Chapter 164 164

Chapter 164 164
Camila bites her lip and nods. “Go on. Have fun.”

With a clap of her hands, she’s off. We watch as Mama grabs her hand and forces her to slow to a quick walk while Bogdan follows behind them after throwing me a wink.

“I have to say,” Camila tells me, “you stick out in the outside world.”

“No shit,” I agree, catching another look from a passing couple.

“It’s a compliment.”

I snort. “I don’t need fucking compliments. Never did.”

“Right, of course. Sometimes, I forget I’m talking to the mighty Isaak Vorobev. You don’t need anything from anyone, do you?”

I grab her hand and pull her up to her feet. “That’s not true,” I remark slyly as I pull her through the crowd. “There are some things I need. From one person in particular.

I can practically feel her pulse racing in her fingertips as she follows me blindly through the crowd.

“Isaak, where are we going? Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere where we’ll have only each other’s stares to contend with,” I tell her. “And once we’re there, I’m going to tell you exactly what I need from you.”

35

CAMILA

“The house of mirrors?” I ask as he pulls me towards the entrance.

“All the better to see you in,” he chuckles darkly.

It’s mostly a joke, but one part isn’t—this Little Blonde Riding Hood is about to get devoured by the biggest, baddest wolf in existence.

As we step up to the entrance, the crowd fades away. No one is here besides a dour-faced carnie who waves us in. Suppressing a smile, I cling to Isaak’s hand as he tows us into the darkness.

It’s cooler in here than it was outdoors. The light glints off a few shards of mirror in this first little antechamber. Half a dozen doors open up onto hallways that wind into the depths of the building.

Isaak strides to the left-hand door like he knows where he’s headed.

“Where exactly are we going?”

“Somewhere quiet.”

We step through the door and he pulls it shut behind us. I turn around and my jaw drops immediately.

There are mirrors everywhere: above, below, left, right. We’re walking on mirrors and looking up at mirrors and no matter which direction I turn, I see two, ten, fifty versions of us.

“This is weird,” I murmur.

Isaak glances back at me. “I guess normal people like to make excitement where there is none.”

“Hey, everyone gets their thrills a different way. Most people like their thrills risk-free.”

“Do you?”

I pause before answering that question. I would have answered immediately a few days ago: Hell no.

But after my chat with Nikita, I have to think about it.

In so many ways, she saw what I’ve turned a blind eye to. So much about the last six years was completely out of my control. But some things happened that were solely my decision.

And just as she’s pointed out, I hadn’t made the safest choices. I justified and rationalized and excused the things I picked.

But when it came down to it, I picked danger.

Again.

And again.

And again.

“If you have to think that hard,” says Isaak, “I think we know your answer.”

I sigh. “I’m trying to figure myself out.”

“You haven’t done that already?”

“No, asshole. It’s a work-in-progress.” I punch his arm and my knuckles actually hurt. “Jesus, are you made of stone or something?”

He smirks seductively. “Parts of me, maybe.”

I roll my eyes and suppress a giggle as he pulls me into another room.

Whereas the mirrors in the first place were all flat and standard, the ones in here are bent and curvy. There’s a fat Camila and an impossibly skinny one, one where my head is on Isaak’s shoulders and his head is floating in space.

“I take back what I said before. This is super creepy.”

I raise my hand. All of my reflections follow suit. Isaak comes up behind me, his eyes raking up and down the mirror images.

When he steps up beside me, the two of us are reflected back and forth between opposing reflective surfaces. A hundred, a million of us, stretching on forever into the receding distance. It’s creepy, yes—but also kind of awe-inspiring, in the strangest way.

“Is this what infinity looks like?” I whisper. It feels like the air has chilled further.

“There’s no such thing as infinity,” Isaak growls. “There’s only here and now. Nothing else.”

“Is that why you’re so fearless?” I ask. “Because you’re not worrying about the future?”

He nods. “Why worry about something you can’t influence? I choose to spend my time focusing on what I can control.”

“I’ve noticed.”

He smirks. “Mock me all you want. My stakes are higher. If I lose control—even for a second—people die.”

I frown. “That’s not an exaggeration, is it?”

“No, kiska, it’s not.”

I exhale deeply, trying to wrap my head around what’s to come. I realize I’m falling into the trap, thinking about things I can’t change. But I’m not sure I have Isaak’s discipline.

“I don’t know how you do it,” I tell him.

“I’m a different creature than you, Camila,” he says. “From the moment I was a thought in my mother’s womb, my future was mapped out for me. Even before my father became the Vorobev don, I was always going to be someone. I was always going to be Bratva.”

“So you don’t regret it then?” I ask. “You don’t wish it could be different?”

He raises his eyebrows as though the very thought of regret is a foreign concept to him. “Regret gets you nowhere.”

“I wish I had the same perspective you do.”

“Do you?”

I look away to try and keep the blush from tainting my cheeks. “I just… I wish I didn’t live in my head so much.”

He smiles. “We all have our coping mechanisms.”

“What’s yours?”

He considers that for a moment. “Alcohol.”

I snort. “Typical.”

“Fighting.”

“Predictable.”