The Promise (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 2)

by Bethany-Kris

  Well, those were semantics.

  Right?

  Roman never did well with those.

  Demyan started filling in the blanks all on his own which made things easier for Roman. “Let me guess, Maxim was about to make you answer for sleeping with his spoken-for daughter—that’s how you earned your proper beating. And then, you told him about the plot, so he let you live.”

  “Essentially.”

  “But,” Demyan said, wagging a finger his son’s way, “somehow you ended up bringing the girl back here with you. That ... I’m lost.”

  Sadly, that was the clearest part for Roman.

  “He wanted to get rid of his daughter. Made it known he never wanted to see her again—to me. Besides that, I don’t know what is going on in Chicago now that I’m gone, and he’s aware of what his man was planning. You want to know why she’s here, but I don’t have a specific reason beyond what was put in my hands. I just did what I thought was the only option.”

  Demyan let out a noise that voiced his irritation. If it wasn’t his son in front of him—chances were, things might have taken a more violent turn in the room. “And here she is, right?”

  “Well—”

  “I told you to keep your fucking head down. To mind your business!”

  “You also sent me to Chicago to get me off your hands—let’s not forget that, Papa. I certainly haven’t.”

  “That’s not what I did.”

  “Bullshit. You wanted to teach me a lesson. Let me assume responsibility, whatever the fuck that even means.”

  “Wrong, Roman,” Demyan snarled with enough venom to quiet his son. For a second, anyway. “You assume I wanted the Yazovs to do anything—the only thing I did was remain ignorant. If someone interferes with your affairs, what problem is it of mine? I didn’t plan anything, and I didn’t stop it, either. Make sure you understand that the next time you decide one of your stupid decisions is my fault.”

  Demyan’s fists hit the desk with a bang making a pain shoot down Roman’s torso again when he flinched. “It doesn’t fucking matter now, son. You’ve brought home a girl who is promised to a bratva man. Do you realize what that means?”

  “That this could cost me my life? Yeah, I’m aware. Trust, it’s crossed my mind a few times.”

  It was only as Demyan scrubbed a palm down his jaw as he tried to make sense of the mess in front of him that Roman felt the pangs of guilt tugging at him once more—the ones he experienced when disappointing his father. A familiar feeling as it happened more often than he cared to admit, but he’d never found a reason to do anything different. He knew this probably wasn’t the same.

  “If a marriage is fixed, it has to happen, those are the rules,” Demyan said, repeating his earlier sentiment like it made a difference.

  Roman shrugged, murmuring, “It’s not going to happen. It’s impossible since the bride-to-be is missing and the only people who know where she is are the ones in this apartment, and the dead man walking in Chicago.”

  Demyan eyed his son, the silence stretching on the longer he assessed Roman. He could feel his father trying to get into his head, to pry the secrets he kept there right out of his fucking skull.

  “But for how long, Roman?”

  He didn’t reply.

  His father continued on, saying, “I’m not sure if you sound happy about all of this, or ... not. Is there something else in this equation you’re not telling me about—what am I missing?”

  Roman almost wished they continued to silently glare at each other. Anything except that damn question. Thinking it might give him a bit of time to gather his thoughts, he said, “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

  Demyan lifted his brow high. “Are you in love with her?”

  That was not the question Roman expected. The words hung between them, filling the room with their weight and girth. It sounded ridiculous coming from his father’s mouth—even Demyan couldn’t hide his incredulous tone.

  Roman, in love.

  That was ...

  That was crazy.

  Still, Roman didn’t reply. Love was a strong word for something he didn’t understand; an experience he’d never had, really. He also didn’t think it would be fair to say he had no emotional attachment to Karine, even if that was also something he didn’t comprehend. None of those things really mattered, either.

  Too much time passed between them without either of them speaking, and Demyan quickly lost patience for it when he said, “That’s the only possible reason for you to act this way—do something as stupid as this. And not just yourself, no, you’re risking everyone. Everything, Roman. Your life, your family, and the rest of your own bratva, because don’t be mistaken about that, son. They’re going to come after all of us. Until they get to the one they want.”

  Roman still refused to speak.

  His father tipped his chin up, then, looking down at his son sitting in the chair. “Well, there better be a damn good reason for it. And I’m waiting to hear it. If not love, then what?”

  If only things were simple.

  Demyan pointed a finger at Roman, telling him, “It better mean something—all you’ve done ... There better be a good fucking reason. At least lie to me.”

  Except he couldn’t.

  “I wanted to help her. I didn’t say anything about love.”

  Demyan opened his mouth to retort, his lips already twisted in his anger, but the loud shouts of a man echoed down the hallway. It stopped them both in their tracks. Then, glass shattered, too.

  Shit.

  “Karine,” Roman muttered, already off his chair and rounding the desk.

  His father was fast on his heels.

  • • •

  Andrey, the bull who followed Demyan everywhere, was the one who had shouted loud enough to rattle the walls. As it turned out—he had a good reason. Karine had backed him into a corner of the kitchen, right next to the island. He didn’t think her one-twenty soaking wet frame was enough to scare the muscled, brick wall of a man, but the chunky kitchen knife she had thrust against his neck could certainly do the job.

  She even made him bleed.

  The drops of blood dribbled down from a slice in the man’s neck, soaking into his silk dress shirt. Andrey’s wide gaze darted wildly around the room, looking for a way out. Karine must have grabbed a knife out of the block that was on the island. It was almost comical—if it wasn’t so fucked up—that such a petite woman with nothing more than a knife against the bull’s neck was enough to terrify the man.

  Had she caught him by surprise?

  Masha came barreling down the hallway a few seconds after Roman and Demyan entered the kitchen. He wondered how long she had been awake, and where the fuck she had been, but there wasn’t really time for that discussion.

  “Karine, sweetheart, put the knife down,” Masha said, her voice a soothing whisper.

  However, it did nothing to calm Karine or persuade her to put the weapon away. In fact, she paid Masha no mind.

  She leaned harder into Andrey, glaring at him with her jaw clenched tight, and hooded eyes nailed into the pinned man. “Who are you—what in the fuck are you doing here?”

  That voice.

  It froze Roman to the spot.

  That wasn’t Karine at all.

  Still, to be sure, Roman called to her, “Karine, let him go.”

  She didn’t move a muscle, except for the look she threw over her shoulder that met his eyes. It was fast—wild and fleeting before her gaze was right back on the threat she had to deal with. She was on high alert; every move someone made, even to inch closer, caught her attention. Yet, not enough to allow Andrey even a split-second to act against her.

  That look was enough.

  Roman had seen it. The viciousness in her stare. There was a tension in her brows and a sneer on her lips.

  Katina had arrived.

  Apparently, just in time.

  Roman tried not to be taken aback at how the switch between identities could
happen without any warning, if only because he didn’t have the time to be distracted. Exactly how this situation was triggered—well, he didn’t have a clue. Maybe she was startled awake and saw Andrey. A face she didn’t recognize—and instead of Karine or Katee, it was Katina who chose to be present.

  “Please, Karine,” Masha said, keeping her distance and gentle tone, but continuing to at least try. “Look at me, huh? It’s fine ... everything is fine.”

  Her efforts were for nothing. Karine wasn’t listening, and Katina didn’t care. Andrey didn’t move, but one of his hands twitched on the island counter like he might make a move to grab something.

  “Who the fuck is this? I was just trying to get a drink, man,” the bull said, his words cracking at the end. At his voice, Katina leaned in again. “Easy—shit, take it easy, girl. I wasn’t doing shit to you.”

  Glass, shattered into sharp shards, had spread across the floor in a puddle of water. Roman followed the pink-stained water to where it ended at Katina’s bleeding feet. Despite the cuts on the soles of her feet, it was one more thing that didn’t seem to make her radar.

  “You need to tell me what is really going on here,” Demyan muttered at Roman’s side. “Right now, son.”

  When shit hit the fan, it really hit. Now just wasn’t the time. Roman had to take care of the situation at hand first, and then maybe he could clear some things up for his father.

  Roman kept a firm tone when he said, “Katina, I’ll only say it once more. Let the man go.”

  That time, she looked at him for longer—and he knew why. Roman addressed her with the right name. It was that same viciousness he’d found in her stare earlier that concerned him the most, though. He wondered if anyone knew the kind of violence this woman was capable of when she was Katina. It took balls to hold a knife to a man’s throat and not even blink about it.

  “You weren’t here when I woke up,” Katina said suddenly, throwing the words at him like a slap over her shoulder. “You were supposed to be here. But no, this guy was. I don’t know him.” Strained, her words hissed lower as Roman got closer. “I don’t know him.”

  Yeah.

  He got it.

  Holding his hands up where she could see, Roman hoped that would assure she wouldn’t think he was coming at her with anything. He didn’t want her to make any sudden movements that could fatally hurt Andrey—the guy hadn’t exactly asked for this. Karine wouldn’t want that on her conscience, or hands.

  “I was here the whole time. I didn’t go anywhere, just to the other room,” Roman said fast, inching forward slowly with every word. “I spent the night in my bedroom. You know that. Katee even knows it—she saw me, drew me.”

  He only stated facts.

  Katina tipped her chin up, the tense line of muscle working hard in her neck as her stare stayed locked with his. And just like that, water started to well in her eyes until the tears fell when she finally blinked. Roman took the opportunity to pull the knife out of her hand, and she didn’t resist. He tossed it across the counter out of reach. Then, he tugged her in his direction with a gentle pull of her hands in his.

  She came easily, falling into his chest and hiding in his arms.

  Andrey grunted under his breath, giving Roman a nod when he met the bull’s gaze. A silent thank you, but he didn’t linger near the counter for long before scooting further down.

  “Katina—Karine ... who are these—”

  He decided to ignore his father because Katina prattled on against his chest, muttering words he wanted to hear.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fuck up, Roman. I didn’t.”

  Slipping his hands under her chin, he tipped her head back to make her look at him. “Hey, hey—chill, huh? Nobody fucked up, all right? It was just a—”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

  The tears came harder, clouding those big blue eyes while her voice cracked, too. Every word coming out at a different cadence. Each blink she made, he realized the cloudiness wasn’t her tears, but confusion.

  Karine.

  Katina.

  Back and forth.

  Softly, a whimpering Karine told him, “I really didn’t mean to hurt him.”

  “Yes, you did,” Roman interrupted her. “You did, and you don’t have to explain why.”

  His hand curved around her jaw while his thumb caressed her cheek. Her face turned into his palm, and touch.

  “I’m just—sorry,” she whispered.

  “It doesn’t matter, it’s okay. Masha is going to help you with those cuts on your feet right now. She knows where the first aid kit is.”

  He glanced over at Masha who nodded.

  Karine still had her hands on him, bunching his shirt in her tiny fists. “What about you?”

  The weakness that welled without warning inside his chest was a punch to his heart that he couldn’t afford. He didn’t want her to feel alone or vulnerable.

  “I’ll be right there ... I just need a minute, yeah?”

  Masha came close enough to begin prying Karine away. Eventually, she gave in and allowed herself to be led to the hallway. She looked over her shoulder at Roman repeatedly, and he nodded. Just to reassure her. Until she couldn’t see him anymore.

  Once Karine was gone, he could finally focus on the other problem—his father. If only that proverbial small-fist shaped hole in his chest wasn’t bleeding with every beat of his black heart.

  Andrey had already left the room by the time Roman turned back on his father. Presumably to go take care of his wounded neck, and he sincerely hoped the man took the hint and stayed gone.

  Demyan stared hard at his son, his expression stony when he said, “There’s a lot of shit you’re not telling me. And I want to know all of it.”

  “You shouldn’t feel too bad about not knowing,” Roman replied, shrugging, “because I’ve only just started to figure it out myself.”

  And fuck it.

  His father could wait.

  Roman had something more important to handle first—someone, rather. He headed for the hallway and said nothing more as he followed the bloody footprints on the marble floor that led all the way to his bedroom.

  FOUR

  The most disconcerting thing for Karine was when she didn’t know where she was—fully awake, feeling aware, but unknowing all the same. She couldn’t say how long it might last, but sometimes it happened more often than it didn’t. A few moments ago, she’d found herself in Roman’s arms, but it had been hard to focus on what he was trying to say. Were there other people there—other men? She kept going in and out of the scene, sometimes looking down from above, almost blacking out from the dizziness making nausea swell inside her.

  Even though it was hard, she listened to what the only recognizable face in the sea of confusion kept saying. Over the rushing in her ears, and the vomit threatening to spill, she heard his words.

  Roman, that was.

  It’ll be okay.

  He promised to be close by—to not leave her alone. So, where was he?

  It’s going to be alright.

  The thing was—Karine still couldn’t make sense of it all. She didn’t know what he meant. What was she apologizing for? Why did he keep insisting it would be fine?

  Was it?

  Was it really fine?

  It didn’t seem like it, and the sudden, heavy cloak of fear that hugged every inch of her trembling frame in a cold grip only made it worse. The screaming in her mind, every racing beat of her heart, the piercing ring in her ears ... all of it.

  She just wanted to run.

  Drift away.

  Hide.

  The disturbing words that came out of her mouth weren’t her own. The whispers cutting through her thoughts sounded foreign, and wrong. Every blink brought with it strange images that she couldn’t place and only left her more afraid.

  It was the loss of control that terrified her the most.

  Karine couldn’t ignore the blackening in the corner of her vision no matt
er how hard she tried. The more she willed it away, the worse it became. She blinked rapidly until it started to clear just a little bit, but even that didn’t stop the hissed stop it, stop it coming out of her mouth. Waving her hands in front of her face, she couldn’t see them. Couldn’t tell which way was up or down.

  That darkness—it threatened to close in on her again if she couldn’t pull herself from the depths of her own mind.

  She knew she was in a room but didn’t know which it was or how she had gotten there. Some things looked familiar, the only sense of safety she could pull from her current situation, but most of all—it smelled familiar. Like somebody she knew.

  Someone who made her feel safe.

  Roman?

  Karine wanted to call out his name—call for him—but her voice didn’t want to work. She couldn’t speak, only keening cries falling from her trembling lips even as she tried to suck in gulpfuls of air to calm the raging currents of her emotions. The only thing she could do was breathe. Though it didn’t help to make her feel like it was enough, she was still able to do it.

  So, she did.

  Rapidly filling her lungs with air as much as she could, it at least kept the black smog from filling her vision entirely. If only it did something for ... everything else.

  The crawling on her skin.

  The noise in the room.

  Any of it.

  All of it.

  But it didn’t.

  She weaved her fingers through her hair before dragging them down her face.

  Karine was sure she’d been standing up, but now it was as though she couldn’t stop from sinking. Her knees bent without permission. It was more than just gravity pulling her down.

  Then, there were the voices.

  Clearer than ever.

  Scared, and vicious.

  She didn’t know where they came from except that they were inside ... inside her. They were a fading echo. A younger voice, a girl’s—she was sweet, her words kind, but she sounded desperate all the same.

  It’s okay, Karine. We’re okay here. It’s okay.