Page 114 of Nemesis

When her chin finally tilts up to mine, her face is red and flushed, cheeks glittering with silent tears. There’s something clutched to her chest, so small I nearly miss it on first assessment.

No.

I scramble to the floor, trying to wrap her trembling limbs. “It’s not what you think⁠—”

She shrugs off my touch. “It’s a passport with your picture and a plane ticket to leave. It’s exactly what I think.”

My panic flares. Honestly, I haven’t thought once about the ticket or the fake ID in nearly a month. I’d tucked both beneath the mattress that first week we arrived, back when I was sure there would be a day when Octavia didn’t want me around anymore. I’m such an idiot.

“Please,” I beg, reaching for her hand. Each tear that streams out of her bright green eyes brings a fresh ache. “Please, listen. I bought that months ago, back when we first got free.”

“So,” she sniffs. “You were planning to leave months ago.”

“No, I mean…” Fuck. I drag a hand over my face. “It was a backup plan. I wanted to make sure you were recovering. That you were okay. I didn’t know if you were going to want me to stay⁠—”

“If you don’t want to stay, you can leave, Vasiliy,” she says. Her eyes look past me, flattening with a faraway look.

“Octavia,” I start, only to have the ticket pressed into the center of my chest.

“I meant what I said,” she says with a soft sniffle that rearranges my brain. “I’m sorry for uprooting your life as I did. You shouldn’t have had to wait until I could get myself out of bed before leaving.”

“Octavia,” I try again, crinkling the small paper in my fist. “I was never going to leave, baby.” My hands frame her face, forcing her to see the truth in my eyes. The tears keep falling in quiet streams. “Please, you have to believe me. It was just a silly thing I did after we were released. I didn’t know how to manage the insecurity of our situation, so I did the first thing that came to mind.”

“And you had every right,” she whispers, tilting her head. “I’m such a fool.” The tears fall even faster, and my racing heart matches their pace. “I bet you wanted to laugh every time I spoke about running away together. I guess I’m still that naive girl who clung to your shirt in the cage.”

“No. Never. I didn’t want to leave,” I say, leaning my forehead down to hers. “That’s why I only needed one ticket. One passport. I knew I would only leave if you asked me to.” Her skin is flushed and hot against mine, but I immediately miss the heat when she pulls away.

“You don’t have to say that, Vas,” she whispers, wiping her wet cheeks and climbing to her feet. “I won’t hold you back any longer. I promise.” Her voice breaks on the last word.

“You’re not⁠—”

She’s already slipping out of the room, taking my heart with her. I’m torn between chasing after her and giving her time. Would she even believe me if I explained why I bought the ticket all over again? That it had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with my own failures?

I don’t want to give her time to think. I want to pull her into my lap and kiss away all the hurt I caused. I want to crawl on my knees at her feet, promising her there wasn’t a single reality where I’d have actually left her.

I don’t do any of that.

My head dips forward.

I hate the distance that stretches between our bodies as her footsteps fade down the hall. Of course, I didn’t leave you, I want to shout after her.

You’re my entire world. Where would I even go?

Except, how can I promise such a thing while Uncle’s veiled threats hang above my throat?

Uncurling the ticket, I tear it down the middle. Each piece falls back into my grip before splitting again. I can’t stop tearing the remains, even when the pieces are hardly big enough to grasp. Paper falls around my legs like a dusting of snow.

“Again. Hit harder this time.” I wipe a bead of sweat from my brow before it can burn my eye, settling back into my fighting stance.

Nik’s going easy on me.

He always takes it easy on me.

Kirill is the only cousin who doesn’t treat me like a fragile doll while we spar, and that’s only because he’s rather shit at any form of combat that doesn’t involve his knives. Not that I’m judging—I can’t handle blades half as well as him. Still, the last thing I want right now is for my opponent to hold back and let me pretend I’m winning fairly.

In fact, it’s really starting to piss me off.

I charge through the makeshift fighting ring, slamming my fist into Nik’s chin at a speed that could have been blocked. Blood bursts beneath my handwraps, dampening my knuckles.