Page 82 of Violent Pawn

Anastasia deserves something good, and I want to be that something for her.

She’s my something good.

She’s my something best.

She’s the one who could change everything, so why shouldn’t I change for her?

“I’ve really come to trust you, Nero. Please don’t make me regret that.”

This is for you, I mentally argue back. You won’t regret it when you understand why.

Slowly and carefully, I slide out from beside her and pull the blanket up to her hip. I move around the bed and pretend not to be a man she’d hate for doing what I’m about to. She’ll eventually get the news of her father’s death, but without the fact of who’s behind it.

I reach for her phone and tap the screen to wake it up. When the room lights with a glow, I check that she’s still asleep before unplugging it and bringing it back to her side. Eyes locked on hers to ensure she doesn’t waken, I angle the phone for the face unlocking mechanism to work, and then rush to the bathroom when it does.

I start in the Contacts app, and after only a few swipes, I nearly can’t believe it when I see the one labelled Papa, with his address and contact information.

So fucking close to ending this…

I copy the information into my phone, and then return to the bedroom to replace her phone on its charger and get dressed.

She rolls over at the same time, burying her face into the pillows. Leaving is crucial, but I hesitate, wanting to touch her first. Just one more time, to imprint the memory of tonight into my soul. If this ends badly, I’ll have the reminder of why I’m doing this.

One of the reasons, anyway. Not the original reason, but the main one certainly.

I move hair from her face and whisper, “For you, Anastasia. For us. You deserve a better version of me.”

Then I slip from the room, feeling every level of regret while every drop of victory consumes me.

When I reach the staircase, Zeno slips from Vanessa’s room in only a pair of sweats. We both freeze upon spotting the other, but he takes in my rumpled clothing and place by the stop of the stairs, correctly guessing.

“You’re leaving?”

“Something’s come up with my padre I need to get home for.”

His chin lifts, studying me. He’s picking apart my lie and trails me down the stairs in silence. Both calculating the other, but neither willing to say what’s on our mind.

He waits until I’m close to the front door before calling after me. “How’s Ana?”

“Asleep.”

Zeno scans my clothing again before crossing his arms. “You didn’t come from your room.”

“No.” There’s no point in lying. Not about this. I’ve been doing enough of that for our entire lives.

“Does she know you have to go or will I be making up excuses tomorrow?” The words might sound like a supportive best friend, but his tone implies everything but. He’ll lie, but won’t be thrilled about it.

“No.”

“Don’t lie to her, Nero.” He takes a few more steps, his body expanding with his breath. “Do not hurt her. She’s a good person. Whatever is going on with you, keep her out of it. This is your one and only warning.”

Without waiting for a response, he turns and continues down the hallway. I wait until his steps fade before heading out into the night to walk towards the edge of the Bratva property, where I’ll phone a cab.

Zeno’s final threat lingers in my head. It’s impossible to keep Anastasia out of it when she’s the source of it.

41

ANASTASIA