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It was an odd tactic, but I recognized it as such.
“Next, we have Sasha.” He placed another card down. It was a man, a king, sitting on his throne. He had on a crimson regal robe, wore a heavy crown atop his head, and appeared solemn. “The Emperor. The big gun. Authority. Structure. A little damaged but still aware of his pull.”
I felt it coming, but the anticipation of the card he would draw next had me straightening.
“Then there’s you.” Roam didn’t even look at the card as he placed it down. But my gaze was stuck on it, and my jaw clenched. “The Fool.”
The man was a bard of some sort, wearing a floral-patterned tunic. He held a single white flower in his hands, and his companion, a little white dog.
He was mocking me.
I gripped the glass so hard I thought it might shatter.
His expression darkened. “Fairly self-explanatory, isn’t it?” He looked down at the card and shook his head. “Irresponsible. Rash. Reckless. The sidekick. Always the bridesmaid type. Born to follow, never to lead.” That dark gaze unwavering, he muttered, “You’d make a really good fall guy.”
Anger pulsed in my temples.
Jesus Christ. Get a grip. Do not show him what he’s doing to you.
“It’s funny,” Roam uttered, placing the deck down on the table before resting his sweeping gaze over the three upturned cards. “You think you’re above us, but all I see is—” His eyes came to rest on me, and an eerie, slow smile spread his lips. “—the reckless, the damaged, and the mad.” He leaned back and took me in. “Turns out we’re not so different after all.”
We were. I wasn’t like him. I would never be like him.
I would not let him get to me. I wouldn’t. I was done.
We were finished.
The void of his gaze rested on me until it bordered uncomfortable. With a deep inhale, he unexpectedly dismissed me without a fight. “I got shit to do.”
My brow lowered marginally, but I wanted to get the hell out of there, so I stood and turned to leave.
His eyes never left me. “See you around, Viktor.”
“Yeah,” I told him as I opened the door and walked out.
Not likely, asshole.
30
Nastasia
It was a little after one when we returned from the mall. Midconversation, I opened the door and walked into my house with Anika trailing me. My heart warmed at her easy smile, and I found comfort for the first time in months, knowing that whatever she was going through, she appeared to be stronger than her demons. Ever since she found out about the baby a week ago, she seemed happier. And although it wasn’t deliberate, I was overjoyed to give her something to distract her from her tumultuous mind.
“What do you think it is?” she asked sunnily, smiling from ear to ear as we walked the hall with our shopping bags in tow. “I know it’s not anywhere near accurate, but you hear of women just knowing. Do you”—she inserted air quotes—“‘know’? In your mind, when you picture it, what do you see?”
It was bizarre. A week ago, I was thinking about whether or not to buy a Roomba. Now, I was carrying a bag that held a squatty potty, because I’d seen the pictures. Vik was a fat baby with a fat head. So, you know… priorities.
But, amongst all the weird, the strange, and the confusing, I was grateful to have someone to talk to about it. Sharing it with Anika made it all the better. Our distant connection had been bridged by this little bean growing in my belly.
With every second, every hour, I grew more and more in love. I couldn’t wait to meet him. Or her.
“I don’t know. I see both. It changes from thought to thought,” I disclosed as we started for the kitchen. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I think. Dr. Henley said we can book in for genetic testing at fourteen weeks.” I smiled back at her delighted face before turning back around. “We’ll know soon en—”
My feet came to a halt, and my heart plummeted the moment my eyes came to rest on the intruders standing in my home. Anika slammed into my back, and I stumbled forward a step. White noise buzzed at a pitch high enough to make my ears bleed, but no one else seemed to hear it.
Oh shit.
My eyes widened at the sight of the two men standing with their backs to each entrance, the skulls painted onto their faces textured and cracked. They stood tall, unwavering, and one of them looked me over slowly, watchfully, in a way that gave me shivers.
I recognized them immediately from the night at the club but still had no idea who they were.
No one spoke a word. I was fairly sure I stopped breathing. And after a moment, my gaze was drawn to the man in the charcoal-gray tailored suit going through my cupboards.
