by Rina Kent
I always thought I was her rock and anchor, that I had to be strong for her, but I didn’t stop to think about how much that fake strength would eat away at the edges and seep inside.
That’s how it feels right now—like I’m dissolving from the outside in.
The scene of Anastasia clinging to Daniel keeps replaying at the back of my mind in a loop, in spite of my attempts to stop it. It’s whirling, repeating, and fucking up my breathing.
The way her lips parted when she looked at him and knelt between his legs. Lips that were only mine to kiss. Lips that only smiled at me.
Not anymore, though.
We’re over.
That’s what she said and when I didn’t agree, she proceeded to fucking prove it.
I hit the bag harder until my knuckles and muscles scream with pain and exertion. Until my vision is hazy with sweat and a red mist.
“Are you done murdering the punching bag or should I come back in a bit?”
My head whips to the side to find the fucker Daniel casually leaning against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankles.
I abandon the bag and stride toward him. Thank God the gym is empty, because it’s about to turn into a crime scene.
Sweat drips from my lashes and temples, and the exhaustion from punching the bag slowly recedes as adrenaline moves to the forefront.
Daniel raises his hands and backs away. “Whoa, calm down, mate. You’re making a grave mistake.”
“I’ll worry about that after it happens.”
He keeps backing away and I’m on him, my strides longer and with intent.
“I notarized a new will just now that says if I die under mysterious circumstances, Knox killed me.”
“Might as well make it happen then.”
“You’re being an unreasonable bloody idiot right now.”
“I’m the unreasonable bloody idiot? Are you sure that’s not you? Since…I don’t know. You are the one who put their fucking hands on her. On the one person that I’ve ever called mine. Let’s break down the fucking reason, shall we? What was it, exactly? Jealousy? Or maybe it’s your constant need to feel something after your secondary school crush broke your heart and stomped all over it as if it were mere rubbish? Is it because the only person you wanted never wanted you back, and that made you develop a phobia of blondes you still struggle with even as an adult?”
He stops backing away, his shoulders turning tense and his features gradually shutting down. The agreeable mask he wears for everyone slowly disappears, allowing his true image to show.
The raging, bitter fucker who also hates himself. That’s the one thing we had in common when we got close, and no matter how much he’s hid that fact, it’s still a huge part of who he is.
“Shut the fuck up, Knox.” There’s a warning in his clipped tone.
Bloody fantastic. Now, we’re getting down to business.
“It hurts, doesn’t it? Being hit upside the head by the truth. Being reminded that you can have any woman except the one you really want, because she only ever used you, right? You were nothing to her and always will be.”
His fists clench at his sides and I expect him to punch me. I’m waiting for him to make the first move so I can pummel him to the ground. However, his lips curve, and the holes in his cheeks appear grotesque as he smirks. “Just like you’re nothing to Anastasia, you mean? She threw you away the first chance she got. And guess who she chose? Moi.”
I lunge at him and he’s waiting with a raised fist. I punch him first and he punches back just as hard. I might’ve been the one who was working out on the bag, but his hits are fueled with as much adrenaline as mine.
It’s like he’s waited for this moment to release all the pent-up energy that’s been growing inside him as well.
I tackle him to the ground, but before I can pin him down, he rolls us around and kicks me in the balls.
“Motherfucker!” I curse, grabbing the throbbing area and stare up at him, because he’s standing, panting, his eyes shadowed. “That’s a fucking low blow.”
“Just like bringing her up. Do that again and your dick will be next.”
“Not if I kill you first.”
“You can try. Doesn’t mean you’ll succeed.”
I crawl to a sitting position, wincing at the pain in my balls. The fucking bastard got me good.
As much as I want to rearrange his features and sell them for parts, I know he meant it about my dick. He can be a raging arsehole when provoked and I definitely did that by mentioning his Achilles’ heel.
So unless I break his dick first, he’ll come after mine.
Besides, it’s like all the destructive energy I stored inside is slowly deflating. All I’m left with is a bitter taste at the back of my fucking throat.
I stare up at him—or, more accurately, glare. “Just tell me why, Daniel. Why her?”
“No reason.”
“Either you tell me or I swear to fuck I’m going to find the blonde from your past and fuck her, then send you the pictures.” I wouldn’t, because that would mean touching another woman besides Anastasia, and as much as I want to strangle the fuck out of her, I don’t want any other woman but her.
However, my words get me the intended reaction. He grabs me by the shirt and hauls me off the ground. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Why? I thought you were over her, or is that another lie?”
“I’m going to fuck up your life, Knox.”
“You do that while I’m busy fucking her into oblivion.”
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll fuck Anastasia for real.”
I’m about to punch him to death when his words register. He said for real, as in, it didn’t happen.
“You didn’t do anything with her, did you?” I ask slowly, the haze dissipating from my vision.
“I will in about half an hour if you don’t stop being a dick.”
“Like fuck you will.” I stand to my full height and push him away. “Why did you make me believe something happened?”
“I didn’t make you believe something happened. You painted that whole scenario yourself. I specifically told you I didn’t come on to her, but you weren’t listening.”
“Why did she say she came on to you?”
“Hello? She obviously realized I’m a catch.”
“Daniel,” I warn.
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“Well, I’m asking you.”
“Even if I knew something, why would I spill the beans? You get fewer brownie points for being a bloody fucking wanker. Not only did you believe I would do such a thing to you, but you also brought her up. We agreed to never fucking do that.”
“What did you expect me to do? You were lying to me.”
“I was cooperating for your bloody sake, but fuck you.”
“My sake? What is that supposed to mean?”
“She said she’s doing this for you.”
“For me?”
“That’s all I’m telling you. You’ll have to find out everything else from her.”
It still feels wrong that she even went to him instead of coming to me and I want to punch him to death for that reason alone, but I suck in deep breaths to conjure some much-needed calm.
Anastasia has a lot to answer to, and a lot to learn, like the fact that she can’t take any other man’s side but mine. Or tell me it’s over.
She can do whatever the fuck she wants, but only while she’s with me.
“Where did you see her last?” I ask Daniel.
“At the firm, but I wouldn’t look there or at her flat.”
“Why the fuck not?”
He sighs, long and deep. “Because she said she’s going back to where she came from.”
34
ANASTASIA
When I left my father’s house two months ago, I never thought I’d ever come back.
At least, not alive.
But here I am. In front of the black metal gate, waiting for the guards to open it. I do
n’t have to wonder whether or not they spotted me since countless cameras and drones survey the mansion.
If someone is stupid enough to consider intruding on the Pakhan’s house, they’ll have machine guns at their temples before they can blink.
The guards recruited to specifically protect the Pakhan don’t only rely on technology, though. They own countless weapons, some smuggled from Russia, and others from the merchandise they’ve acquired from arms dealers.
I’ve just seen the weapons vault once, and only because I was passing by when they were loading new guns in it. That thing resembled an army’s arsenal waiting to wage war.
Needless to say, I never went near it again.
Like Little Miss Ostrich, I pretended none of it mattered and I had nothing to do with it. Until I couldn’t keep up the façade anymore and I had to leave.
But now, I’m back.
Now, I’m sitting in front of the huge gate, staring at the blinking cameras. The guards must’ve seen me by now and told my father that the daughter who stole from the Bratva and he covered up for is back.
No clue what’s taking them so long. It couldn’t be because they don’t recognize me.
I stripped my hair and bleached it back to its original platinum blonde and I also removed the glasses and the contacts. I even wore a soft pink flowery dress and elegant high heels—the style everyone knows me by.
Just like that, Jane vanished. I snuffed her out as if she never existed.
I left my resignation letter with HR and two different letters to Gwen and Chris, apologizing for not being truthful about who I truly am and telling them that it’s better if they forget they ever met me.
Neither of them were supposed to happen in my new life, but they did, and for the first time, I realize that I’m capable of having friends.
It hurt to leave them, but it’s for their sake.
It’s for the best.
I’m back where I always belonged and foolishly thought I could leave.
And the worst part is, this isn’t the only thing I was so foolish about.
There’s also the belief that I could have a normal relationship.
My chest aches at the reminder of him, Knox, the man who showed me the world, but I left him with a bitter betrayal.
It’s been a day since he caught me with Daniel and left with that angry frown I wish I could erase. Only one day, but it feels like an eternity, like I haven’t seen him in forever.
The fact that he thinks so little of me adds insult to injury, but hopefully, with time, when he realizes why I’m doing this, he’ll understand.
The key word being hopefully.
Two guards appear behind the gate as it slowly creaks opens. They’re dressed in black suits and have assault rifles slung over their shoulders.
Then someone else walks through them, but it isn’t a guard. He’s a tall, bearded man who’s always protected me since I was a child.
It’s only been a short time since I saw him last, but he looks different, a little bit monstrous, even. Not that he’s ever been an angel, but I guess I only ever considered him a big brother. One who wouldn’t hesitate to break someone’s arm and smash another person’s face just because they touched me—even accidentally.
But that was before I turned my back on him and the brotherhood.
“Hi, Vladimir,” I whisper, unsure.
“Don’t hi me.” He has a thick Russian accent and a glare that can serve as a weapon. “Where have you been?”
That means Kirill and Adrian didn’t tell anyone about my whereabouts. That gives me less to worry about.
“Around.”
“Around isn’t a place.”
“It was nowhere important. Now, can I come in or are you going to keep interrogating me here?”
His lips press together, and I’m sure he has a million other questions he still wants to ask, but even he must realize this isn’t the place to do it.
“Follow me,” he grunts, then turns around without waiting to see if I’ll do as he says.
My feet carry me inside and my heart shrinks as the echo of the metal gate reverberates behind me.
It sounds final, as if I’ve signed some sort of a deal with the devil and will never be able to escape.
The guards fall in behind us as we step into the main building. The shrinking in my chest gets worse when my gaze falls on the giant painting in the entry hall.
A painting that Papa and my dead uncle—the previous Pakhan—put here for every visitor to see.
The clashing of angels and demons in a ferocious battle is depicted in raw detail. If you look closely, you can feel the blood coating your fingers and hear the howls of pain deep in your soul.
It’s an indirect message that lets everyone know what’s waiting for them.
It’s meant to bring assurance to every ally of the Bratva yet terrorize them in case they think of betrayal.
And I see myself in the dark side of the picture, the one that’s shadowed by the lighter color and unable to win.
I’m the slaughtered demon lying on the ground, clutching his chest and choking on blood.
My ominous thoughts are brought to a halt when Vladimir stops in front of the double golden doors of the dining room, where Papa conducts his meetings with the leaders of the brotherhood.
Meetings I were never allowed to attend.
My pulse skyrockets and any semblance of calm shreds into a million pieces. Does this mean Papa will confront me in front of everyone? Adrian and Kirill included?
Shit. I’d hoped to talk to Adrian first, because if he finds out I didn’t abide by his orders, he won’t hesitate to make his threat about Knox a reality.
Before I get the chance to hyperventilate, Vladimir opens the door and I freeze.
Because I’m attacked by a hug out of nowhere.
A warm, soft hug that I’ve known since I was five, when she promised to protect me.
My great-cousin, Uncle’s granddaughter, Rai, pulls back to check me out as if I’m a soldier home from war.
She’s wearing a beige pantsuit and her hair is pulled up in an elegant twist. It’s blonde, too, but it’s a bit darker than mine.
Everything about Rai is darker than me. Whether it’s her childhood or how involved she is in this world.
“Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you? Just give me a name and I will personally make sure they know their place.”
I resist a smile at her overprotectiveness. She’s always acted like my shield against this world, but unfortunately, that was never enough.
“No one hurt me, Rai.”
She focuses on my face for the first time, a frown deepening between her brows. “Then where were you?”
“She willingly left, as she mentioned in that measly note she wrote before disappearing.” The apathy in the older male voice turns my blood to ice.
I stare over Rai’s shoulder and my eyes meet those that are identical to mine.
The same eyes that I considered safe when I first met him.
Sergei Sokolov.
Even though I found his eyes safe that first time we met him at the park, I didn’t want to leave with him, because that meant abandoning my mom.
That same day, however, someone told my stepfather that they saw Mom with a man and he beat her up so badly, I couldn’t remain hiding under the bed anymore.
I rummaged through my pocket for his number and called him. Papa. I begged him for help and he came within half an hour.
It was too late, though.
Because my stepfather had finally managed to beat Mom to death. I’ll never forget the scene I walked in on that night.
Mom’s head was lolled to the side, blood splattered on the table, and her teary eyes stared at nothing.
My stepdad was on his back next to her, a bloody hole lodged between his eyes.
In the midst of the gruesome scene stood Papa, a gun in hand.
When he saw me, he hid the weapon and reached his hand out to me. That time, I didn
’t hesitate to take it.
Because I had no one but him. The man who ended the nightmare my stepdad represented, even though it was too late.
That same man is now staring at me with ice-cold eyes that rip through my soul. He’s so much older than back then. His hair has whitened and wrinkles have appeared around his eyes.
But no amount of aging can take the killer out of him. No amount of changes can deny how powerful he is.
The Sokolovs were born to do great things, he told me when I was young, but I don’t think he meant using my skills to steal from the brotherhood.
I slowly walk to him and reach for his hand to kiss the back of it the way everyone is expected to greet the Pakhan, but he turns his face away from me in clear rejection.
My trembling hand falls to my side and I swallow thickly.
“You have some explaining to do,” he says without masking the coldness in his voice.
“Granduncle…” Rai starts in a placating tone. “She just came back.”
“When she shouldn’t have left in the first place.”
Vladimir closes the door and locks it, trapping the four of us inside, then starts inspecting the room, for bugs, I presume.
We all remain silent until he finishes his thorough checkup and nods at us to proceed.
It’s Papa who says, “You have one minute to explain why you stole funds from V Corp and disappeared.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hanging my head. “I didn’t think the three of you would cover up for me.”
“Then what did you think? That I would paint my own daughter as a criminal and risk losing the leader position? Did I or did I not tell you that you needed to think about who you are before making a single move? It’s not only about you anymore. It’s about the Sokolov name. So why don’t you tell us what made you betray it.”
“I didn’t betray you…”
“You left with funds and without telling any of us.” Vladimir crosses his arms. “That’s the definition of betrayal.”
“That’s not what I intended.”
“Then what did you intend?” It’s Rai who speaks, her voice softer but no less firm than Vladimir’s. “Tell us, Ana.”
I let out a breath. “I wanted to protect Babushka.”