Chapter 18

With that thought firmly embedded in my brain, I decide it’s time to officially return to my own room. Not even to take a bath; just to make sure I stay on my side of the house and Demyen stays in his.

I make my way to the door, but I stop when I see a small bookcase against the wall that I hadn’t noticed when I came in. There’s a set of photos arranged on the top shelf, the first personal touch I’ve seen in this whole house.

The first photo is of a smiling little boy holding a weathered soccer ball, his face streaked with dirt. Even with all the smudges and the years erased, I can see Demyen’s eyes glittering on that sweet face. He looks so happy, so carefree.

Oh, Demyen. What happened to you?

Adulthood, probably. We all grow up and the smile fades. Even when Demyen smiles now, it seems like a stiff mask compared to the little boy’s grin in the photo.

I set the frame down and pick up the next one. It’s Demyen again, a few years older, but no less happy and playful. He looks like he’s around sixteen, in the heart of adolescence, and my heart flutters. Had we been in the same school at the same time, I would have crushed hard on him. The way his hair falls into his eyes, the way his teeth sparkle behind that wide, boyish grin… And again, I find myself wondering what our kids would look like.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid Clara.

I’m about to set this frame down, too, when I notice the guy next to him. They’re arm-in-arm, laughing together, and clearly related.

And just like that, everything changes.

My blood runs cold.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck.

I almost drop the photo, but I quickly catch it and set it back on the shelf.

Now, I don’t just walk out of the study, I run.

I need to find Willow.

I need to grab what little belongings we have and get the hell out of here.

Maybe Bambi will take us back into town. Maybe she’ll agree to take us shopping and I’ll give her the slip once we’re in a large enough crowd.

Or maybe I’ll hotwire a car and crash my way out of here.

I don’t know what the plan is going to be, but I know I have to settle on one before I reach Willow. She’ll wonder what’s wrong, and I don’t want her to accidentally set off any alarms or let anyone know that… that I know.

Willow is with Bambi in her new room, towel-dried and wearing one of Bambi’s tank tops tied at the back of her neck like a little sundress. They’re laughing and playing a clapping game that keeps tangling after every few tries. I almost don’t want to interrupt her fun. In a lifetime of violent chaos, she deserves this moment of happiness. Like a little oasis in the middle of endless desert.

But maybe that’s just life, you know?

Maybe it’s all just sun-beaten sand and jagged rocks and cacti that steal all the water away and stab you with their thorns if you get tangled up with them.

I shake my head and focus.

We need to get the fuck out of here.

“Hi, Mommy!” Willow grins at me and waves at where I’m standing in the doorway.

“She’s quite the natural swimmer!” Bambi rubs her head and straightens, smiling at me. That smile fades when she sees my face. “Clara? What’s wrong?” Everything.

But I can’t tell her that. So I think of the first excuse that sounds plausible. “I… er, nothing.” I force a smile and return Willow’s wave. “I’m just tired. I’ll be next door if you need me.”

“Okay, Mommy!”

Bambi doesn’t buy my bullshit. I can see it in her eyes. But she doesn’t stop me, either. She just smiles, nods, and assures me that they’ll be fine.

I wish I could believe her.

But I know that I can’t. I can’t trust her, and I definitely can’t trust Demyen. I realize, with an agony in my chest that threatens to turn into a sob, that I should have never trusted Demyen in the first place. If I’d been smart enough to be wary, I wouldn’t ever have fallen into his trap.

This is all a trap. This home. His protection. His affection.

He’s lured me into his prison, and it’s only a matter of time before he reveals his true colors. His true intent. His true plans.

This is his prison, and I am his prisoner.

My daughter, my sweet innocent daughter, is caught up in his snare.

And it’s all my fault.

15

DEMYEN

“Stop smiling. You’re scaring me.”

I roll my eyes at my sarcastic second-in-command, but I refuse to wipe the grin from my face. “I’ve got her,” I explain. “I’ve finally found her.”

Pavel slowly turns his swivel chair in place as he lets it sink in. Then he spins, sudden and swift, to gape at me. “Her? You mean…? No. No. No fucking way.”

I nod. “She’s at home. Right now.”

“At home? Your home?” When he sees my nod, he claps a hand over his mouth and laughs. “This is huge!” He instantly sobers up and tilts his head to one side. “Did you tell Hudson?”

I snort and flip a pen between my fingers. “Of course I told Hudson. He’s the first person I called, after I got her settled in.”

Pavel rubs a hand over his face, then peers at me. “Does her father know?”

At the mention of that soulless bastard, my mood instantly sours. “No. I don’t think he does.”

“You don’t ‘think’ he does?”

“Clara hasn’t exactly been on speaking terms with her father, from what I gathered.” I remember her mild threat this morning. She lobbed it at me like she really is Daddy’s Precious Angel, but I knew better then and I know better now.

There’s no way a doting father would allow his daughter to live in such a deplorable state. To be treated so terribly by any man, let alone one he works with.

That’s one of the first things I did once I left the compound: I took Clara’s threat to mind and ran background checks on both her ex, Martin, and her father, Detective Greg Everett.

The same Detective Greg Everett who arrested my brother.

He’s high in the ranks now, calling the shots at LVPD and taking huge, all-cash salaries under the table from various crime families across the city. The Italian dons I spoke with estimated a good ten thousand dollars per overlooked hit was the going rate; even more for circumvention around the skin trade. His protégé and now-partner is none other than Martin Patterson— Clara’s so-called “husband” and Willow’s deadbeat father.

Everyone she knows is tied up in this shit.

I haven’t met Patterson, but I already hate him. I loathe him when I think of that kid and the hell he must have put her through. I hated Greg Everett from the moment he slapped cuffs on Tolya, but now that I’ve confirmed that he probably knew about what Martin was doing to his own daughter and looked the other way…