Page 95 of The Agreement

“I want to help you, I want to—”

“Leave, Roman. Now.”

She didn’t even let him get the words out, screeching loud enough to make Roman stand with a jerk. The last straw for him.

Roman said nothing as he gathered his clothes, refusing to even look at her as he put on his pants, then reached for his shoes. His shirt came next, and still, he remained silent. So, why did it feel like she could hear him screaming with every movement he made?

Maybe that was just her own mind.

Karine remained on the bed, pulling the sheet up and around her trembling body. She wanted to shroud herself with it—hide inside it. He still wouldn’t meet her eyes as he finished dressing.

Good.

Those tears came harder now—he wouldn’t want to see those—stinging her skin as they rolled down.

She sucked in a deep breath, the air stuttering the whole way into her lungs, as Roman left through the open doors of the veranda. He didn’t look back at her when he went, either. When she was sure he was gone, the footsteps from his retreat fading into the darkness, she let out a wail. A cry so loud, so broken, Karine was certain it shook the walls.

If only the house would crumble, too.

That’s what it deserved.

Karine couldn’t stop the heavy sobs that fought their way out of her chest, the force heaving her shoulders with each one. Not even when her bedroom door flew open, and Masha came running in soon after. She couldn’t breathe—every gulp, it wasn’t enough.

“It’s not me. It’s not,” she wailed, shrieking the words through her trembling hands that she waved at an approaching Masha. “It’s not me, Masha. I’m not Katee—I’m not. I’m not!”

The more she said it, the worse her darkening thoughts and reality fractured. Images and memories flooding in to prove that what she said might not be true—she didn’t know her own mind. Couldn’t trust it, but what was new?

That was her whole life.

Masha rushed over to her, throwing her arms around her in what should have been a comforting cage as she held her close. Except that safety was gone. The cold weight sinking in her stomach had chilled her to the bone. Her caretaker whispered soft words that she couldn’t hear over the sound of her own crying.

“Please tell me I’m not Katee, Masha, please,” she begged.

“Karine, calm down. You’re going to—”

It was already too late. Karine knew what Masha was trying to warn—sensed it coming on, though she’d only experienced a handful of seizures in her lifetime. Sticky drool fell down the sides of her mouth, as she lost control of all her muscles and the violent spasms started.

Still, she managed to say, “Tell me I’m not.”

“But you are, my dear,” Masha said in a soft whisper.

Masha looked her straight in the face though Karine’s vision had started to blacken at the edges. There was no mistaking the truth in her caretaker’s words—or her eyes.

“You are.”

TWENTY

“What?”

Roman might have had a second thought about the way he answered the door to his place at the sight of a Yazov vor standing on the other wise. Except he really didn’t.

And then the man had to go and shove an envelope his way. The guy didn’t move, making it clear just with his presence alone that he wouldn’t until Roman opened it. So, he did.

The pearl-white invitation, designed on soft-to-the-touch cardstock with gold foil lettering, was for Karine and Dima’s wedding. Only a mere week and some days away.

“Fuck.”

The curse came under his breath, too low for the man standing in the hallway of his loft apartment to notice. But not Marky on the phone—Roman had his cellphone pressed between his ear and shoulder, trying to multitask as usual.