“No?”
“No. You can just kill them, Yulian. Throw away the trash, do a house cleanup. We need that anyway when changing leadership.”
I smile. “I like the way you think.”
“Everyone does.” His lips twitch a bit, then he removes the duct tape from Dad’s mouth. “Any last words, Yaroslav?”
He spits blood on the ground at Lukas’s feet. “No one will accept the son of a whore and a faggot.”
Lukas snarls, but he smooths it into an evil smile. “Guess you won’t be around to see your legacy taken over by us.”
“You know.” I walk toward my father, pulling out my gun. “I used to think being beaten by you on the regular wasmyfault. That I was doing something wrong by just existing and being a disappointment to you. So I wanted to prove myself. I bled more, trained harder, broke my bones over and over, hoping you’d look at me as a son instead of a mistake. But you never did, and somewhere along the way, I stopped caring. And now, I realize it’s not me, it’syou. It’s always been you and your closed-up thinking and lack of paternal care. You fathered four children but were never afather, and I believe it’s time to end the nightmare for all of us.” I lift the gun, my hand surprisingly steady. “Goodbye, Yaroslav.”
And then I pull the trigger.
The bullet sinks into his forehead, the crack reverberating through the dungeon and rattling my ears.
I wait for anguish. Regret. Guilt. Instead, there’s nothing but relief.
The burden I’ve carried for years peels away as his dead eyes glaze into the void.
I’m finally…free.
38
VAUGHN
I’m losing my mind.
My thoughts.
My control.
They all seem to have disappeared the moment I read Yulian’s letter.
Heabandonedme.
Those are the words that keep playing at the back of my mind—that Yulian left me, that Ilosthim to someone else.
I’ve had those same fleeting thoughts about him over the years, mostly around the anniversary of the time we spent in the cave. Or sometimes, when I was lying in bed awake beside Danika, just scrolling through the images he posted on social media. I imagined what it’d feel like if I heard Yulian was engaged or was getting married.
The thought of him walking down the aisle with someone else always left me in a sour mood.
But that was before I met him again,touchedhim again, had him so far under my skin and inside me—literally and figuratively—that I haven’t been able to breathe properly.
Ever since I read that letter, I feel like a fireball has been sitting on my chest, suffocating me.
If he says his vows to someone else, I won’t just lose him, I’ll lose myself, too.
I tap my fingers on the phone as the car rolls through the streets of Chicago.
“Go faster,” I tell the driver, my heart caught in my throat.
Since my uncles gave Yulian their private jet, I had to fly commercial to Moscow, where Uncle Anton’s second private jet picked me up.
He gave me clear orders not to step into Chicago on my own and that we should meet up in New York and regroup.
But Ican’tdo that.
