She gives me one more soft smile before turning away and walking toward the hallway. She disappears from the room, leaving me alone with the fire and the shadows and the relentlessthump, thump, thumpof my heart against my rib cage.
I pick up the mug of chamomile tea and carry it to the window. Outside, the grounds are well lit by the security lights, but I don’t feel any comfort.
I press my forehead against the cold glass.
“Please bring her home,” I whisper.
Letting out a shaky breath, I silently vow to never let anything come between Nessa and me again.
Which is the exact moment the lights go out, and everything is plunged into darkness. The only light comes from the orange glow of the embers in the fireplace.
I freeze as dread funnels through me. It starts in my gut and spreads outward through my limbs until every hair on my body stands on end.
I strain to listen for anything out of place. But the only sound is the crackle of the flames in the fireplace and the roar of my pounding heart in my ears.
Something is wrong.
Darkness presses against the window, and the shadows don’t feel empty.
Like something is watching.
And then, from somewhere in the shadows behind me, I hear it.
“Hello, Antonia.”
Ice slides down my spine.
Konstantin.
I hear his cold, cruel laugh, and my knees go weak, but my grip on the mug tightens.
“Did you miss me?”
49
LEONORE
Iturn around, and there he is.
Konstantin Lomonov.
My evil brother-in-law.
He stands beside the fireplace with his hands clasped in front of him and his legs apart. He’s wearing a black suit without a tie and an evil grin.
My body moves before my brain catches up, and I bolt toward the stairs. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to protect Larissa.
But I only make it four steps before he catches me by my plum hair and yanks me back, so I don’t even make it to the living room. He spins me around, but I use the mug I’m holding to smash against his face.
“Stupid bitch,” he curses as flesh meets boiling water, and everything in me comes to life to fight. I am that woman who holds guns and scalpels to powerful men’s throats. His grip remains iron tight as he still holds my hair, then throws his full weight to swing me around and throw me toward the fireplace. I hit the wall, chest first, and the impact drives the air from mylungs. Before I can suck in another breath, he presses his body into my back and pins me against the wall.
I fight against him, feeling stupid for having ever put the gun down.
He grips my wrist with one hand and presses it to the wall above my head. The other wraps around my jaw and tilts my head to the side so his mouth is at my ear. But I turn so awkwardly and bite at his cheek, ripping flesh. He growls but frees himself and hits my head against the wall. I see stars as I cling to the coppery taste in my mouth.
Fight. I have to fight, but my body has turned sluggish.
“Now, now,” he murmurs. “Why would you try to run when we have so much to catch up on?”
