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DEMYEN
It’s been… two days? Weeks? Lifetimes?
I don’t even know.
But I’m out of bourbon, so I signal for the bartender to top me off and glare at him when he asks me if I’m doing okay.
Sure, dumbass. I’m doing fucking fantastic. That’s why I’m sitting here in this shithole, doing my best to drown my guilt in shitty liquor.
It’s empty in here. Probably because it’s in the middle of the day, and everyone who didn’t have to explain to a five-year-old where her mother went is out living normal lives.
I thought I was in the clear when Willow didn’t ask questions the morning after the auction. Bambi got her dressed and ready for school, and Pavel took the kid for donuts as an extra bribe to buy me time.
The second she left, I had the household staff move all her things back into the solarium and make it look even better than it wasbefore. New toys, new plants, everything she could want in her little slice of paradise.
It kept her busy when she came back from school. She was too excited to notice that only her things were moved, and to my relief, she didn’t try to go into what used to be Clara’s old room.
Rinse and repeat the next day.
But this morning? No such luck.
This morning, Willow found me making coffee in the kitchen and bluntly asked me where her mommy was. Why Mommy hasn’t come home yet.
Fuck. I still don’t know how to answer that. I made up some half-assed excuse about an emergency and Clara needing to go take care of things for a while, but I kept it vague as hell and I don’t think she bought it. The only reason why she didn’t ask further was because Bambi dashed in and snatched her up for school.
I’ve been sitting in this dive bar ever since. Drinking away all consciousness so I don’t have to face the consequences of my actions for however long a blackout will last.
Whatever issues Clara and I had, there’s no denying that she’s a good mother. A great mother, really.
Did I project my own trauma from having a shitty mother on her? Probably.
Did she deserve it? Probably not.
Selling Clara Everett seemed like such an easy plan in the beginning. Let her serve her sentence at someone’s feet or wherever they wanted her. A life for a life. Hers for Tolya’s.
But I never factored in the consequences of that plan. I never considered who would suffer from her absence. Even though I knew she had a child, I never once figured that what I did with Clara would affect her daughter.
I definitely never counted on growing attached to Willow so… so fuckingeasily.
And now, I get to watch the light fade from her eyes. The sadness settling in. It’s already happening—I saw it dim this morning right before Bambi came in. Willow’s soft little “oh,” the slump of her shoulders, the slow hanging of her head as she held Bambi’s hand and walked away…
It’s more than I’m prepared to deal with.
The guilt that comes with it is even worse.
I signal for the bartender to bring me another bourbon. I’ll buy out his whole damn shelf if I have to. I don’t want to stop guzzling down liquor until my men have to shovel me off the floor and pour me into the car.
I’d rather stare into the abyss than into the heartbroken eyes of a little girl who deserved better.
My phone vibrates on the counter. It takes a few swipes for my clumsy fingers to actually grab it, but I manage. It’s a text from one of my connections inside Raizo’s Yakuza—someone I’ve been buttering up for years. The text is exactly what I did not want confirmed.
International buyer. Left Vegas the same night. No records or names of buyer or destination.
“Hey.” I wave down the bartender. “Gimme a round of Mind Erasers.”
The bartender cocks a brow, but doesn’t argue or ask me if I’m hoping those shots will live up to their name.
I am. I sure fucking am. I need to scrub my brain clean of every memory I have of Clara Everett before I start to grieve her loss.
