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And when it does, everyone else will be caught in the crossfire.
Alek
I’m on edge.
I stand near the curtain as Headmaster Popov delivers a graduation address to the auditorium. From this angle, I can spot my parents sitting front and center. The headmaster just spent five minutes singing my father’s praises for opening this school and how we all owe our education to him.
Grigor Kurochkin, our benevolent leader.
When our class steps onto the stage to perform our dance, his lecherous gaze will be watching Willow, and no one will have a clue their beloved president is a pervert. But if they knew, it wouldn’t matter. They’d turn a blind eye to it because my father is the reason for their status and wealth.
I glare daggers at him, though he can’t see me in the shadows. I despise the man for ripping away the only thing I ever cared about.
Now, whenever I look at Willow, I have the urge to scream, to punch the walls, to slash out my own heart to end the pain of losing her. The pain of not being able to say, “I love you, too.”
Risking a glance, I peer across the stage to where the girls are waiting in the wings opposite the boys. Willow is standing apart from the others, staring at the headmaster with a faraway look on her face.
I am watching her like a hawk because today is the deadline I gave myself to change her mind about ending her own life. And I worry I’ve failed.
I may be powerless against my father, but at least I can intervene if she makes the choice.
“Hey, what’re you staring at?” Konstantin whisper-shouts. He slaps my arm when he approaches, and I raise a finger to my lips to quiet him.
He follows my line of vision across the stage where Willow is standing. “I’m not her biggest fan, but I’ll admit, I’ve never seen you as happy as you were with her.”
I don’t respond, but that doesn’t discourage him from continuing. “I mean, you’ve always been an asshole, but since the breakup, you’ve been extra asshole-y.”
“That isn’t a word.”
“No, but it’s the only way to describe your assholiness.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “You are exhausting.”
“By the way,” he says, “have you decided on your post-graduation plans yet? Are you still going to Switzerland?”
I wince. Switzerland was where I wanted to go with Willow.
“No,” I say. “My father is sending me to Moscow to study political science.”
“And after? Are you taking the reins?”
“I’ll come back and work as a secretary under my father until he decides to retire. Or die, God willing.” I clench my fists, popping my knuckles with a loud crack.
As long as Grigor Kurochkin lives, I will never be free. Instead, I’m doomed to a miserable life without Willow in it.
I want nothing more than to wrap my hands around his throat and watch the light leave his eyes. But killing your predecessor takes patience, time, and careful cunning. I would be one of the first suspects because I have the most to gain from his death.
But when it comes to Willow, I can’t afford patience or time. She’s slipping from my fingers, and after today, I’m afraid she’ll either flee the country or worse—end it all.
Konstantin chuckles, the sound grating on my ears. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, Mr. Future President.”
“If I get elected.”
“We both know you will.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I whisper, sweeping my gaze over the audience. My father has his guards stationed at every exit, and they stand at attention with assault rifles strapped to their backs. Their expressions are blank, except for the fidgety one. I don’t recognize him.
“What makes you say that?” Konstantin asks.
