Page 8 of Dangerous Promises

"You may not remember, you were too young," Angie says, sighing. "The point is, do not discount Chet while he's quiet, by the time he becomes loud it's already too late."

I run my fingers over my lips where they've gone cold. I do remember. Of all of us I've spent the most time on the receiving end of Chet's wrath. I know all too well he was never showy like Victor. He's everything Angie said, and it is even more horrifying up close.

"Don't stress yet," Angie says, signature smile back on her face. "Word is he's desperate for Rushkoff blood. But I surmise he'll eventually be coming for yours."

"Rushkoff blood?" Anton asks.

"As far as he's concerned he had a deal with the Rushkoffpakhanto hand Miss DeMarco over to him. Regardless of who thatpakhanwas."

"I see," Anton says.

I frown. "Well, I don't. Chet wants to kill Alexei? He can get in fucking line."

Anton closes his eyes on a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"He wants to kill all of you, girl," Angie says.

"I'm not worried," Freddie shrugs.

"You should be," Angie says. Still, Freddie is unfazed.

I narrow my eyes on Angie. Thinking of all the ways I hate her, too.

"You're not buying this?" I spin towards my uncle. He doesn't answer, which is answer enough in itself. "Oh, fuck this."

I storm off up the driveway, not sure where I'm going, but knowing I've got too much energy to burn off to stay here, and everyone is too exhausted with me to follow.

It's beyond ridiculous to think Chet is behind any of this when Alexei is right here in my face, readying to torment me in new ways every day. Besides his little stunt with Victor, Chet has been quiet for over ten years.

I stop when I hear Angie chuckle at something Anton has said. Annoyed to turn around and find them conversing without thought to my tantrum.

I rush up the driveway at just short of a run. So angry that all I can do is pout and growl to let it out. Mostly for the usual reasons.

But especially because Anton seems to be buying all this crap.

Even more so if I let myself buy it, too.

By now Angie must be transporting Dad back from wherever she's been hiding him. I've visited Dad a lot and I couldn't even take a guess at all the places she had him.

To me, it's unbelievable that anybody could figure out Dad is alive, let alone find him. That Alexei could've done it is impressive. That Chet could've done it has to be impossible.

Alexei doesn't have any reason to hunt for my father. Chet… well I don't want to think about that. He's been a non issue for long enough. His working with Victor had to be a fluke. A twist of opportunity. Nothing more than a quick loss and we will never hear from him again.

I wish I could be glad that Dad gets to come home. Back in his own bed. For some reason I can't be there to see it happen. I can't be there to see the evidence of what I did to my father. Not when I'm still trying to make amends for what I did tohim.

The only thing I want to focus on is my death promise with the psychotic Rushkoff. The world could be imploding around me, and I'm pretty sure it is, and I still don't have enough room in my mind to focus on anything other than the pact I made with him.

My mindless walk away from my family estate has me turning up in the most familiar place. I stand on the road outside the cemetery, looking over the rolling grass hills and gravestones. There are no fences surrounding the block, so I can see straight in, but I can't go in there.

In the distance though I can see it. His grave. My heart pangs as I notice even from this distance that the flowers are long wilted, with nothing fresh laid for him in months. It's like the world has moved on and forgotten him already. It was never my intention to forget him or to abandon him, but that's certainly what it feels like seeing the neglect of his grave site.

Even as these thoughts bring tears to my eyes, I still won't bring myself to go any closer. If I don't have the space in my mind to think about anything other than the death promise, then I don't have space for this loss either.

I don't see a way forhimto be at peace until his killer is dead.

Peace for me does not exist, at least. All I want to do is bring it to him.

Flashes of him return in my mind as I close my eyes. His hand running down my cheek. His desperate eyes every time he kissed me when he knew he wasn't supposed to. His hand slipping from mine as it went cold...