I cut myself off before I spill too much.
“—while I tried to process that you were gone,” I say instead. “The last time I saw you, you were covered in blood in an alley, and I ran, and I never got to—to—” The sob catches in my throat. I won’t cry. I won’t give him that. “So how dare you? How dare you let me believe that?”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Bullshit! You always have a choice, Bastian. That’s what you taught me, remember? You’re the one who’s always in charge of fucking everything, and you expect me to believe that your hands were just tied? I’ll ask again: How fuckingdareyou?”
I can hear him breathing, slow and measured, like he’s trying to stay calm. It makes me want to scream again.
“I mourned you,” I repeat after another trembling exhale. “I stood in that church and I mourned you, and it was all a lie. Just another lie in a long list of them. I don’t know why I ever expected anything different from you.”
“Eliana, please?—”
“Get out.”
“El—”
“Get out of my apartment. Get out of my life. I can’t—” I press my hand against my mouth, trying to hold back another sob. “I can’t do this again. I won’t.”
But I don’t hear him make any move toward the door.
“Did I fucking stutter?” I hiss. “I told you to get out.”
“No.”
“‘No’? It wasn’t a question, Bastian! Get out! Get! The! Fuck! Out!”
I start battering him with my fists. I connect with his chest, his shoulders, anywhere I can reach. I don’t think I could do serious damage if I tried, though God knows Iamtrying. I’m trying like hell to hurt him so he knows just one percent of how much he’s hurt me.
He doesn’t try to stop me. Doesn’t grab my wrists or step back or defend himself at all. He just stands there and takes it, absorbing every hit like he’s been waiting for this.
“I hate you,” I sob between strikes. “I hate you, I hate you, Ihateyou…”
But soon, my fists slow. My arms grow heavy. The rage burns itself out, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. I sag against him when I’m finally spent, forehead to his chest.
“I deserve that,” he murmurs. “Penance for my sins. But I still can’t leave.”
“Watch me make you,” I spit back.
I reach for where I think the door is, intending to wrench it open and shove him through it if I have to. My hand finds only air, then the wall, then, finally, the doorknob. I yank it open so hard the hinges protest.
“I’m not leaving, Eliana.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because Aleksei has Sage.”
My hand freezes on the doorknob. “… What?”
“My brother. Aleksei, the one I told you about.” Bastian’s voice is still flat, but with every new syllable, it starts to fray at the edges and expose something raw and bleeding underneath. “He has Sage.”
I don’t move. My hand stays where it is, wrapped around the doorknob, more for balance than anything else now.
“He implied that if I didn’t do exactly what he wanted, he’d hurt him,” Bastian continues. “So I did. I did everything. The killing, the hits, the whole fucking show.”
My hand slips off the doorknob.
“The funeral was staged,” he says. “It was my only option to get away from him and buy some time. As far as the world knows, Bastian Hale is dead. Which means I can’t go to the police. I can’t go to anyone. Because if Aleksei finds out I’m still alive and not under his control, Sage is…”
