Page 144 of Sinful Lord

What do I value more?

The answer dances around my exhausted mind. I think of all that Tytus has done for me; the way he’s supported my passions. The respect he seems to have for my work.

Then I remember the studio my brother built for me at our compound. He supported me too.

But Rian didn’t understand, not like Tytus does. My brother just wanted me to be happy. To be comfortable.

Tytus wants me to feel fulfilled.

Fuck.

Why is this so hard?

Doubt crawls over me like a growing shadow. One second, I’m thinking about all the excitement my life could still hold if I stay with Tytus for just a little longer. The next, I’m realizing just how terrifying that option is.

How could I ever trust Tytus?

Sure, he might have just spilled the truth, but before that, there was nothing but lies between us.

He didn’t help me escape my gilded cage because he saw a tortured artist yearning for freedom, he did it because he saw a pawn ready to be used.

My family was only ever trying to protect me from that. And after all I’ve been through, I can actually appreciate it.

God, I miss my family.

Looking over my shoulder, I stare at the locked door. It weighs heavily on my mind. Loneliness fills the bedroom.

Suddenly, I see little Tytus again. He’s still surrounded by emptiness… until I appear. I stand next to him. We’re almost smiling. And then, he disappears, and I’m all alone.

“Shit,” I mumble.

A jittery breath escapes my throat. I turn back to the computer and close my eyes.

My finger falls onto the return button.

I click send.

26

Tytus

This doesn’t feel right.

None of this fucking feels right. But it’s not the pressure of being so far underground. It’s not the sewage water dripping from the ceiling or the stale dank air.

It’s the fact that I’m not with her.

My fingers tighten around the handle of my gun. My eyes glare through the shadow ahead. Maksim quietly stalks at my side. We silently trudge forward.

I’m filled with dread.

I told Melina I love her.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Fuck,” an audible curse slips out, echoing around the oversized tunnel.

“What?” Maksim asks, already on-guard.