A cold, merciless dread seeps into my bones.
My wife.
Something’s wrong with my wife, and I’m not there to help her.
I turn to walk away, completely disregarding whatever bullshit I was dealing with. Up above me, the sun pales, no longer burning my skin. A subtle wind flickers through the thorny leaves of the invasive plants lining the sidewalk. The shrieking of birds echoes distantly in my ears, the moving cars in my periphery whooshing by like time flashing before my eyes. My mind goes back to the nights of my childhood at the Alemont estate. Because this feeling…this helplessness…I’ve only ever felt it once in my life.
I couldn’t save my brother when he needed me, and it turned me into a monster who couldn’t say I love you to the woman who offered me her heart. All these years later, I’m in the same mental space, repeating history and on the verge of starting another war with myself. A bitter taste coats my tongue, and I clench every fucking muscle in my body as I move forward. I need to get to her. I never should have left in the first place.
“One more thing,” Remus says behind me, reminding me he’s here.
I don’t stop. He can do whatever the fuck he wants—I couldn’t care less. All I want is to be able to close my eyes and teleport back home, next to my wife. But I can’t. I fuckingcan’t, because I left her, even if she begged me not to go.
A shot rings out, and it throws my shoulder forward. The pain registers within seconds.
I press my hand to the wound, continuing to move forward. Blood sticks to my fingers, warm and sticky, as guttural sounds leave my chest.
I need a fucking jet. And a car.
And I need them now.
“When you make it back to yourPakhan, I want you to tell him exactly who I am,” Remus’ voice carries over to me. “I may have helped you this one time, but I won’t have you fuckers get the wrong idea about how the Cosa Nostra will be run. There will be blood. Best remember that.”
I keep walking, dragging my bleeding flesh along this stupid fucking sidewalk.
Cecilia.
Her name rings out in my head a million times, pulling my body forward.
I don’t get to die.
I don’t get to shut down. Not this time.
My wife needs me, and even though I’ve forgotten how to function, I still press that earpiece and bark my command.
38
Cecilia
There’s nothing in my head but screaming.
The door to my bedroom slams open. Victoria and Svetlana carry me in as best they can as I empty out on the floor again. Only acid comes out. I’m already so empty, a shell of who I was just minutes ago.
“Bring my husband! I’ll call Mikhail. Go!” Victoria orders, her shaking arms coiling around me. Her weight is on my back, working to ground me, to contain the hell unleashing on my body. But she can’t. No one can.
I’m a monster. A killer. A psychopath.
“S-s-stay a-away,” I cry out, pushing her off me with all my strength. But even when she’s thrown back, Victoria returns, never letting go of me for more than a second. My friend’s loving arms should feel like a blanket, soothing and warm, but right now, they feel heavy, like the burden of my sin coiling tight around me. My knees give out at the threshold of the room. I fallto the floor, curling into myself, my hands clawing at my chest, needing air.
“Oh, God! Oh, God, Cecilia. I’m here,” Victoria whispers, sobbing against me.
“Leave!” I snap at her, pushing her hands off me. “Get out. Get.Out!”
I stand on wobbly feet, walking backward to put some space between us. I wish I didn’t have eyes to see the hurt swimming in her gaze. But when she brings her trembling hand to her mouth, I see the now-chipped manicure on one of her nails, and then the smudged mascara on her skin, and I know I’ve hurt another person I love. Because this is who I am now—who I’ve always been—and if I don’t drive her away, I’m putting her in a lot more danger.
My friend scrambles to her feet, her eyes flickering with conflicted emotion.
Yes. She should be afraid. She should get the hell away from this killer.
