Gabe killed my father? He betrayed my family?
But Aunt Yelena… but the Dragons…
No, this can’t be right. This can’t be happening.
I can’t be married to my father’s murderer.
A truck comes tearing around the corner. Artyom perks up and barks a command to his men. Two more trucks follow the first. They barrel into the parking lot, brakes screaming, windows rolling down as guns start firing rapidly, scattering my cousin’s men, forcing them to cover.
I drop to the ground and start crawling. Artyom’s screaming and yelling. Guns are going off all over. A man falls beside me, his body hitting hard, blood splattering my hair. I moan, crying hard, whimpering and gasping as I crawl around his corpse, desperately trying to get to safety. Gabe killed my father, he killed my father, he lied to me, he didn’t tell me the full truth, and now I’m seeing him for what he really is, and I’m sick, I’m sick, I want to scream?—
“NIKA!”
His voice cuts through the chaos. I lean my back against a car, tears streaming down my face. Blood drips down my clothes.
Gabe’s in the parking lot. He looks feral, drenched in sticky red, a corpse slung sideways onto the ground beside him. He staggers at me, holding out a hand, and a bullet smashes into his side. I scream, jerking toward him on instinct, but he keeps coming.
“NIKA!”
Another bullet hits him. He doesn’t stop. I can’t move, can’t think, this man killed my father, but now he’s fighting through hell to get to me. Behind him, Daniel and several more soldiers clear out the perimeter, forcing my cousin to climb into a big black van. Artyom flashes me a vicious smile as he slams the back of the door, and I know what that look means?—
Have fun with your murderer husband.
“Nika! Nika!” Gabe sprints to me, staggering, and slams to his knees at my side. His hands grab me and I flinch back in terror, taking in the face of the man that killed my father, that lied to me, that ruined my life, that fucked me and took my virginity, that broke me. “Are you okay? Nika, fuck, baby, are you okay?!” He searches me desperately for wounds, despite the fact that he’s clearly injured.
“I’m… I’m okay…”
“I got you, baby.” He pulls me against him. I feel stiff and drained, like I’ve been hollowed out. “Fuck, baby, I was so fucking worried, but I’m here. I got you now, baby, I got you. I got you.”
“Gabe…”
“You’re safe.” He pulls back, handsome eyes locked on mine, brimming with emotion. “You’re safe, baby.”
I release an ugly sob and let him hold me, even if I’m not sure he’s right, even if I think I might not be trulysafeever again.
CHAPTER 18
NIKA
Gulls wheel past overhead. They float in the wind, hovering not far above me. I dig my toes into sand and take a deep breath of salty, briny ocean air. “I got nothing for you guys,” I whisper to the birds. They don’t care.
I watch the water for a while. It’s peaceful. My knee aches where I bashed it falling over a few days back, but I try not to think about that. I try not to think about the blood splattering my face, the sharp tang of it on my tongue, of Ilya’s jaw snapping in half, of Artyom grabbing me by the hair?—
I try not to think much of anything.
For the past four days, I’ve gone for walks.
Never alone. God forbid I ever have a moment of privacy. There are always men lurking nearby, always more than one. They watch from a respectful distance, but not too far.
In case something bad happens.
Today it’s my least favorite pair. Daniel is wearing jeans and a black shirt. He looks out of place on a beach, but he carrieshimself with pure confidence. His partner is an enormous monstrosity, his opposite, and he never talks. I call the big oneHulk, mostly because I don’t know his real name.
Daniel and Hulk follow when I start to wander down the beach. I like to stay close to the water. It laps against my feet. I carry my shoes in one hand and pick up shells with the other. I throw them back, again and again, even the pretty ones.
Feels wrong, keeping those.
I make it a mile before Daniel waves for me to turn back. I consider running. What’s further down the beach? More houses? More tourists? Boats crawl along the surf. Sometimes I walk past nice people who smile and nod kindly, but they never speak to me, like they know better. I feel like a prisoner.
