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His nodded at me, his face steeled. Deal, his eyes said. A pretty fucking deal we just had.
Business talks were done. And I now wanted nothing to do with this place.
Level up, assholes. Time to fuck around with this game—Viktor’s way.
Pulling my phone out of from the inside pocket of my jacket, I brought it to my ear. The night was still young.
And I had one very important phone call to make.
Chapter 24
Valerie
Freshly showered, I walked out of my bathroom. My hair was still wet and it soaked the back of my dress through. The cold chilled through my bones and I fought back a shiver. My bare feet padded over, crossing my room until I was standing next to my bed. My breakfast had been delivered to me a few hours ago. It was now cold, and I still couldn’t bring myself to eat.
Not when I knew what was about to happen.
Not when I knew what this day meant…
Day zero.
Either we die today or live to see the next sunrise.
My heart clenched at the thought, and I closed my eyes, refusing to think of all the bad things that could happen.
When I opened my eyes again…I blinked. Once in confusion. And then in utter shock.
My lips parted but I couldn’t seem to find my words or my voice. My throat was clogged with emotions, and I felt the burning sensation in my eyes. There was wetness on my cheeks, and I swiped it away before looking down at my wet fingertips. I choked back a sob and looked up again, facing my dream.
This couldn’t be reality.
“Irina,” I whispered.
She nodded, taking an unsteady step toward me. Irina looked just as shocked and pale, her chin wobbling with the effort to keep her tears at bay. My legs took me forward before I could think, and I crossed the room until we were standing a foot apart.
I watched her lips move and I wished I could hear her words, her voice.
“Valerie.”
She was really here. In my room.
Not a figment of my imagination.
Irina was here and safe. Unhurt. Alive. Healthy. Smiling.
Irina wore a black dress, the same one I’d seen the maids wearing. Her hair was brushed back neatly, set into a pretty brunette plait. Her hands were folded in front of her. She looked a little nervous, her feet fidgeting left and right.
But she looked so happy that I had to blink in surprise several times, thinking this was just a dream.
Irina raised her arm up, as if to hug me, but then she looked uncertain, scared, confused. Tears slid down her cheeks. “It’s been so long.”
I could only nod. So long. Two years.
“You are okay,” she said, her tear-filled eyes assessing me for any damage. I couldn’t take my eyes off her face. I didn’t want to miss anything. “I was so worried…all this time.”
“Me too,” I found myself saying. Bringing a hand up, I touched her soft cheek. Irina gave me a gentle wobbly smile. “You are real,” I gasped. “Oh God, I missed you.”
This time, Irina didn’t hesitate. I didn’t either. I fell into her arms, and we clung to each other, a desperate attempt to hold each other close. Joy washed through me until I could hardly contain it. Shaking with relief and pure happiness, I pulled back and stared at Irina’s face.
She might have not been my blood sister, but she was no less to me.
Irina had been a friend to me when I needed someone the most.
She was a shoulder to me when I needed to cry. We had been bound to the same reality, the same thread, living the same tortured life.
Irina’s lips curved, a whispered smile. But her eyes said it all. So many emotions. The mirror of so much tragedy yet a pit of never-ending strength. I could see her scars, both the physical and the ones invisible.
She was still so beautiful, though.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you,” I said, releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding in. “When Valentin took you away…I thought…”
Irina nodded her understanding. “I know. I thought it would be my end too. I really did. He was angry. So vicious.”
Her forehead was pinched with a frown. She lost the happy glow and her expression was now tormented. “He was so…brutal.”
Pain seared through me. I understood the meaning behind her words. And I knew exactly how brutal my husband could be. He was a man with no feelings, a man hell bent on destroying others he thought were below him in the hierarchy of game and power.
Valentin Solonik thought he was the King. He wanted a throne that was never his to begin with, and yet he’d fight dirty to win something that didn’t belong to him.
He’d take it.
He’d destroy it.
And then he’d throw it away, now useless to him.
