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Sasha hangs up and hurls his phone at the ground, stomping it under his boot.
"What?" I cry. "Sasha?"
"It was Arman. He did it all."
I never heard Sasha sound so empty. He's the one who muscles through with jokes and pragmatism, but his inner strength has deserted him. "The Moretti thing was a diversion. The komissiya have seen evidence that Arman orchestrated incidents that appeared to be attacks made by the Moretti famiglia." He glances at Vlad. "So when he proceeded with the main event, everything would be in place to frame them."
"No." I'm on my feet, yelling. "You're telling me Arman tried to kill Vlad?"
"Oleg is telling me that," Sasha replies, resignation seeping in. "Beyond Aldo's behavior at the party, the Morettis never did anything. Arman manufactured a problem, then sold the solution idea to Vlad, saying the marriage was for your safety. Once he was officially a family member, he only had to eliminate Vlad to become defacto pakhan."
Arman was lying.
I battled to convince myself my father was wrong about me and that I was worthy of real, lasting love. Now everything I was afraid of and worse has come to pass.
"That's insane," I say. My anger is already dissolving into heartbreak, and my voice cracks as I shout. "Arman wouldn't do that. He loves us. He loves me."
"It was conclusive," Sasha says. "That guy Timur was working with Arman, and he went to the commission meeting and told them the whole story. Timur got suspicious of Arman because of how he talked about the family behind our backs—especially you, Lili. Timur did some investigating of his own and planned to rat out Arman at the meeting tomorrow, but when Vlad was shot…" Words fail him, and he shakes his head.
Avel drops a hand onto my shoulder. "I'll kill him myself," he says evenly, rage simmering beneath his measured tone.
"No, you won't." Sasha sighs. "They gave him to Timur to deal with. The komissiya wouldn't call me with this news if Arman were still alive."
I can't make a sound. I want to scream, howl, rage, but nothing moves me. My entire body is frozen, as though someone wrenched my heart out of my chest and held it before me, still beating.
Arman is dead. The man took everything I had to give, but it wasn't enough; he took back the things he had given me, too. My trust, faith, love, and self-worth are all gone, thrown away like trash in pursuit of a place in the world that wasn't his to take. He used me in every way possible.
My breath catches, my chest seizing as I collapse. Morgana, who had been staring into space as the drama unfolded, flies to my side, trying to help me to my feet.
"No, Lili, come on!" she cries. "Keep it together. You've come so far. You're better than this, better than him! Breathe!"
Why keep going? I haven't just lost Arman; the idea of him has shattered into a thousand pieces. It's worse than I could have imagined. It was all a hideous, twisted lie, and I wasted myself on him. I don't even have his love to hold on to.
There will never be a second time, not for me. I'll never risk feeling this way again.
Breathe, tsvetok. I hear Arman's voice coming to me from my treacherous heart. I can't let go, even knowing what I know. There's nothing you can't do.
My lungs inflate, easing the burn, and I hold Morgana tightly. Then the tears come, and I cry into her shoulder.
I want to leave this place. I can't stay here and feel everyone's pain. On my own, I can fall apart.
"I'm going home," I say.
"Don't go, Lili." Morgana holds me tightly. "Please, stay with us. You've had a terrible shock, this isn't the time to—"
I push her away and stand. "There's no threat to me. I'll call a car to take me to the mansion. Dulcie will be there, and I just want to sleep. Please leave me alone."
"You're right," Sasha says. "There is no threat, and as long as you're going straight there…okay, Lili. You're an adult, and no one is the boss of you. If you wanna go home, go.
Five minutes later, I receive a text notification to say my ride has arrived. I take one last look at Vlad as I leave, my vision still blurred with tears.
44
Lilyana
As we head for the Kislev house, the streets seem weirdly unfamiliar, as though I’m dreaming. I pinch my thigh hard enough to leave a welt, but all I feel is a physical pain to add to the agony permeating my thoughts. The world I thought I knew has crumbled to dust.
My father was right about me. I was an easy mark, a lonely, naive girl with so little world experience that I never knew a man could lie with his every word, thought, and deed. Arman was all too aware that I had led a sheltered life. Was any part of what we had real?
