Trey

by Shandi Boyes

  The lowering of her chin reveals she spotted my comment, but she can’t reply, or she’ll risk being fired. Even suggesting for a chicken gravy to be served with turkey can get you fired by Mrs. Novak. She hates being told what to do.

  Halfway across the manicured gardens separating the servants’ quarters from the main residence, I’m startled to within an inch of my life. “No luck?” Achim, Mr. and Mrs. Novak’s eldest son, smiles a blistering grin when I clutch my chest to ensure my heart remains put. This is the first time I’ve seen him in over a year. He’s attending his senior year at a boarding school far, far away from here. “It was probably the braid. It makes you look very childish.”

  Boarding school was supposed to teach him some manners.

  It clearly didn’t work.

  After rolling my eyes, I continue down the path I was walking before I was rudely interrupted. My strides slacken three steps later when Achim shouts, “I can help you, you know.”

  Hearing his unvoiced words the loudest, I say, “With what, exactly?”

  He waits for me to pivot around and face him before he answers, “You want to work for my family, don’t you?” When I nod, the arrogance on his face doubles. “I can help you with that… if you’re willing to do something worthwhile to be awarded my help.”

  I’ve lived a very sheltered life, but even someone as naïve as me couldn’t miss the innuendo in his tone. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m willing to wait another two years.”

  My steps freeze for the second time when Achim mutters, “That’ll be another four years stuck here, saving to go to school. Come on, Kristina. Don’t act so regal. Your head will never wear the crown you’re seeking. You’ll always be the help, so why not accept it when it’s being offered?”

  I barely roll my eyes for a second, however, it’s long enough for Achim to creep up on me unaware. He fists my braid so fiercely, I’m certain it’ll take longer than a year to cover the bald patch of his yank. “You either accept my help willingly, Help, or I’ll force you to accept it.”

  I’m terrified for my life, equally scared and horrified. I don’t budge an inch, not even when Achim commences dragging me toward the pottery barn at the side of the garden. As vomit creeps up my throat, panic sets in. My family has served the Novaks for years, but what Achim is asking for was never part of the agreement. My parents work hard for their money, and even with their stature not being close to the Novaks’, they’re good, honest people who don’t deserve to have their only child treated this way.

  Just before Achim pulls me into the dark, scary void, a voice I’ll never forget breaks through the horror setting my panic alight. It’s the voice of my mother, demanding for me to come back to the main house immediately because she has some good news for me.

  “If I don’t go, she’ll come looking for me,” I speak through the lump in my throat, praying Achim is as scared by my mother as the women who work with her. “Please, Achim.”

  His fingers are only half weaved out of my hair when I push off my feet with a grunt, running in the direction opposite to the one I was walking. I sprint so fast, the tears streaming down my face blow off in the wind of my speed.

  When I crash into the chest of my mother a few strides later, my words come out in such a flurry, I barely make any sense.

  “Kristina, slow down. I can’t understand you.”

  As my mother lifts my chin so she can peer into my eyes, I catch sight of the people surrounding us. Mrs. Novak isn’t the only one eyeing me with a steely glare, so is her son. He’s holding the ribbon once twisted around my braid to his nose, smiling when the scent of my shampoo streams through his flaring nostrils, not the least bit concerned I’m about to rat him out.

  I discover why when my mother mouths, “Please be careful about what you say. Mrs. Novak is quite temperamental today.”

  She’ll put measures in place to protect me when I tell her what Achim did, but I can’t commence that here. She needs her job. Both my parents do. This isn’t a town with money to burn. If you don’t work for the Novaks, you don’t work for anyone.

  After licking my dry lips, I mutter, “I lost my ribbon. I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” My mother cups my jaw in a motherly way before saying, “I’ll pick you up another one. Your father and I are about to head to town for supplies.”

  “Can I come with you?” She shakes her head for not even a second when I switch my question to a beg. “Please.”

  “I’d love for you to come, sweetheart, but Mrs. Novak has agreed to put you on a trial basis commencing immediately. If you can prove yourself within a week, she’ll place you on permanently.” Mistaking my gulp as one of excitement, she smiles a grin so bright, the sun appears nonexistent. “You can tell me everything that happened the instant your shift is over, okay?”

  Even being genuinely unsure how I can explain what happened, I nod.

  “Good girl. Now go with Rosa, she’ll show you the rooms you’re in charge of this week.”

  Rosa, a lady with thick silver hair and a shadow of a mustache on her top lip, steps out from behind Mrs. Novak before gesturing for me to follow her. Since her presence guarantees I won’t be left alone with Achim, I quickly follow her into the Novak estate.

  “Ma?” I question, my voice groggy since it’s almost two in the morning. I fell asleep not long after finishing my first shift. Since I was so determined to show Mrs. Novak I had the strength needed to be a chambermaid, I put in more hours than necessary.

  It also meant I was never alone.

  I only left the main residence when I was forced out, and even then, it was under protest. My parents hadn’t returned from town. They’d left hours earlier, and their absence is very unlike them.

  A scratch impinges my throat when the face of the person entering the servants’ quarters registers as familiar. It’s Mr. Novak. He’s nicer than both his wife and son, but he never merges this deep into the grounds of his estate. He barely leaves his room.

  “Kristina, honey, I need you to come to the main residence with me. There’s been an accident. The police are in attendance…”

  I wake up screaming, panting, and clawing at the arms circling me as the world drains from beneath my feet for the second time in my life. “You’re okay, K. You are safe.”

  Because the nightmares of that morning were replaced by real-life ones not long after it, I haven’t dreamed about the night my parents were killed for years. They died when a truck driver lost his brakes going down a hill. He was pulling across the road to use the emergency stopping lane etched into the side of the mountain. Because he didn’t see my parents, he ran straight over them, killing them both on impact.

  It took the authorities so long to notify their next of kin because they were trapped under the wreckage for hours. As if that wasn’t already confronting, I was given the horrifying news while standing across from Achim, who smiled like the end of my life was the beginning of his.

  In a way, he was right. My life did end that morning. I wasn’t raped until four years later, but that’s only because Achim was so scared he’d get the help pregnant he wasn’t willing to risk penetration. That’s why he forced me to suck him off instead. It was his worry-free alternative.

  That all changed when I gave my virginity to Trey.

  Because I was no longer pure, and Achim had the solemn vow of his wife-to-be to prove it, he realized he could shunt unwanted pregnancies onto almost anyone. Who would second-guess anything he said? He’s a Novak. He has the blood of royalty.

  Only Trey’s family blood was more regal, and look where that got him. His family legacy is dead, the whereabouts of his mother and brother are unknown. He has no one but me. A whore who wakes up in the middle of the night screaming. A woman so selfish the last thoughts she had of her parents was that she wanted to be better than them.

  A woman so broken, she may never be fixed.

  What was so bad about my parents’ life that I desired more? They had love, li
ght, and me—the cancerous leech who destroys everything.

  If I had remembered my place, I would have never gained Achim’s attention, and none of this would be happening. Trey’s mind wouldn’t have been poisoned, Achim wouldn’t have raped me, and I wouldn’t be so selfish, the desire to be cherished sees me placing my needs above anyone else’s. Trey has his own demons, yet, he’s here, soothing me while the nightmare of my past clings to my skin.

  Achim was right. I am a whore. I sold half my soul for an orgasm, then surrendered the other half for a pair of shoes. I’m a terrible person, but that doesn’t mean the hate I have for Achim is underserving.

  He didn’t punish me because I had sinned.

  He punished me so I would sin.

  Then he had the perfect excuse to hurt me.

  I fell straight into his trap. I hate myself for it, but I hate Achim even more than that.

  “Nesnáším tě, Achim,” I garble through the bile scorching my throat. “Nesnáším tě. Nesnáším tě. Nesnáším tě,” I repeat again and again and again until my confession of hate pushes me into a blackness so fierce, I don’t think if I’ll ever come out.

  Sixteen

  Trey

  My eyes float up from my balled fists to the door when a knock sounds through my ears. I haven’t slept since K woke up screaming. I could hardly understand a thing she said while digging her nails into my arm, fighting to get out of my hold, but one word rang louder than the rest—Achim.

  That’s not a common, everyday name, especially in this part of the continent. It has me wondering exactly how long K has been stateside and how she got here. This isn’t an industry you choose to join. You’re either purchased, stolen, or kidnapped from another organization. Could that sanction have anything to do with the name she shouted in the midst of a terrifying nightmare?

  Although I’d love a few more hours to work through my confusion, the urgent expression on Nero’s face doesn’t give me a chance. He’s a few spots down from me in Nikolai’s crew, but his importance to this sanction is undeniable. He has a pretty-boy face most of the crew gives him hell for, but deadly, murderous insides. You grow thick skin when you spend half your childhood looking like a girl instead of a boy. He’s fixed the injustice now with as many tattoos and piercings as me, but no amount of body art can hide his boyishly handsome face.

  “Can this wait?” I ask, still uneased by K’s nightmare. She’s been fragile since she orgasmed, and I have a feeling her nightmare is just the beginning of her downfall.

  Nero shakes his head. “Not unless you want Nikolai’s kingdom to topple before it’s truly begun.” My heart rate kicks up a beat when he adds, “We let feelers out as you suggested. One caught wind about a flock set to fly.”

  Fuck. This is what I’ve been worried about since Nikolai decided to storm Vladimir’s off-site compound. His decision revealed he was putting Justine above his position. To his crew, it showed strength and leadership. To his enemies, it exposed he has a weakness—one they’ll be more than happy to use against him. That’s why I fired at India all those years ago. If I had placed her above anyone, my operation would have folded even quicker than it did from Cole’s change of teams.

  If I knew back then what I know now, I would have never notched back the trigger. Alas, I can’t change the past, but I sure as hell can stop the same thing happening to Nikolai.

  “Who?”

  I could expand on my question, but Nero isn’t my go-to guy for no reason. “Vasilievs. Eight spotted them armoring up. They’re a mile or two out from P’s.”

  I swear for the second time, out loud this time. “Tell the men to suit up.” After dragging over my jeans, I stuff my feet inside the openings, yank them up my thighs, then hunt for a shirt. “Does Nikolai know?” Nero waits for me to pull a plain white T over my head and grab my boots from the door before he shakes his head. “Why the fuck not?”

  “Mikhail—”

  “I don’t give a fuck what Mikhail says. You don’t work for Mikhail. You work for Nikolai, so anything happening on his turf goes directly through him.”

  My throat works through a hard swallow when Nero says, “Mikhail didn’t want you informed either.” When I look two seconds from ripping Mikhail’s stomach out of his body via his nostrils, Nero talks faster, “Not because he’s trying to jump over your rank. Word is Alexei knows you killed Tristan. He doesn’t want revenge, Trey. He has every intention of killing you.”

  “Then it’s my right to be a part of this war, isn’t it?” I don’t wait for him to answer me. I once again direct him to get the men ready before moving to K’s side of the bed. She appears to be sleeping. Her ruse would be more convincing if her ear wasn’t squashed against the mattress, and her eyes weren’t open and unblinking. I don’t know if Nero’s unexpected arrival to my room shunted her into the dark void or her nightmare. It could be a combination of them both.

  After pulling out the blanket flattened beneath her and cocooning her within it, I push her hair away from her face. “I’ll be back, alright? I know I said I wouldn’t leave you, but this is really important.”

  I’d give anything for her to answer me. To say it’s okay for me to leave. But since it is unlikely she’ll ever do that, I drag my thumb over her lips that are slightly parted so she can suck in shallow breaths unnoticed before making a beeline for the door Nero’s shadow disappeared from only seconds ago.

  As carnage swarms around me, I take the most direct route to Nikolai’s room in the compound. Even though I’m dressed, I feel naked without my gun. It’s usually stuffed down the back of my jeans. Tonight, I left it sitting on my bedside table. Leaving it there was the only way I could convince myself it was okay to leave K. She’ll be safe. No one knows about Clarks’ location. Nikolai kept it on the down-low for this very reason. We’ll never be ambushed here. It’s Nikolai’s safe haven, and the only place I’ve ever felt sheltered.

  Hopefully, it will represent the same thing for K one day as well.

  A Russian curse word breaks through the door of Nikolai’s room when I rack my knuckles against it. He tells me to leave with a heap of gravelly words and even more expletives.

  “Can’t,” I reply without the slightest quiver to my voice. We’ve had days to prepare for this war, so now isn’t the time to act panicked. “Birds have word of a takeover bid.”

  Another Russian curse word booms through Nikolai’s door a mere second before it swings open. When I see his girl splayed on his bed, barely covered by a sheet, I drop my eyes to my boots, aware even I would kill my number two if he saw K like that. My fists twitched for a smashing when Nero peered into my room earlier, and K’s body was hidden by one of my shirts.

  “What is it?” Nikolai asks when he spots the annoyed expression crossing my face.

  Just like my conversation with Nero, I keep things basic. “Alexei. He’s heading to P’s.”

  “The men—”

  “Suiting up now. Armor was restocked when you kicked us out of Justine’s apartment. We’ve got plenty of ammunition, but I suggest we still go in quietly. We’ll need less men if he doesn’t know we’re coming.”

  Most people think there’s only one route to the Popov mansion.

  They’re wrong.

  Why go around when you can go over?

  “How many?”

  I shrug. “Nero didn’t give me a number. Last count, the Vasilievs were sitting at around thirty or so men. Fifty when the coke is good.”

  That’s where Alexei went wrong. He secured the loyalty of his crew with drugs instead of respect. He doesn’t give a fuck about his men or the whores who service them after a hard day, and they know it.

  I kind of wish Nikolai was the same when he says, “I’ll lead the men in. Have the quads fueled and ready to go, then take up comms. The last thing we want is the feds interrupting a turf war.”

  “I’m not doing comms—” Nikolai cuts me off with a stern glare. Usually, it would have me backing down in an instant—this is hi
s sanction, so he can do with it as he pleases—but that excuse won’t fly today. “Nero said the word on the street is Alexei is doing this because he wants me. If that’s true, he won’t stop until he gets me.”

  “He won’t get you, Trey. He’ll kill you.” He locks his eyes with mine. They’re more sparked with worry than fortified with the hate they are generally fired by. “You were acting on my orders, which means retribution for Tristan’s death belongs on my shoulders.”

  “Nik—”

  “Don’t make me take this decision out of your hands, Trey. You either stay here as I am requesting, or our truce will be over. Don’t you know princes from different realms can’t be friends?”

  He doesn’t mean what he’s saying. He’s just stressed, that’s all. We’re brothers. Allies. Best friends. That’s why he’s dealing me the hand he is. He’d rather have me as his enemy than see me buried. It’s his fucked-up way of saying he cares about me.

  “Get the quads fueled up but tell the men to hold until I’m ready.” Stealing my chance to put forward a better argument, he shuts the door in my face.

  I’m barely halfway to the weaponry room decked out with enough equipment for three wars when Nikolai and Justine nip at my heels. Nikolai’s speed is so fierce, Justine has to jog to keep up with him. Her panicked expression grows when Nikolai tells her she’s to stay with me, and under no circumstances is she to leave Clarks.

  While my brothers strap AK-47s to their chests and don army paint like real-life motherfucking marines, I crack open a laptop and hack into the Las Vegas PD’s command center. I knew jack shit about computers only a few months ago, but the head operative of the firm Nikolai hired for security showed me a few pointers. Tapping into a scanner radio takes barely ten seconds.

  The bustling space descends into silence when Justine shouts, “I can’t help you if I’m left in the dark! Tell me what’s happening!” She has the eye of everyone in the room, but there’s only one pair she’s seeking. Nikolai’s. “Please, Nikolai. I want to help.”