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Isabella sighs again. By some miracle, she’s still asleep, and I’d like to keep it that way.
I push Adrik back into the hall. He still has a gun held loosely in his hand. His shoulders are tight with tension and he keeps glancing back the way Yasha fled.
“What was going on in there?” His voice is accusatory now.
“I have no clue,” I tell him. “You’re telling me you didn’t send Yasha in there?”
“Why would I have sent my brother in to—”
“I don’t know what you have planned!” The frustration and uncertainty I’ve been feeling for the last few days bubbles up all at once. I squeeze my eyes closed and take a deep breath. “I just… I want to know what you have planned for me. Whatever it is— whatever the two of you are going to do to me, just tell me.”
Adrik shakes his head. For the first time, I realize he’s not wearing anything but a pair of tight-fitting boxer briefs. His body is lean and sculpted, and part of me suspects that even this is part of his plan. He wants to distract me, to get me all flustered and out of sorts.
The worst part is that it’s working.
I peel my eyes away from his abs and focus on his face. “What does Yasha want with me?” I ask.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he snarls. “You barely know Yasha. Why would my brother be slipping into your room in the middle of the night? He shouldn’t even know you’re here. I haven’t told anyone. Are you in contact with him?”
“Am I in—Do you really not know?” I ask. “Is it possible that you… that you don’t know?”
“Don’t know what?” he growls.
He’s confused. I can see it written all over his face. Adrik is in the dark and he despises it.
But he really doesn’t know the truth.
“Adrik,” I say, staring up into his eyes, “Yasha is the man who raped me. Yasha is Isabella’s father.”
