It was him.
“What the hell, Demyon?!” A faint scowl flashed across my face.
I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone here at this time of night—especially him—hence the reason I was scared half to death.
He stared at me for a moment, then said, his voice smooth and calm, “You live in a fortress. Why are you afraid?”
I locked my jaw, closing the door behind me with the back of my leg. “I’m not afraid.”
His brows knitted together. “Right.”
“Really, I’m not.”
“Then what was that about?” He was referring to how I’d nearly jumped out of my skin.
“It’s called shock,” I answered, stepping closer. “I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone in here.”
He paused, his expression blank. “Yeah. Anything to make yourself feel better.”
My eyes darted to the bottle of whiskey standing tall on a stool beside him and the half-empty glass in his hand.
“What’re you doing in here anyway?” I asked, settling into the couch across from him. “Drinking away your sorrow?”
He looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Sorrows are for the weak.”
I rolled my eyes. “Spare me the lecture.” The couch creaked beneath my weight as I leaned back. “I know you’re not as hard as you want people to believe you are.”
He arched his brows. “Really?”
“Really,” I answered, letting the words settle before adding, “I saw your photo album back in St. Petersburg.”
His expression didn’t shift even though I thought he was going to frown at me for snooping around his family’s house.
I continued, “I saw that innocent little boy with a charming smile, and he wasn’t a monster.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, that boy is dead.” Demyon picked up his glass and took a sip.
I watched him in silence, catching a glimpse of the crack in his armor. “I know it’s none of my business, but…what happened to you?” I asked, my voice low and even.
“I grew up,” he replied, meeting my gaze. “Not inyourworld. In mine—one filled with violence and chaos….”
My expression softened as I listened to him.
He continued, “…one where I watched my mother die at the hands of my father’s enemy. One bullet to the heart.”
My eyes widened in horror, my pulse racing like a galloping horse.
“I grew up…” he added, his voice as flat as the expression on his face, “…in a world where circumstances forced me to take a life at fourteen. A world where emotions were considered weaknesses and weaknesses got you killed.”
I swallowed hard against the dryness in my throat.
He drained the drink and set the glass on the side stool. “Monsters aren’t born, Eva. They’re made.”
Those words cut through my heart like a knife, especially because I couldn’t find the lie in his statement.
Demyon rose to his feet and cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you alone now.”
No, please, don’t go!I screamed in my mind, but I lacked the audacity to say it out loud.
