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Maybe his ten years in jail wasn’t to protect Vlad. Perhaps he didn’t get his scar trying to save me from my father. Was he ever truly there for us? For me? Or was it all a long, sordid game? He tore apart everything I cared about and didn’t even achieve anything. All this carnage for nothing.
And yet. My mind is steering me away from hate and toward agonizing memories. The way he touched me. His words that promised forever, the hands that brought me to life. It’s all vanished like a mirage, leaving me used up and broken.
The worst part is the feeling of grim inevitability. At first, I tried to keep my wits about me, but I soon ran out. Hardly surprising; after all, I’m dumb, right?
I can almost hear my father sneering at me. You’re of no use to me, Lilyana. You can’t read, can’t talk to people. You’re the shame of this family.
My head-in-the-clouds ignorance almost got Vlad killed. A monster very nearly destroyed my big brother, and it’s my fault—I was the one who tempted it.
The car drops me at the house, and I pause, the key in hand. When the vehicle is out of sight, I turn on my heel and walk away, heading for Arman’s apartment.
At his door, I hesitate again, unwilling to go inside and see the trappings of my fake life. My fake love.
Oh, fuck all that. I want my kitten and my stuff. Part of me wants to trash the place, but it’s not my style, and besides, it’s not like he’s around to care.
He’s dead. Arman is dead. He won’t walk in and tell me it’s okay, that they got it wrong. He’ll never say he loves me ever again.
I’d do anything to hear those words one more time, even if they were lies.
I walk inside, and Napolean springs into my arms, his tiny claws digging into me.
“Hey, woah.” I hold him to my chest. “What’s the matter?”
A figure stands up from the couch, indistinct in the gloom, and I scream.
“Lilyana, relax,” he says. “It’s me.”
I slap the wall, feeling for the other switch. I click it, and the lounge is bathed in light. It’s Timur, smiling at me as if he has every right to be here. Behind him on the table, I see a line of white powder and a razor blade.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “You can’t just—”
“I took Arman’s keys. I was already here, just relaxing in what is now my apartment, when I saw you were on your way.” He holds up Arman’s phone. “He put a tracker in your necklace. That’s how he knew when to spring his abduction trap on you. Ingenious stuff; I had some respect for him.”
“You killed him.”
He shrugs. “Arman tried to murder your brother. You should be thanking me, and you will, in time.”
“What the Hell are you talking about?”
Timur takes a step toward me. “Well, here’s the thing. The komissiya have taken temporary control of your family while the issue of succession is addressed. I have a way to resolve that for them, but I need your help.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge, and I back up slowly, the edge of the kitchen counter sharp on my back. Napoleon mews, feeling my tension, and Timur laughs.
“Dick me around, and that little shit will be the first thing to go,” he says, his smile growing colder. “Surely you’ve worked it out?”
I shake my head.
“I’m gonna do you a favor and replace Arman. The komissiya have appointed me your bodyguard; you will appoint me as your husband.” He quickly closes the space between us and snatches Napoleon from me, tossing him on the counter. He skitters away to his hideout and darts inside. “It’s the only way for you to ensure your family is in safe hands.”
“I don’t know you!” I scream, raising my hands to ward him off. “You can’t be serious!”
“You misunderstand.” He clutches my wrists, pinning them to my sides. “Arman is my half-brother, but I didn’t realize until tonight. I killed our father years ago, and now I’m back to lay waste to everything he loves.”
My stomach lurches. Is he crazy?
“I shot your brother, then set up your idiot husband for the deed,” Timur spits. “I wanted to fucking kill him, so I did, with the consent and encouragement of your komissiya. He suffered to his last breath; I promise you that. What do you think will happen if you don’t play along?”
I struggle, but he twists my wrist, sending a sharp pain through the tendon. “So get this through your broken little head,” he continues. “You will give me an heir, and everything that would have been Arman’s will be mine. And the best part? I told him all this before I ended his worthless life.”
