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Prologue
MIA
My chest heaved as I laid next to my dear husband. He was the devil reincarnated but what could I expect from the made men in this godforsaken city? They all took sadistic pleasure in the pain of those around them; wives were no different.
He was nothing but a nightmare that I wanted to be rid of. A sore that I wanted gone. But there was no way I could do that without setting his hounds on me. They saw me as nothing but a stupid, chubby girl who was there to fulfill her family’s deal with the devil. They would never help me. They owed me no loyalty, only the man who slept next to me.
There was no one to help me out of this hellish place. My brother was useless. He was the one who sold me to these savages in the first place. He said it was to bring unity to both families but that was his way of sugarcoating how he sold my virginity; my purity to help our family grow powerful, to become more respected.
Sodabrab was run by five families:
The Callahans; the Banrovs; the Dagons; the Quinns and the most formidable of them all, the Galdur Family. They dominated everything and everyone in the country.
That is what my family wanted to be and they gave me away to do it.
My hand clenched the knife at my side as I watched my husband’s chest slowly rise and fall.
My teeth clattered. I didn’t know if it was from the coldness of the room or the nerves commanding me to stay still before I did something I would regret.
“Ilya,” I whispered, ensuring he was asleep. My husband was older than me but he was the epitome of health and strength at his 42 years.
If he woke up he could easily overpower me and God knows what he would do to me afterward.
The raised skin on my back started to tingle as I thought about the punishments I received when I didn’t behave correctly. The soreness between my legs still reminding me of how roughly he subjected me to what he deemed pleasure.
My mouth curled as the fury in my chest overcame my nerves.
I could not live like this any longer. I didn’t deserve this. I was a good daughter, a good sister and a good friend.
I silently eased from the bed, my feet greeting the cold floor as I tiptoed to his side. His head was twisted to face the ceiling-to-floor windows, perfectly showing the pulse in his neck.
I needed to be swift, quick. If I didn’t that would be the end of me, wife or not. You could not attempt to kill the head of the Banrovs and get away with it.
But I had it all planned. When I killed him, I would pretend that there was an intruder- he had enough enemies that it wasn't a farfetched truth. I would act like the sullen, mourning wife because my life depended on it. It was surprising he even lived this long. I just had to sell it.
My hands trembled, my breath hollow as I raised the knife ready to stake it into my husband’s neck, as he slept so peacefully, not like the tyrant he was.
Could I kill a man in cold blood? Could I live with the guilt?
I didn’t have time to answer because my hand was soon gripped by the wrist and I was thrown to the floor. The knife flew across the room, the moonlight shining against it reminding me of my failure to lodge it into Ilya's throat.
“You fat bitch,” Ilya shouted, his monstrous body standing over me. My eyes darted between my husband and the knife, trying to crawl away from him.
“Where do you think you’re going? Huh? If you think it was worse before, you have no idea the hell I have waiting for you after tonight,” he said so sickly with a grin plastered to his face.
My heart raced in my chest as my mind shouted, “Run! Run!”
Turning as fast as I could on hands and knees, I crawled to the knife taunting me, just under the drapes.
I didn’t get far on my stubby legs because soon Ilya had his hand tangled in my hair, pulling the strands from the root, forcing me to stand and face him. My eyes watered at the pressure as my hands tried to ease the pain.
“I thought you were done with your tricks but seems I have to break you in more,” he said, closing his fist before knocking me to the floor once more.
The taste of iron in my mouth confirmed that he drew blood.
“Please, Ilya. Please I won’t do it anymore. I-I---I’ll behave. I promise,” I pleaded, my salty tears running uncontrollably down my face.
He laughed. It wasn’t one of amusement. But one that promised a deviant future.
