Which I was.
God, I was so fucked.
***
I waited until Marcus and his team had left the command room before pulling out my phone with trembling fingers.
Me:Don’t come to my room anymore. They know about the loops. The recordings are no longer safe.
I hit send before I could second-guess myself. Sebastian would be furious, but I didn’t care. Let him be furious. Let him threaten and scream and wave that goddamn video around. At least he couldn’t sneak into my room anymore. At least I’d have that small mercy.
The phone buzzed almost immediately.
Sebastian:You stupid bitch. You think you can just cut me off? You think I won’t find another way?
My hands shook as I typed back.
Me:I’m trying to keep us both from getting caught. The Bratva installed the system next door. They KNOW.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Finally:
Sebastian:Fine. But you still owe me. And I always collect.
I threw the phone onto my bed like it burned, wrapping my arms around myself. My reflection in the mirror caught my eye, pale skin, tangled hair, shadows under my eyes that no amount of concealer could hide. I looked haunted. Looked like exactly what I was.
A prisoner in my own life.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway made me freeze.
Not the heavy tread of security. Not the soft shuffle of housekeeping. These were deliberate. Angry. Moving with purpose.
My bedroom door burst open, and Kirill filled the frame.
He’d come back. Or he never really left.
He looked like violence barely contained. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping. His eyes blazed with fury and something darker, something that made my stomach drop and my pulse spike. He shut the door behind him with a control that was somehow more terrifying than if he’d slammed it.
Then he moved.
Three long strides, and I was backed against the wall, his hands bracketing my head, caging me in. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating off him, could see the way his chest rose and fell with barely controlled breathing.
“Why?” The word came out as a growl. “Why did you sleep with me if you already had a boyfriend?”
My mouth went dry. “I don’t—”
“Don’t.” He leaned in closer, his nose almost touching mine. “Don’t fucking lie to me again, Barbara. I saw his name on your screen. Bass. Heard the way he talked to you. The way you shook just answering his call.”
Shame burned through me because I couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t explain about Sebastian or about the video, about the nightmare I’d been living for five years. How could I? The moment I opened my mouth, it would all come spilling out—the fact that I was so monumentally fucked up that I’d let my own brother destroy my life.
“It’s complicated,” I managed, hating how weak I sounded.
His laugh was sharp, bitter. “Complicated. That’s your explanation?”
“What do you want me to say?” My voice rose, matching his anger. “That I made a mistake? Fine. I made a mistake. Last night was a mistake. This”—I gestured between us—“was a mistake.”
“Bullshit.” He was so close now I could see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes, could count his eyelashes if I wanted to. “You don’t kiss someone like that if it’s a mistake. You don’t come apart in their hands and scream their name if it’s a fucking mistake.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. My body. Everywhere. Because he was right, and we both knew it.
