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A lightning bolt of unease strikes me out of nowhere. Oh, fuck.
She doesn’t know about her mother.
I should tell her immediately, but as I open my mouth to do it, I change my mind. Why not give her a few more hours of blissful ignorance? She’s been through a lot. And when the time does come, why should I be the one to tell her?
“You will get Dad back, won’t you?” she presses. “They’re not going to hurt him, especially now that you have Benedict?”
“Gregor isn’t really known for reining in his worst instincts,” I murmur. It’s only when I see the look of horror on Celine’s face that I realize I’m saying too much. “He’s not going to risk his brother’s life, though. Don’t worry.”
She sighs. “All I do is worry.”
It’s hard to look at her and see a person. I see those tears and I can imagine what it feels like to be the one crying them, but at the same time, she’s not a person to me. I can’t afford to let her be that.
She is a pawn. She is part of a plan. She is Taylor’s sister.
All good reasons to keep my distance.
“Let’s get you home,” I tell her wearily. “Mila and Taylor will be waiting for us.”
“Taylor’s living with you?”
I make a mental note to have a meeting with my dear sister once I confirm she is not, in fact, limping on one foot. We need to coordinate lies. “Taylor has been living at the Diamond until Zakharov House is rebuilt. I didn’t think it would be safe for her to go back to her apartment.”
Celine smiles shyly. “I’m glad. Tay can be stubborn sometimes. I’m happy you managed to convince her to stay where it’s safe.”
I snort as I guide her to the exit. “I didn’t convince her to do anything. I didn’t really ask, to be honest.”
Celine frowns. “I’m beginning to realize why she seems to hate you so much.”
I bite back another sigh.If only that were true.
47
ILARION
When we get back downstairs, I see that Dima has loaded the restrained Benedict into the back of one of the armored trucks. He’s surrounded on all sides by thousands of pounds’ worth of loyal Zakharov soldiers.
“Don’t let him out of your sight,” I order Dima.
“No chance of that,” he assures me. “Where are we taking him?”
“Zakharov House. We can keep him confined to the cellars until I decide on the next move. We’ll drive with you until the interstate and split up there.”
The rest of the truck caravan is waiting, engines purring, for us to board and depart. At the lead vehicle, Mila and Taylor stand shoulder by shoulder.
I do a double-take when I see them. Taylor is dressed much like my sister, in dark jeans and a dark tank top that shows off her toned arms. Blood, grime, and sweat mingle on her tanned skin and capture the light until it looks like she’s glowing. But what catches my eye the most is the resolute set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes, the grace in her stance.
She doesn’t look like a fish out of water. Not the way that Celine does.
She looks like…
Like she belongs.
I tear my gaze from Taylor and focus on my sister instead. Mila gives me a guilty smile and starts sauntering towards me. “Celine,” I say. “Why don’t you get in? I’ll only be a minute.”
She doesn’t question me; she just nods and gets into the backseat of one of the cars. I shut the door and turn to Mila, whose feet look relatively intact.
“This explanation better be good,” I snarl.
