“But Maxsim didn’t topple the king. Nikolai isn’t dead.”
Uneased by the authority in Justine’s tone, Maddox tries to coerce her off the ledge. “J—”
“No!” she fires back, her eyes fully lit. “Nikolai isn’t dead! I’d know if he were dead. I would fucking know it.” As a queen rises to command her monarchy, her pauper of a brother falls into line. “I somehow got from Florida to Vegas with my life intact. That wouldn’t have occurred without Nikolai’s help.”
With another theory at the ready to be confirmed, I say, “The Vasilievs used a subsidiary entity to bid on you last year. You’re only alive because they see you as an asset.”
Maddox doesn’t blink, move, or breathe. He does nothing. He either has no clue who I’m talking about or he’s a skilled actor.
I give it another attempt to poke the bear. “I’ll call a physician to check you over. He’s very discreet. I assure you, nothing you tell him willeverleave this room.”
This time Maddox’s facial expression alters from peeved to concerned. However, his response has nothing on Justine’s. “I don’t need a doctor. I wasn’t raped. Nikolai would never let that happen. He’d kill any man stupid enough to get within an inch of me.”
“He couldn’t protect you from the grave, J.”
I want to ram Maddox’s words back into his throat with my fists, but before I can, Justine takes him down in a way only a sibling can—with a disappointing stare. “Then I’m lucky he isn’t dead, aren’t I?”
As she races to a set of drawers in the corner of the room, her towel slips off her body. I instantly drop my eyes to my feet, not just out of respect for Nikolai, but for K as well. She trusts me because I’ve never given her any reason not to. Well, until tonight when I forced her into Eight’s car.
After yanking on a pair of sweatpants and one of Nikolai’s shirts, Justine pivots to face me. “Where are the men?” A mask I’ve never seen her wear slips over her face when Maddox steps toward her with his hands held out like she is a child. “Where are my men!”
Happy to remind Maddox about who runs the show here, I say, “They’re in the den.”
Justine is out the door before half of my reply leaves my mouth. After flashing Maddox a shit-eating grin, I chase his sister down. “What are you planning?”
The fogginess in my head lifts a little when Justine replies, “I’m going to fulfill the role I was born to live. I’m going to be Nikolai’s queen.”
Then perhaps you can help me make K mine?
Ten
Kristina
Iblink through the grogginess coating my eyes when a familiar face pops into my peripheral vision. Although it isn’t the bearded face I was hoping for, it’s still comforting. “Hey there, baby Sis. Welcome back,” Eight says with a smile before scooting back. “You hungry?”
Even though I shake my head, he digs through a backpack sitting on the corner of the blanket I’m waking up on. Although appreciative I didn’t blackout forever, I would have preferred waking up anywhere but here. We’re on the lower level of the compound Vladimir imprisoned his captives at. The concrete pillars holding up the second story protects us from the harsh Las Vegas weather, and the blanket saves my skin from being covered with the soot no amount of rainfall will clear.
Tears prick my eyes when Eight commences peeling an orange. I’m not tearing up because the citrus from the peel squirted my eyes. It’s from what he says while peeling it. “Trey said if you won’t eat for you, do it for bub. If she’s anything like her daddy, she’ll be hankering for a feed 24/7.”
After splitting the peeled orange in half, he hands the bigger portion to me. “No,” he replies with a shake of his head when he reads the silent questions beaming from my eyes when I accept my share of our breakfast. “They’re close, though. They found Rico, Blaire, and Eli. Nikolai should be next.” When my eyes dilate more, he adds, “They’re a bit shaken up, but alive.” He runs the back of his index finger down my screwed nose like my dad used to before saying, “Kinda like you, eh? You scared me, sis. You were out a while.”
When I lean to the side so I can peer up at the gaping hole that was once enclosed by a wooden roof, my jaw drops. The sun is barely hanging in the sky. It’s well into the afternoon.
Spotting my shocked expression, Eight moves a chunk of orange to the side of his mouth so he can laugh. “I said you were out for a while.” He licks juice off his lips before asking, “What brought you back? I tried all Trey’s suggestions. Nothing worked.”
Shrugging, I pop a wedge of orange into my mouth.
“Oh well, at least you’re back now.” He stands to his feet to dust soot off his backside. “I better give Trey an update. He lost his shit when I told him our location. If he knows you’re back, I might not have to change my name to Seven.”
I’m a terrible person for smiling, but I can’t help it. I’m not just grinning about Eight’s lack of care for his safety, I’m smiling about discovering the reason for my return from the dark. It wasn’t the rain track on Dok’s iPod he gifted me months ago, nor the scent of Trey’s shirt Eight tucked under my head as a pillow. It was the teeny tiny flutters in my stomach.
Although my anxiety is still high, I’m confident the trembles in the lower half of my body have nothing to do with nerves or hesitation.
They’re excitement over dread.
Light instead of dark.
Life not death.
