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Maxim’s still asleep. He’s breathing like a bear in hibernation. His body’s still smothering mine, but I manage to slip away without waking him. I sneak into the adjacent room and get my clothes back on. I don’t bother with the panties. I leave them on the coffee table. They can be my parting gift.
The last bit of me left in the world: a pair of soaked and destroyed panties.
Not exactly the memorial I’d hoped for, but oh, well.
I linger in the doorway. For a killer, he sleeps peacefully. I wonder if he dreams about his victims.
I wonder if my papa will sleep so soundly after he kills me later.
“Goodbye, Maxim. Thank you.” I whisper the words. Once they leave my mouth, they disappear into noting.
Impermanent and unheard. As if they never existed.
Just like me.
I smile and blink back the tears.
I’m afraid, but I turn from Maxim and walk to the door.
It was a good last night on Earth.
Chapter2
Siena
I’m a grown-ass woman and that was the first night I ever spent away from my papa’s house.
Okay, well, mostly grown-ass. I’m twenty-two, which is grown-ass enough that I should’ve spent at least a single night away from my papa’s home.
Except that’s not the kind of family I was raised in.
No, to my father, I’m a precious little flower. My entire world is controlled, from my phone use, to my internet, to my friends. If anything is wrong or displeasing to my papa, it’s removed and thrown away and fixed.
I flag down a cab and slump down in the back. It’s been weird, living off-grid and without a phone. Somewhat freeing, even though all my data’s been monitored since the day I was given my first iPhone way back when I was fifteen. Papa’s top bodyguard, Renato, takes a sick pleasure in reciting all my mundane and stupid Google searches like he needs to remind me that he knows what I look up what those Tibetan mountains are called or a good skincare routine for girls with a pale complexion. Whatever, Renato’s an asshole, and I won’t miss him when I’m dead.
The cab drives through downtown Dallas. The buildings loom like massive glass sentinels and I smell the reek of disinfectant and old body odor drifting from the fabric seats. The driver speaks in a steady stream of Farsi as he rolls along with his window open, allowing the early morning humidity to drift into the cab. I want to tell him to roll it up, but I can’t muster the strength.
Each second I spend in this cab is another second I get closer to my death.
Yesterday morning, my older brother, Enzo, woke me up early. He came into my room and shook me awake. I stared at him as he made a show of taking my phone, a deep frown on his lips.
I knew then and there that I’d been caught and my time was up.
He said nothing when he left. Now, I wish I’d talked to him. Not because I could ever change Enzo’s mind—no, he was much too stubborn and way too loyal to Papa for that—but maybe I could’ve had one last conversation with my brother before he fully understood the depth of my treachery.
I lean my head back and close my eyes. I take deep breaths and think of Maxim’s lips on my neck. I think of his teeth pinching my skin. His tongue lapping my clit. I smile and squirm. God, that night was incredible. Maybe even worth the hell I’ll pay.
The cab pulls into the Lakewood section. It’s one of the few areas in the city with access to the small lake, and the housing plots are surprisingly big. It looks strangely suburban, although technically still in the city. Big, green lawns, and massive houses with Spanish-style architecture line the street. Papa’s property is ringed with a white stone fence with black spikes all along it. The guards say there is crushed glass up top, but that’s not true—I learned that the hard way, by climbing over and praying they weren’t serious.
That’s how I escaped. I snuck out when nobody was paying attention, stumbled along the back yard, through the short bit of wooded area, and got over the fence. Once I was on Lawther and in sight of the lake, it was easy to flag down a passing cab.
Now I took that trip in reverse. This time, I tell the cab to drop me off at the end of the long driveway. A sleepy guard sits beside the gate and frowns at me as I pay with the black card then walk over to him.
“Good morning, Tony,” I say.
Tony glares. He’s young, maybe a year or two older than me. He joined Papa’s family not too long ago and he’s still proving himself.
“Do you know how worried they are in there?” he asks.
