“Don Gregor Semenov,” Daniil fills in. “I served him faithfully most of my life. I was trained to obey. And when I stopped, he decided to teach me a lesson.”
“By putting you in jail. Jesus Christ.” I tug nervously at the roots of my hair. “Should I be worried, Daniil?” It’s the one thing that’s burning at the forefront of my mind now that I’m calm enough to think about the right questions.
He, on the other hand, looks utterly relaxed. “You and Isla are under my protection now. No harm will come to either one of you. Not while I breathe.”
That should terrify me. It should not comfort me.
But guess which option my screwed-up brain chemistry goes with?
“But is there a possibility of harm coming to us?” I press anyway. “Do you have, like… enemies?”
“A don always has enemies.”
“This Seme
