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I stand up and frown at the page in my hands like it might bite me. Sparks dance in my gut and float into my chest, where they die. There’s no kindling left for this fire, my dreams having been left in that kitchen with my emotionless brother in that shitty apartment.
Though the park is alive with activity, people give me a wide berth. And it’s no wonder. I have four armed guards with me at any given time. One of them observes me—Gennadiy, I think is his name—and raises his eyebrows as if to ask if I’m okay. He’s just doing his job as Pavel ordered. I nod and turn back to the letter.
Congratulations!
That exclamation point irks me. No reason for excitement now. The edges of the page wrinkle under my grip.
Thick branches sway above my head, immaculate trees casting shadows in my path. That always seems to be what happens with me: the way ahead darkens as though I’m not supposed to see what comes next.
Yeah, that’s life, but why does it have to bemylife?
I fold the letter, tucking it gently into my back pocket, where it’s been sitting since I left the penthouse. I tried calling Jonas, but it kept ringing to voice mail. And then, it went directly to voice mail after that. Either his phone is dead, or he’s ignoring me.
I chaff my arm.Did Pavel do something? Did he issue another threat?
My stomach flips at the thought of Jonas getting picked apart by fish at the bottom of the Hudson. Or worse, rotting somewhere in the heart of the penthouse. The basement is sealed off, and I’m not allowed to go down there. I can only imagine what horrors might be lurking under my feet.
I rub my cheek while my eyes gloss over the gorgeous flowers, the vibrant green plants, the lively trees—nothing feels real.
One of the benches lining the path sits next to a large fern. I slump onto it, pulling out my phone to text Willow. I don’t want to tell her what I’m thinking, not yet. And I don’t think I even want to say it out loud either.
Would Pavel tell me if he did something to my brother?
Nope, shove that down. Don’t let it break the surface. It’ll just hurt more if it’s true.
“Are you doing anything later this week?” I text Willow. “I could use bestie time.”
A few minutes pass without her response. Jesus, is she ignoring me too? Or maybe she got tired of me bitching about Pavel. I do that a lot.
My phone buzzes. “Sorry, girl. I’m being worked like a dog at Dad’s real estate place.”
My heart sinks. “Oh, I get it.”
“But we can go to brunch later this weekend! Just the two of us. Your girl needs mimosas, stat.”
I smile while typing, “Bottomless mimosas at Momo’s?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
I’m about to hammer out the details when the screen changes.
Incoming call: Jonas.
I answer immediately. “Jonas, where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you. I’ve tried to call you and—”
“Save the crocodile tears, bitch,” he spits. My shoulders instinctively curl together as I slouch toward my knees. “You don’t give a shit. You stood by while your husband threatened to hurl me into afternoon traffic from the top of your fucking castle.”
“I—I don’t understand—”
He growls. “Youneverunderstand, Liya. You always say that, but it’s all a front. You know exactly what you’re doing.”
Livid—it’s all I can feel. The sensation unfurls and overwhelms every inch of me, the shadow from the tree above giving me no reprieve from the heat.
You’re the one who sold me to Pavel. I clutch my knee, nails burrowing into my skin.You’re the one who watched me get fucked on our kitchen table without so much as lifting a damn finger.
It’s right on the tip of my tongue, stinging my lips like hot sauce. I could say it. Iwantto say it.
But I don’t.
