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Our hatred for each other spiraled out of control. I spiraled out of control.
And it felt so good.
He only sees me as a tool. I’m nothing to him. He respects his gun more than me. Lying back against the table, I stare at the ceiling fans that swirl lazily above. I lift my hand, fingers spreading. My wedding ring glints in the light like a star.
“Arsen,” I whisper to myself, “you were lying from the start.”
He doesn’t want a real wedding. He just wants something more concrete to leverage against Yevgeniy. He only wants me now because I’m Yevgeniy’s daughter.
It doesn’t matter if he knew or not; the result is the same—I’m here to help him defeat Yevgeniy. It wasn’t about keeping me or my mom safe. I drop my hand, tracing it over my belly absently. My stomach is flat, but I picture the roundness that awaits me. I never made it that far with my last pregnancy.
If I’m not careful ...
I won’t this time either.
Shutting my eyes tight as a wave of agonizing shame overwhelms me, I hold back a small whimper. I don’t want to cry—I want to be strong. I need to be strong. I have to keep myself together if I’m going to figure out what to do next.
Slowly, I push myself up with help from the table. It takes me a moment to gather all my clothing. The wet panties make me feel even more ashamed to put them back on, but I’m not leaving them here in this room for someone else to stumble upon.
I adjust my hair and dress. When I stare at my reflection in the glass surface of a framed painting on the wall, I see that he left his marks on my neck, my chest … everywhere.
I gingerly brush the redness on my neck from his hand. The impression looks just like his fingers.
Again, I expect a shiver of disgust.
But all I feel is a shameful flutter of pleasure that rises to meet me.
He’s corrupted me. I wasn’t like this before. The idea leaves me feeling empty. How else have I been transformed because of this brutal man? I should have known better. How can anything but bad things happen when you spread your legs for a killer? I was crazy to think there was potential here for a happy future. God, I’m so stupid.
Glancing up, I spot the large fridge in the corner. Now that I’m alone, I can study this room with more scrutiny. From the polished floors to the decked-out bar, Arsen has spared no expense. Opening the fridge, I find bottles of expensive mineral water among the rows of beer. Whom does he entertain here? I wonder, cracking a bottle. Chugging the water, I revel in the chill of it rolling down my throat, chasing away my own fevered desire.
With a relieved gasp, I wipe my wrist over my lips. I give the room another curious stare.
I start opening drawers in the cupboards. One of them contains a row of shot glasses. Lifting one out, I can tell by the heft that it’s expensive. On its side is an engraving. Kostya, I read, my heart racing. Placing the glass back, I check the next. Mikhail. Another. Nikolai. I’m reading all of them rapidly now. Iosif, Bogdan, Lev ... These are all Arsen’s men.
The final shot glass has a gold line circling the upper ridge. It’s bigger than the rest. I’m not shocked when I read Arsen’s name carved into the surface. This is their little clubhouse, I realize. Picturing all of them laughing in here, plotting their next moves—planning how to use me—makes my blood boil.
I bet he asked them what he should do with me. How to best manipulate me in his war with Yevgeniy. I bet he’s going to brag to them how he fucked me here.
Scowling at the empty air I’ve filled with pretend images, I slam the cupboard shut. Whatever rage had started to cool returns with a vengeance. With it comes the raw grief I’d been holding at bay.
Stalking around the room, I drop heavily onto a large leather couch. It’s incredibly soft and comfortable, and somehow it makes me feel worse. He creates these bubbles of luxury for everyone. He works to give the illusion that he cares. But it’s all a joke ... all of it. Nothing was ever real. Holding my head in my hands, I curl into a ball. It’s instinctual—a way to protect myself.
It doesn’t help me feel safe.
Nothing will do that except ...
Except leaving Arsen.
The concept jolts me like a bolt of lightning. Yes, that’s it. I can’t be here. Everything he did ... everything he said was a lie from the start. I can’t trust him ever again. That much is for sure. The only thing I know for sure right now is that I have a baby to keep safe.
And my mother. I got her mixed up in this too.
I hate myself for dragging her to this place. Arsen swore she’d be safe with him, but that was another damn lie.
My love for my mother and this growing baby are the only things that are real anymore. If I want to keep him from ruining them both, I have to get away from him.
It’s common sense. But the moment I realize what I must do, my muscles constrict, making it a challenge to draw a full breath in. I was already hugging myself. But now, I ball up tighter. The tension behind my eyes threatens to become a shower of tears. What’s wrong with me? Why does this hurt? I’ve agonized over every awful thing Arsen has done to me. I can make a list that stretches endlessly.
