I scoff, shaking my head. “You have no idea what you’re up against, so how can you even try to tell me they are safe?” I snap.
He takes a step into my room and folds his arms across his chest. His muscles ripple against the fabric of his shirt, and I groan silently, tearing my eyes away while I imagine him wrapping those arms around me.
“You need to learn to say thank you,” he says slowly.
“Thank you?” I blurt out with a bitter laugh. “Thank you for literally kidnapping us? Sure. That sounds right,” I mutter darkly.
“Tell me what I’m up against, Selene? If it’s so terrible… tell me,” he demands.
He takes another step towards me, and I back away, shaking my head. “Where are my children?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“They’re playing with a box of toys I keep here for my brother’s kids. I asked you a question. You want to tell me I don’t know what’s coming, that I can’t keep you safe from it… so tell me. Tell me so that I can keep you safe,” he growls, his eyes darkening as he comes even closer. I can smell his cologne. It’s intoxicating and distracting.
“Selene, if you are going to keep information from me that ends up putting my children in danger, I swear I will not forgive you,” he snarls darkly.
My heart hammers against my ribs, annoyed with his logic, annoyed that I really should tell him something because he’s right. He’s keeping us here, not letting us go, and I should at least warn him about what’s coming.My father.
But telling him means dishonoring my family. And if my father finds out I spoke about him to a Volkov, his fury will have no limits.
I sigh, biting my lip, trying to figure out what to do.
“Alright,” Simon growls. “I’ll ask the kids. I’m sure they know something. Kids see and hear a lot more than we give them credit for…”
“No!” I blurt out, horrified at the idea of him interrogating my children. “Leave them out of this!” I snap.
“Well, then, tell me something, Selene. Tell me what’s coming? Or Iwillfucking ask them. I will do whatever it takes to protect them.”
I stare at him, willing daggers to shoot from my eyes and pierce through his skull, but nothing happens.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I realize I’m backed into a corner. Another corner. Another man using my children to control me.
For fuck’s sake, when will this end?
I take a deep breath while my gaze traces his features. Beautiful, built like a Greek god, perfection at every curve. Butjustlike other men.Justlike my father. Taking control where he has no right to take it.
I bite my lip and consider my options. In the end, I have only one. For the sake of my children… I have to tell Simon what’s coming for him when my father finds out where we are.
“Have you heard of The Ghost?” I whisper in defiant concession.
“I have…” he says slowly, his curiosity piqued and his head cocked to the side. “What has that got to do with…”
“Alek Mykros is my father. The Ghost. The man who can control things with invisible strings. He is my father, and he will come for the children and me.”
“Mykros,” he whispers as recognition and understanding flash across his face. Then his eyes narrow, and confusion streaks his expression.
“But five years ago, you told me your name was SeleneBaros. You lied to me?” His eyes darken.
“No, no, I didn’tlieto you, Simon. I chose to use my mother’s maiden name.”
I never wanted to be a Mykros. My mother’s family was kind and loving. Nothing like my father. And after she died… I never wanted his surname to be my name.
He sneers, staring coldly at me. “An omission of the truth is no less devastating than a lie. Did I ever know who you really were? You hid yourself, knowing it would be an issue if my family found out. If I found out… my enemy’s daughter… Your father is allied with many of my rivals.” I see the way his thoughts begin to build puzzles behind those beautiful caramel eyes. I see the inevitable assumptions and the shift in his expression when he reaches the most obvious conclusion.
“Where are youspyingon my family?” The words come out of him like fire.
“No,” I say instantly. But as I say it, I realize that no answer could really change his mind. No matter how I deny it, it only makes me seem more guilty. If I overexplain, I’m covering for something. If I explain nothing, it’s as though I’m hiding something.
I clench my jaw and stare at him, at his mind shifting, at the way he’s looking at me like I’m a problem he didn’t consider until this moment.
