I have no rational answer other than… I was afraid.
Fedorov is no man to be trifled with. He’s a monster to the bone, and after living in his custody for almost ten years, the mere thought of him makes me dizzy.
The same man who pretended to be kind then took everything from me. He’s hurt me so many times—and I couldn’t bear the thought he was doing the same to Eva.
So I helped him. I did what he told me I had to do, like so many years when I was his pet.
“You’restillhis pet,” I whisper hoarsely to myself, the shame so deep it’s a pang in my stomach. “You stupid idiot. What did you do, Jhene? How could you?”
I mop away the tears with my hands, barely pausing to pull my glasses off.
It doesn’t help much. The tears keep coming, spilling out like a faucet I can’t turn off.
I’m not even a crier, but for once, I can’t helpmyself. I can’t shut down the emotions Killian’s awakened inside me any easier than I can stop breathing.
Everything I was afraid of has come true. I knew from the beginning that Killian and I could never really be together—not with the secrets I was keeping—but I let myself hope anyway. I let myself believe maybe I could have something good for once in my miserable life.
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
And the worst part? I still don’t have Eva. All of this, from the lies and betrayal and destruction of the only real relationship I’ve ever had, and I still don’t have my sister back.
Eva’s still trapped somewhere in Fedorov’s clutches. I’m no closer to saving her than I was the day I walked into the Banshee for a job.
Now I’ve lost everything and I have nothing to show for it. I’ve hurt Killian in a way he never deserved, and I’ll never forgive myself.
The burner phone buzzes in my hand. Fedorov’s number flashes on the screen. My stomach roils at the sight of it.
I could answer and tell him what happened. Beg for mercy and promise to do better.
Instead, I shove the phone in my pocket and keep walking.
I make it another half block before the feeling hits me—the prickling awareness at the back of my neck that I’m being watched.
Slowing down, I glance around the dark street with my heart hammering faster.
The Deathless steps out of the shadows, choosing now to reveal himself. His dark hair falls past his shoulders, and his military-grade half mask covers the lower portion of his face. His eyes are dark and dead, devoid of anything resembling human emotion.
…if he’s here, it’s nothing good. It means trouble; it meansdeath.
“Come,” he says, his voice emotionless. “You have an appointment with the sovietnik. He is not pleased.”
I turn and take a final look down the street, toward the building where Killian’s studio is. The window that belongs to his apartment is still lit, a golden square of warmth.
Then, as I watch, the light goes out. The window turns into another black square like the many others.
If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.
It’s over, and this is my life. It’s always been my life, even when I let myself believe I could someday be free.
The truth is, I belong to the Bratva. I’m Fedorov’s to do with as he wishes, and that’s never changing.
I give a small nod and then follow The Deathless into the dark.
TWENTY-THREE
Killian
I’ve been trainingfor six hours straight and still can’t outrun my thoughts.
