I stop at the nightstand.
The silver frame.
I pick it up. My mother smiles back at me.
"I'm doing this for you," I whisper, clutching the cold metal to my chest. "I'm saving the ships, Mom. I'm saving the name."
I zip the bag closed.
When I come back downstairs, Konstantin is waiting by the door. His men have already gone back to the cars. My father is still weeping on the floor.
I walk past him without saying goodbye.
I stop in front of Konstantin.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Let's go."
He opens the door for me.
I step out into the night. The wind whips my hair across my face. The SUVs are waiting, engines idling, white exhaust pluming in the cold air.
I climb into the back of the middle car. The leather is soft. Konstantin slides in beside me.
The door slams shut, sealing us in.
As the convoy pulls away, I don't look back at the house but at the man sitting next to me.
He’s staring straight ahead, his profile sharp and cruel.
He has won.
He has taken the king, the castle, and now... the queen.
I’m Helena Blackwood.
And I sold my soul to the devil to save a ghost.
4
HELENA
The silence inside the SUV is deafening. It’s like the air has been sucked out of the cabin.
We are speeding down the highway, surrounded by a convoy of black steel. We are heading away from the only home I’ve ever known. The city lights blur past the tinted windows.
I assess the man beside me.
Konstantin Morozov is tapping on his phone. The harsh blue light hits his face. It illuminates the sharp, cruel angles of his jaw. The scar on his neck.
He looks like a CEO answering late-night emails, not a man who kidnapped a woman, invaded an estate, and held a gun to my father’s head.
The injustice of it burns in my throat like bile.
My hands are still shaking, resting on the fine leather of the seat.
The car smells like him—a distinct, masculine scent of expensive scotch and a cologne that screams power.
