Chapter 132 132

Chapter 132 132
I frown. My mouth is dry and my eye sockets feel like they’re stuffed full of cotton. “My head hurts.”

“I’m sorry for that,” he says. “It’ll subside in a bit. The gas affects some people strongly.”

“Where is Geneva? And Sara?” I croak through a sandpaper throat. I cast around to check the corners, but we’re the only two in this room.

“Both safe,” he assures me. “Don’t worry.”

“I do worry,” I snap. “Where’s Kolya?”

He looks amused by the question. “How should I know? Contrary to popular opinion, I don’t follow my brother around.”

I pat my pocket for my phone, but it’s empty. The last thing I remember is pressing send on my text.

I hope it went through.

I pray it did.

“Is he out there looking for me?” Adrian asks. “Hope he doesn’t look too hard.” He cackles and slaps his knee like he’s told a hilarious joke.

I feel nauseous.

“What have you done, Adrian?” I whisper.

He shrugs his broad shoulders in a gesture that looks perversely like his brother. It makes me want to cringe, that I could find anything remotely similar about them now.

Adrian senses my disgust. “What’s the matter, Junepenny?” he asks. “Can’t look me in the eye anymore?”

“I know too much about you now.”

There can be no mistaking the disappointment in my voice. Of course, Adrian doesn’t miss it. I can see it in the way his entire face seems to pull together, making his eyes turn dark and his forehead crease with anger. He stands up and takes a step towards the bed.

I immediately push myself away from him, though there isn’t far to go on this skinny little mattress. He freezes in place, the muscles in his jaw churning hard.

“We can still make a go of this, June,” he says. “We can still be a family.”

“We were never a family to begin with, Adrian. You were just using me.”

He narrows his eyes. “I fucking loved you.”

“No,” I fire back, “you didn’t love me. I was a crutch. A security blanket. And if there was ever a time where I needed something from you in return—well, those were the times you swung your fists, weren’t they?” I touch my cheek where the memory of the night he cut me open still stings.

“Jesus,” he mutters. “They’ve well and truly turned you, haven’t they?”

“You killed Milana,” I say softly. “You murdered her, Adrian.”

“It… it had to be done.” His jaw hardens and I wonder for a moment if he regrets it. Then he shakes his head and any trace of vulnerability disappears. “You wouldn’t get it. Too fucking naive. You were always too fucking naive.”

I can see him now. The real Adrian. The one I pretended didn’t exist for the longest time. The one I was convinced was a product of trauma and liquor.

But he’s sober now, so I can’t blame that. The smell of booze that I associate with painful year after painful year is gone. There’s just sweat, and blood, and the stale stench of overpowering aftershave that’s attempting to bury the truth beneath a sweet, minty lie.

“I was always a lot of things, Adrian,” I tell him, realizing that his words don’t have the power to hurt me anymore. “You just never cared to find out.”

He prowls closer to the bed, but this time, I stay where I am. I don’t want him to think I’m scared.

Because I’m not. Not the way I once was. He’s just a miserable, petty little man. No wonder he feels the need to destroy his brother. It’s the only way he can feel like a real man.

“How much did my brother find out?” he asks. “About you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m asking if you’ve fucked him.”

I have a feeling that answering his question honestly might come at the expense of my safety. But I dig down deep and find my tongue, alongside my courage.

“Again and again and again,” I say without shame. “And I loved every single minute of it.”

Anger flashes across his eyes like heat lightning. He jerks forward and grabs me by the ankles. I stifle a scream as he drags me across the bed towards him.

He positions himself right between my legs, forcing my dress up to expose my thighs. “Then maybe I should fuck those memories right out of you.”

He wants me to scream, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. “Adrian, I’m still carrying your baby,” I say softly. “I’m carrying your daughter. Is this really the imprint you want to leave on both of us?”

His face darkens and his grip tightens around my legs. I cringe in pain but I refuse to look away from him. I want him to see the judgment in my eyes.

He digs his nails in, and just as the tears are being squeezed from my eyes, as the pain becomes almost too much to bear, he throws my legs to the side and walks away from me like an enraged bull.

“Fine,” he seethes as he stomps to the exit. “You’re choosing him? Fine. You’ll get him. I’ll drop his bloodied corpse at your feet and you can say your vows to it.”

I expect him to slam the door on me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leaves it wide open.

“She’s made her choice,” he tells whoever is waiting on the other side. “Take her.”

50

KOLYA

I drop a pin on the GPS when I’m almost inside the house, then I tuck my phone away. I crawl through an open window and land on a foul-smelling carpet.

The maid has her back to me. She’s busy polishing the silver and humming a lackluster tune under her breath. I slither on my belly like a snake until I’m right beside her. When I’m close enough, I jump to my feet and clamp a hand down over her mouth.

She cries out into my palm. I just clamp down harder and draw her into my body.

“If you make a sound, you’re dead,” I warn her. “Nod if you understand me.”

She does as she’s told, shuddering the entire time. When I’m confident she’ll comply, I release my hand and spin her around to face me. She’s old, sixty or more, with limpid fear in her eyes.

“Where’s your boss?”

“U-upstairs, sir,” she stammers.

“Is he alone?”

“I-I-I… don’t k-know…”

“Take a deep breath,” I say. “Tell me what I want to know and you have nothing to worry about.”

She gulps and nods again. This time, when she speaks, her voice is mostly understandable. “H-he’s upstairs. I think he’s alone.”

“Did any unexpected visitors come by in the last few hours?” Her eyes go wide, and I take the tiniest of steps towards her. “Remember what I told you.”

“I saw some g-girls being brought in,” she admits. “B-but… that happens all the time.”

Yeah, I fucking bet it does. “Are they upstairs with him?”

“They were taken to the… to the rooms.”

“Describe them to me and you’re free to go.”

“Second floor. The ones with the red doors.”

I give her a nod of thanks and draw my gun. She clenches up in fear, but I jerk my head toward the window. “I’d leave if I were you,” I advise her. “Things will only get uglier from here.”

Then I turn to leave. Just before I go, I pause at the threshold, look back over my shoulder, and place a finger against my lips.