by LP Lovell
Nicholai Ivanov is dead.
I stand on the balcony overlooking the gardens below. The sun is just setting, streaking the horizon in a kaleidoscope of colors.
The house is full of people, and I know I should probably talk to them, but truthfully, I’m not ready to broach that. Rafael is still very much my safe haven. I feel a confidence with him that evaporates in the face of so many strange people, specifically men. I don’t know the Italians. I don’t trust them.
A throat clears behind me, and I whirl around, my hand on my chest. Una stands in the balcony doorway like a statue. “You can’t creep up on people like that,” I snap.
A small smile pulls at her lips. “Sorry.”
My heart is still pounding, but it’s not just from shock. I turn away from her, wrapping my fingers around the balcony railing in an attempt to root myself. I don’t want to deal with Una and my turbulent emotions towards her. I just want to stay in my little bubble with Rafael, where my sister is still a traitor to me, and nothing else matters but him and me. But watching her kill Nicholai…I know that it’s not as black and white as it may have seemed.
She moves beside me, bracing her elbows on the railing. “I looked for you. For so long. I’d all but given up hope of ever finding you,” she says quietly. “And then Nero asked me to do a job, and he shoved a photo of you in my face.” I don’t respond, because I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. She sighs. “Do you hate me?”
“I hate what you’ve been forced to become. The sister I remember is gone.”
“You’re not the innocent, fragile child you once were either.”
“Innocent? No. Fragile…”
“You’re wrong. I wouldn’t have survived that. What Nicholai did was hard and brutal, but I wouldn’t have survived sex slavery.”
“I didn’t,” I say, more to myself than her. If it weren’t for Rafael, I’d still be that ghost, wondering. Lost.
A frown pinches her features. “I’m sorry, I cut your finger off. If I hadn’t, Nicholai would have sensed my loyalty to you, and he never would have let you go.”
“I thought you were going to save me.” I laugh humorlessly. “I should have known better.”
She closes her eyes for a beat, pain crossing her features. “I did everything I could,” she whispers. “And when I failed, I gave Rafael the means to get you out.” What does that mean?
“It’s okay,” I say. None of this is okay though, is it? Maybe it never truly will be. Or perhaps we’ll be fine. Can anyone truly recover from the kind of lives we’ve lived? “What will you do now Nicholai is dead?”
“People always need killing.” God, that sounds so cold. “What about you, Anna? What’s your purpose?”
“Purpose?”
“Everyone needs one, little sister. Without it, we’re just…existing. Mine was working for Nicholai. Then it was ending Nicholai. And now…I’ll have to find one.”
“Do you feel better?” I ask. “Killing the man who put you through so much misery…did it…does it make it better?”
“Are you asking me? Or are you asking for yourself?”
My fingers tighten on the railing, and I drop my head forward. “Sometimes, I get so angry I can barely breathe. Because while I’m here, struggling just to survive, unable to sleep because of the nightmares, disgusted…they’re out there doing exactly the same thing to another girl.”
She suddenly stills, her head tilting to the side before her gaze snaps toward a point in the darkness. She steps in front of me and has her gun in hand in the blink of an eye. Seconds pass before I hear the squealing of tires coming from the direction of the main gate. She turns and walks back inside.
“Stay in here. Lock the doors.” She hurries from the room, but I’m not staying in here. I step into the hallway, passing the bloodstains that still mar the carpets from the Elite assault. There are people everywhere when I get downstairs. I glance around frantically, seeking Rafael out. A hand slides across the back of my neck, and I spin around, coming face to face with Rafael’s massive chest.
“Avecita.”
“Rafe, what’s going on?”
“A car just dropped something at the gate. Carlos has gone to check it out.”
“Carlos…what if it’s a bomb?”
“Why do you think he’s taking so long?”
I groan. I can’t take this kind of stress.
He pulls me to his chest, pressing his lips to my hair. I melt against him, pressing my cheek to his massive chest. From the shelter of his arms, I spot Una standing across the lobby watching us. Her brows are knitted together, her lips pressed into a flat line.
Carlos and another guy stagger inside, a massive plastic box between them. Rafael moves over to them, but I hang back, leaning against the stairway banister. Rafael, Samuel, Nero, Gio, and Carlos all crowd around as the lid hits the ground with a clatter.
And then there’s utter silence before someone takes a choked breath; a singular sound that rips through the air. I watch Rafael’s entire body tense beneath his shirt, his fists tightening at his side. He walks away without a word, Samuel chasing after him.
I step forward, needing to see what’s in that box that has Rafael so angry.
Someone steps in front of me, and I look up into Carlos’ shadowy features. “No, Anna,” he says, so gently it scares me. He looks desolate, his features morphed by grief.
“Who is it?” I know someone has to be dead. He shakes his head. “Is it Lucas?” My voice hitches, reaching a point of hysteria.
I try to move past him, but he grabs both my arms. “It’s Maria and her family.”
Maria. Someone just killed the woman who was like a second mother to Rafael, to all the guys. The woman who cared for me without question when I had no one.
I close my eyes, tears breaking free. Poor Rafael.
53
Rafael
I understand why Anna would want to go to a place where she can’t feel. This is an agony I hoped to never feel again, but this grief is every bit as raw and helpless as when Violet died.
Maria helped raise Samuel, Carlos, and I. She was a constant. A warm presence on a cold night. When Violet died, she made food for my mother and me. She dragged us both through it. The woman was an angel, a force of nature, and she should have been untouchable.
And to kill her two sons as well…it’s too much, too far.
I know this is Dominges. He wanted to make a declaration of war, well now he has. This city is about to run red with Sinaloa blood.
My rage is so intense, swirling and mixing with the sheer pain of Maria’s loss until I can barely breathe. I seek out Anna if only to lessen this hurt for a moment.
It’s late, and she’s already asleep by the time I find her in our room, but even her presence is enough to soothe the ragged, burning edges of my tattered heart.
I sit on the bed next to her and prop my back against the headboard. Anna rolls over, gravitating towards me the way she always does.
“Rafe?” she whispers into the darkness.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, placing her head on my chest and wrapping her arm around me. There’s nothing else to say, nothing either of us can say.
I wait until Anna’s breaths are deep and even before slipping away from her and getting off the bed. I have work to do. Leaving the room, I quietly pull the bedroom door shut. When I turn around, I run straight into Una.
“Shit.” Jesus, she’s like a ghost.
“You should pay more attention. Perhaps then your cartel would be in a better state.” She cocks a brow and walks off down the hallway before stopping at the end. “Come. You and I need to talk.”
I’m not in the mood for this, but when it comes to her, it’s not like I have much choice. I follow her along the hallway and down the stairs. She makes her way to my office, letting herself in like she owns the place. I close the door and take a seat at my desk. She takes the seat across from me, kicking her feet up on the des
k.
“You said no one knew where this house was,” she says.
“They don’t.”
“And yet, a box of severed heads was just personally delivered to your gate.” She glances at her perfectly painted nails as though bored of the conversation already.
“I’m handling it.” Her accusation has my temper whipping through me like a tornado.
“You can’t handle anything.” She snorts. “Anna isn’t safe here. She needs to come with me.”
I always knew I’d be having this conversation with her at some point, but I can’t deal with this right now. “Anna is perfectly capable of deciding where she wants to go. She’s a grown woman.” And she’s mine. No one is taking her from me, not even the angel of death.
“That—” She points out to the hallway. “Was a declaration of war from a man who already managed to nearly take her once. Or did you think I didn’t hear about that?” I say nothing. “I have ears everywhere. Every move you make, I see it, I hear about it.”
“Good for you.”
She takes a knife from a thigh sheaf and starts flipping it through her fingers. “You can’t keep her safe. Not from Nicholai and not from Dominges.” Her eyes lock with mine. “Not from your nature. You are the very essence of the cartel. Power and violence is the fabric of your existence.”
I grit my teeth. “You don’t know me.”
“I know enough.” She pushes to her feet and bends over the desk, bracing her palms against the wood. “You and I are creatures of the dark. But my sister is still light, despite everything, she’s still good.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“You’re drawn to it. I see the way you look at her like she’s a fire on a cold night.”
“You may not understand this, but I love her.” I need her, now more than ever.
“And yet, you would pull her into the dark. You would endanger her.”
“Never.”
“Then let her go,” she growls. “If you truly loved her, you would send her to safety.” Her words burrow beneath my skin like a parasite, but I know Anna better than she does. Anna might be goodness and light in my world, but her life has been so tainted by everything that’s happened to her.
“I tired. She loves me as much as I love her, and I won’t force her.”
She shakes her head and looks me up and down. “Have ever considered that she might only think she loves you? You started as her captor. She’s never been free. You’re just the first man that hasn’t raped her as soon as he’s set eyes on her.” Disgust curls in my gut.
“No. Don’t do that.”
“What? Tell you the truth? You know I’m right. She needs to come with me.”
“She’s free to do what she wants.” Anna hates her sister. She won’t go with her.
“You know she won’t leave you without a push.”
I swipe a hand down my face. “What would you have me do, Una? Just spell it out.”
“Set her free. Truly free. And if she really does love you, she’ll come back to you eventually.” Her eyes lock with mine. “I seek only to make her strong and give her purpose. I can help her.”
"You ask too much.”
“I ask you to be selfless.”
“I love her!” I roar, so loud that it sets my pulse pounding against my eardrums.
A small smile touches her lips, though her eyes are sad. “I know,” she whispers. “But I know better than anyone that if you love something, you sometimes have to let it go.”
Standing upright, she turns on her heel and walks to the door. “If you’d let Maria go, she and her sons might still be alive.” Opening the door, she leaves. And in her wake, I’m left with a crippling guilt. She and her sons might still be alive.
She’s right. My world, it’s toxic. And it will kill Anna the same way it killed Maria.
54
Anna
I wake up to the feel of warm breath over my back. Fingers trail over my arm so gently that goosebumps rise on my skin. I roll over, blinking my eyes open to find Rafael watching me. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are bloodshot as though he’s been awake most of the night. I can smell the faint waft of whiskey on his breath. I lift my hand, tracing my thumb over the dark shadows lingering beneath his eyes.
“You need to sleep.”
“I can’t. Everything is broken.” He takes my hand and brushes his lips over my knuckles. “Everything except this.” I’ve never seen him look so defeated.
“Then just pretend nothing else exists for a minute.”
He cups my cheek, dark eyes studying my face as though committing it to memory. “I wish I could.”
Something is very wrong. I can feel it, like the hand of death reaching from him to me. “Rafe?”
“Nero and Una are leaving today.”
“Okay…”
He closes his eyes for a moment, his lips pressing into a tight line. “You should go with them,” he says, so quietly I can’t be sure I heard him right.
“What?”
“You heard me. You aren’t safe here. I’ve been selfish—”
“No.” I sit bolt upright, my heart racing in my chest as I stare down at him. He wants to send me away and my heart squeezes painfully at the thought. “What happened to Maria…I’m sorry, but—”
“Dominges isn’t stopping.” He cuts me off, his voice cold and distanced. “Nero and Una no longer have the Russians to contend with…” He rolls onto his back and drags both hands through his hair. “You’ll be safe there.”
“For how long? Surely there will be retribution for Nicholai? He’s part of the Bratva.”
“Nero will ensure their drug and gun supply resumes. They aren’t going to get in a fight over one man when their business is back on track.”
“So, that’s it. You just give up?” He says nothing and any sense of calm dissipates. Anger rises to the surface, driven by the pain of his rejection. I slap his chest. “No. You don’t get to just pick me up and drop me when you feel like it.” I slap him again and again, until my palm stings and tears blind me. I go to strike him again, and he finally lets out a feral growl, grabbing my throat and forcing me onto my back. His weight falls on top of me, crushing me against the mattress.
“This isn’t me dropping you. This is me protecting you. This is me doing the right thing because I fucking love you. More than anyone or anything.” He’s so close that his lips brush mine. “I will not open another box to find your head in it. I can’t.” His voice breaks. “So, please don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“What about what I want?” I choke. “Doesn’t that matter?”
He sighs, stroking his fingers over my cheek. “No. Because you’re in danger.”
“I’m safe with you,” I whisper.
“I’m sure Maria thought the same.” And with those few words, I know I’ve lost him. He’s blinded by grief, and he’s scared. I can see it in his eyes. If someone can get to Maria, they can get to me, but I don’t care. The thought of leaving him has an empty void opening up in my chest. I can’t. I won’t survive it.
“Please don’t do this,” I beg, my voice breaking right along with my heart because I know what’s coming. “I need you.”
“No, you don’t.”
I grip a handful of his hair, wishing I could hold him to me. “I love you.”
“I love you too, more than you know. You can come back when it’s safe.” But he doesn’t believe that, and if what he says is true, it’ll never be safe.
“What happened to ride or die?” I ask, my voice breaking.
He closes his eyes for a moment and then opens them again. “I won’t watch you die, avecita. I know what it feels like to lose you.”
This isn’t a fight I’m going to win. I know Rafael. I can see he’s decided, and there will be no going back. Tears sting my eyes, and I rush to the bathroom before he can see them fall.
I turn the shower on, allowing the sound of the cascading water to drown out my so
bs. It hurts. So much. But I’ve survived far worse than this. I try to remember the girl I was before him, the hard, broken girl with no hope. She was miserable and fractured, but her heart was her own, and that made her untouchable. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I focus on that feeling, the pain, the rejection…and I shove it down deep. I reach for that part of myself, that numb absence, the complete lack of feeling. It’s harder than I thought it would be without some form of abuse to induce it. Why abandon me now though, when I’m in the most pain? Closing my eyes, I do something I rarely do; I recall my past. Every horrible act, every disgusting man. That cold indifference falls over my mind like a blanket: protective and comforting, and I cling to it.
Rafael just closed his palm around the fragile little ember of my heart. He snuffed me out, and now I’m left with nothing but the cold and the dark.
Una is waiting by the front door when I walk down the stairs. Her eyes flick over my face, her brows pulling together.
“Where’s Rafael?” she asks.
Pain lances through my chest, threatening my impenetrable bubble. “I don’t know.” I walk past her and open the front door.
“Anna!” I glance over my shoulder and find Lucas. “You’re leaving?”
“I’m going to New York with my sister.”
“You weren’t going to say goodbye?” He looks so hurt.
“I’m saying it now.”
He throws his arms around my waist and pulls me close. “You’re coming back, right?”
“Maybe.” I know I won’t be though. It hurts too much.
“I’ll miss you,” he whispers and releases me. Emotion threatens to break loose, and I know I can’t handle it, so I offer him a small smile and turn away.