behind Calista did little to quiet the storm in my head. Her report echoed, a persistent, buzzing fly in the space Igor’s inane television show had left behind. She used my name. My name. A flicker of possessive anger sparked. That little runaway, that thieving, traumatized mouse, had dared to invoke me as her shield before my mother. I should march to her room right now, drag her out of whatever corner she was cowering in, and remind her with my hands around ...