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EMERY
When Adrik said we were going to a “cabin,” I imagined a small wooden shack in the woods. I pictured dusty rugs on the floors, drafty windows, and an outhouse.
Okay, maybe not an outhouse.
But still, I didn’t imagine… this.
“There’s a jacuzzi tub,” I gush, stepping out of the main bedroom and back into the hallway. I point up at the ceiling. “And vaulted ceilings. And chandeliers. That’s chandeliers, plural. As in multiple chandeliers.”
“I’m aware of how plurals work. Are you going to inventory the entire house?” Adrik is lounging on an L-shaped sofa in the sunken living room. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows span the wall behind him, showcasing the breathtaking scenery we just trudged through all morning. It looks a lot more beautiful when I’m not sweating my ass off and fending off ticks and spiders and God-knows-what-else I felt crawling on me on the way here.
“You don’t understand—this isn’t reality,” I say. “I can’t believe you don’t live here all the time. This place is incredible.”
“Incredible, unless you like reliable WiFi and cell signal.”
“You can’t just fork over some cash and have that kind of thing taken care of?”
“I could, but…” He shrugs. “It’s a nice escape. I like being away from everyone.”
“I can see why. It’s nice here. Peaceful.”
I can hear Isabella laughing at the back of the house. She and Travis picked their bedroom quickly, and she hasn’t come out for half an hour. When we do finally get back to our normal lives, I’m worried she’s going to have a hard adjustment.
But for now, it’s nice to enjoy the fantasy that we’re a normal family on a normal vacation. Simply enjoying some solitude.
Well, as normal as staying in a camouflaged mansion in the woods can possibly be.
Suddenly, the sliding glass door across the room opens. I yelp in surprise, but Adrik doesn’t even flinch.
A burly man with a thick beard, worn jeans, and a flannel shirt comes tromping into the kitchen. He lifts his hand in a brusque greeting. “I wasn’t expecting you today, sir.”
“No one was,” Adrik says. “I’d like to keep it that way, too.”
The man nods, completely stone-faced. “Understood. Need anything from me?”
“Lunch,” Adrik says. “And before you head into town next, I have messages I’d like you to pass along. Same as usual, though. No one can know where I am.”
“Can do.”
The man looks and sounds gruff, but he sets to following Adrik’s orders as efficiently as any of the maids back at the mansion. I always assumed the maids were so efficient because they were sleeping with him, but I doubt that’s why this man is so motivated to please Adrik.
“Who is that?” I whisper.
“Sasha,” Adrik says.
I wait for him to explain, but he doesn’t. Frustrating man.
“And who is Sasha?” I ask.
“The groundskeeper.”
“You have a groundskeeper?”
“Yeah.” He tilts his head at the lumberjack. “Sasha.”
I elbow him in the side. “Do you annoy me on purpose or is this just how you are?”
He sighs. “Sasha is the groundskeeper. He lives on the property and maintains the house throughout the year.”
“And you trust him?” I ask quietly.
“Obviously,” Adrik scowls. “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t. Sasha wanted to live off the grid. He doesn’t have family, and I basically pay him to hunt and fish year-round. He’s loyal to me. So yes, I trust him.”
The groundskeeper stomps down the hall into what I would guess is the kitchen. I haven’t seen enough of the house to know for certain where everything is yet.
“So you trust me?” I ask.
Adrik turns to me. He’s silent, his eyes assessing me.
“Because if you do, then I’d like to know your plan,” I continue, laying the truth bare. “I want to know what to expect.”
“And I want you to trust that I know what I’m doing.”
“I do…” I sigh and correct myself. “I want to, at least. And I’ll go along with whatever plan you put in place. But I have Isabella to think about. I need to know what’s coming so I can protect her.”
Adrik’s eyes narrow. “I can do that part just fine.”
“We can do it better together.”
He rolls his lips together, thinking. Then he turns to me. “I’m going to have my father fake his death.”
I frown. “Uh… okay. Setting aside all the weird Shakespearean implications of that, how is that going to help?”
“Our mother died when I was young. Yasha was young. Young enough that, later, he couldn’t remember the funeral. It ate him up, that he couldn’t recall saying goodbye to her.”
“Oh.” I wrinkle my nose. “That almost makes me feel bad for him.”
Adrik ignores my comment. “Point being, he won’t miss the chance to say goodbye to our father.”
I shudder. It’s like sticking a finger in a wound. But I can’t deny that it makes a certain amount of sense.
“Moving on then,” I say, “although please rest assured that I have many, many more questions. How are you going to stage your father’s death?”
“I’ll have to get him on board with the plan first.”
“And you think he’ll go along with a plan to have his youngest son killed?” I bleat in dismay.
Adrik sits up taller, his posture almost regal. In another life, he could be royalty, of the full crown and cape variety. It’s in his bone structure, his bearing. Hell, it’s in his breathing and the way his hands rest in his lap, if those are things that can be royal in nature.
“He understands the laws we abide by better than anyone. Betrayal has to be answered in kind. Simple as that.”
Goosebumps blossom down my arms. I’d hate to be standing across from Adrik in a battle. The man is unholy levels of terrifying.
“So you’ll lure Yasha to the fake funeral… and then what?”
“Then I handle it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer you’re going to get.”
I want to press the issue, but I hear Isabella wheeling down the hallway. She hesitates in front of the steps down to the living room.
"I'll get a ramp put in there," Adrik tells her. "That way you can move around freely."
She smiles. "Okay. But I'm hungry."
"Sasha is making us lunch."
"Who is Sasha?" She spins her chair, looking around the room.
