But he still doesn’t have a thing to say to me.
“I don’t know if that’s true,” I rush on. “I don’t want to believe it, but you should… you should look into it.” My fingers twist into the cashmere of my sweater. “Regardless of how you might feel about me now, just… be careful. Please.”
There. I’ve said it. My story, my truth. All laid out on the table.
But Petyr still isn’t speaking.
“Say something,” I whisper. “Please.”
And finally, he does.
Only, it’s not words.
It’s laughter.
Petyr’s humorless chuckle leaves me frozen in the middle of the room. I’ve never heard him laugh this way. His laughter is a rare, precious thing. Granted, it can be a bit on the sarcastic side sometimes, but it’s never like this. Never socruel.
“What’s so funny?” I find myself asking.
But Petyr simply shakes his head, like this is all a bad comedy movie. A shitty joke of the universe. “I wondered how long it would take. For you to admit what you are.”
His choice of words makes my skin crawl. Not “who”—“what”.Like I’m a thing instead of a person.
“Not surprised it’s today,” he adds, jaded, eyes narrow with something that looks too much like contempt. “After your attack on my brother failed so spectacularly. What’s this, Plan B? Damage control while you wait to stab me in the back again?”
Confusion tangles with panic. My lips part before I can stop them. “Your… brother?” I whisper. “What—what happened to Dimitri?”
His head snaps towards me. “Quit the fucking act, Sima. I’m not an idiot.”
I stumble back a step. The rejection stings worse than a slap. “I… I never said you were.” My chest tightens until I can barely breathe. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with Dimitri?”
What do you think I did to him?!
Something must have happened while Petyr was out. Something bad. God, what if Dimitri’s dead?
But what’s that got to do with me if he is?
It’s an ugly, selfish thought, but it darts through my head anyway. Because it’s clear that Petyr isn’t just lashing out at random—he’s lashing out atme.
And for once, I have no clue what I’ve done.
I’ve told him all my secrets. Come clean about my worst fears, my darkest part.
And yet, he’s staring at me with pure disgust. LikeI’mthe enemy.
“Don’t act like you don’t know.” His gaze is merciless as it sweeps over me. “Tell me, what exactly does your assassinhave on you? How bad can it be, if you’re admitting your real name to me now, after all this time, rather than have me find out from him?”
“Assassin?” I echo dumbly. “What are you?—”
“STOP LYING!”
Petyr’s fist hits the wall. A booming noise, and the drywall caves in.
I start shaking. For the first time in weeks, I’m afraid of him.
My throat works, but no words come. Not the right ones, at least, and at this point, I have no idea what those might even be. I search desperately for something, anything that will let me break through to him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whisper, hoarse with fear. “Anatoli wants to kill you. He has Lev under his thumb. That’s what I came to tell you. That’s why I came clean.”
