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My gaze met his, and I saw nothing but danger there. It made me still for a moment. Before he was able to catch on to my slip-up, I threw a fake smile on my face. A look I’d mastered over the years.
“Sure, what is it?”
“Not here.” He looked around. “Too many people. Come with me.”
He didn’t give me a chance to reject him. His hand was on my wrist, and although the sentiment wasn’t rough, I knew that things were about to become truly fucked up. I felt a lot more at ease knowing I had a gun in my pocket.
I didn’t question where we were going—I just followed him in silence. Realization hit me once we started up the stairs towards the rooftop. Usually, it was used for summer parties. It had a big pool and one of the best views in the city.
The moment a cold breeze hit my face and my eyes scanned the area, I laughed to myself. His men were all waiting for us. Each had a gun, and each gun was pointed directly towards my head.
Viktor swiftly moved to stand in front of them, putting space between us. He was obviously afraid I had something up my sleeve.
“Seriously, Viktor?” A low sigh came from me. “Hiding behind these goons?”
He wasn’t amused; nor was he wasting any time. “Get on your knees, Ekaterina.”
“Oh, executioner style? How outdated.”
Viktor snapped his fingers, and every single person took their safety off. I felt a gun pressed to the back of my head. My eyes closed for a brief moment, a the sharp breath I took didn’t help soothe my nerves. I wasn’t afraid by any means—I was merely irritated by the dramatics.
“Get on your fucking knees, Ekaterina,” he gritted out.
Slowly, I got on my knees. In my head, I came up with eight creative ways to end his life just because I’d ruined a very expensive and extremely beautiful dress. And all because my brother was pissy.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s hear it. Why am I getting killed tonight?”
Viktor laughed. He was slowly walking towards me now, lowering himself to my eye level. “So many reasons that I don’t have time to get into.” He paused for a moment and made eye contact with the man whose gun was pressed to the back of my head. “I can give you one though.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Our mom. You killed her—slowly. She never saw it coming and you? Not once did you feel remorse.”
“I’m incapable of that.”
“I’m aware.” His response was quick. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be held responsible for your actions.”
I blinked. “You’re acting as if I did it because I was bored and had no reason.”
“Oh please.” He was growing angrier by the minute. “You had to put up with Father’s methods, which I agree were extreme, but she never did anything.”
My anger couldn’t be held back.
“Never did anything?” I repeated, disbelief lacing my words. “I didn’t blame her for Bogdan’s actions, but when she had the chance to do anything, to speak up, she turned her head the other way. I was just a child, yet I was chained, isolated from the world, and beaten whenever I so much as smiled.”
I had been creative in my mother’s murder. She’d been ill previously, for years, and it had left her immune system weak. She’d cherished her roses more than anything, but she’d had various other plants too—some of which were toxic in the right quantities. Chemistry had always been a strong subject of mine, and I’d extracted their poison and put it in her tea, twice a day until she’d died.
“We all had difficult childhoods, Ekaterina. Dominik was struck with metal whips for standing up for you, Aleksei was thrown into a room of ten armed men and came out alive, despite being the only one without a weapon. And me? I fucking had to prove my worth day after day, because I wasn’t as rough mentally as Dominik, or as perceptive as Aleksei, or fucking intelligent like you.”
“Sucks to suck, I guess.” I shrugged. “None of that changes the fact that our mother deserved to die.”
His fist unexpectedly closed around my hair. He pulled it back, and I yelled in agony. His face was too close to mine.
“Who the fuck are you to decide who dies and who lives?” he yelled, eyes full of rage.
“I’m divinity,” I simply responded, eyes locked behind him, “and that is my cultist.”
Davorin emerged from the shadows, ending a man’s life with each step he took. It was all crystal clear to me—the yearning to bathe in blood, the immense need to kill for each other made me love him.
