Frustration eats away at me as the days tick by. I can see the fear consuming Adelina. She’s quiet, keeping to herself. I’ve barely spoken to her since she crept into my bed a few nights ago.

  I watch her from across the gardens. Her back remains to me as she sits on that stone bench overlooking the cliff below. The sun touches the horizon, just starting to dip beneath the ocean. Her hair stirs in the breeze, wild waves reaching out like fingers playing through the wind. She doesn’t move as I approach or when I take the seat next to her. The light bathes her skin in a golden glow, the orange reflecting in her distant gaze like fire.

  “I can’t find him,” I say.

  “I know.” Her words are barely a breath.

  “I will, though.”

  “No, you won’t.” She blinks slowly, and a single drop of moisture falls from her lashes, caressing the smooth skin of her cheek. “What do you do when you’re caught between two seemingly impossible tasks?” she asks.

  I frown, unable to answer that.

  She turns, her eyes meeting mine. “When both things hurt you, when both are bad, but in different ways.”

  I inhale a deep breath. “Life is full of pain, Adelina. It is how we manage it that separates the strong from the weak.” They are words that Nicholai would tell me regularly. Only a weak man allows physical pain to undermine mental strength. I know that’s not what she’s talking about, though.

  She focuses on the sun once more, now almost completely dropped below the horizon. “You won’t find Enrique. He’s thrown down an ultimatum that I have no choice but to comply with because the only way out of it is if he dies.”

  “So, what? You hand yourself over like a good little wife?”

  She closes her eyes on a sigh. “I comply. It’s the only way.”

  “Adelina—”

  She grabs my face and places her lips over mine. It seems sudden and out of the blue, but she’s warm and soft, so innocent and sweet. Like the addict I am, I fall into that blissful high. My hand cups her cheek, sweeping silky strands of hair behind her ear. When she pulls away, tears stain her cheeks.

  “Malyshka?”

  Pushing to her feet, she hurries away, bare feet rushing over the velvety lawn.

  My gut twists, but I don’t follow her.

  The earthy aroma of coffee swirls around me, steam rising from my mug and catching on the bright sunlight that streams through the kitchen windows. I glance at my phone, at the string of texts from Una, one after the other.

  Call me.

  What’s happening?

  When are you coming home?

  I don’t know what to say to her. I can’t tell her Enrique is alive. Not yet. I’m about to kill him, and everyone already believes he’s dead. No need to complicate things. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.

  Footsteps come down the corridor and into the kitchen. Adelina. I can always tell by her gate, as though she’s in a constant hurry. She places her phone on the breakfast bar and slides it beneath my nose. My eyes skim over the message on the screen.

  Your seven days are almost up, principessa. Twenty-four hours. Tick tock.

  “Enrique,” I say his name aloud, though it doesn’t need voicing.

  Adeline chews a thumbnail, her shoulders so tense they’re almost hiked to her ears. On an exhaled breath, I slide the phone back across the breakfast bar.

  “Have you found him yet?”

  “No. He’s not stupid. He gave you seven days. That ultimatum could just as well be for himself. Seven days to kill him. He’s hiding.”

  I can see the anxiety crawling over her. She fears Enrique in a way that only a woman who has suffered his abuse first hand can. Every time I close my eyes, I see him holding her down, taking what she does not give willingly. Killing for me has always been a matter of professionalism. I do not enjoy it; I’m simply good at it. For Enrique Bianchi, I will make an exception. I’ll enjoy every moment of his death, knowing that it was me who ended him.

  “Enrique said…he said I wouldn’t like the consequences if I don’t come to him.” She shakes her head. “I have to go.”

  “No.”

  “What option do I have?” she shouts, her palms slapping against the breakfast bar.

  I push to my feet, my temper spiking in a way only she can induce. “He is controlling you, Adelina. The first threat he makes and you’re ready to buckle.”

  “You don’t know what he’s like! He doesn’t make idle threats.”

  “Men in power rarely do. You tried to kill him, malyshka. Go back there and you are never leaving.”

  She drops her head forward, her expression tortured. “I don’t know what he’ll do if I don’t go. And I’m terrified of what he’ll do to me if I do,” she whispers.

  Stepping forward, I place a finger beneath her chin. Glassy eyes meet mine, and something uncomfortable settles in my chest. “I’ll protect you, malyshka.”

  “You can’t protect me from him,” she chokes.

  “He’s one man. One man with a bullet waiting for him.” I reach out, swiping my thumb over her bottom lip. “Trust me?”

  She sucks in a ragged breath. “I do.”

  “I will find him, and I will kill him, but you need to speak to Gabriella. Warn her. You and I both know that if he wants to hurt you, she’s where he’ll start.”

  She nods, chewing on her lip. “I think it might be better coming from you.”

  I frown. “Why?”

  “Because I’m her little sister. If I tell her she’s in danger, she won’t listen. And…she has a weird rivalry with Enrique. He made a mockery of her. I think she’ll try to stand her ground on principle.”

  “That would be unwise.”

  “I know! Please, just talk to her.” Adelina sighs. “You have her respect. Ever since you rescued her from Enrique."

  Truthfully, I think Gabriella has too much of a chip on her shoulder to listen. Adelina is right. Her sister has developed a rivalry with Bianchi, and she feels she has a point to prove, but she will lose, and right now, her pride puts Adelina in a compromised position.

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  “Thank you.” Adelina places her hand on my chest and pushes onto tiptoes, her lips brushing my cheek. “She’s in the office.”

  I turn and leave the room, making my way to the office.

  Gabriella is sitting at her father’s desk, head bent over a laptop. Jet black hair hangs in front of her face, blocking me from her view. I linger in the doorway a moment before knocking on the wood. Her gaze collides with mine.

  “Sasha?”

  “Gabriella.” I step into the room, and she closes the laptop. “I need to speak with you.”

  Her eyes pinch at the corners ever so slightly. “Okay.”

  I drop into the seat on the other side of the desk. “You need to leave town for a while, Gabriella.”

  Her brows snap together. “What? Why?”

  “Just trust me. You’re not safe here.”

  “Because of Enrique Bianchi?”

  “Yes.”

  She folds her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. “I will not run or hide from that man.”

  I knew this would be difficult, but her childishness has my pulse ticking up. “You have had dealings with him before. Do you really want to be faced with him again?”

  “I’m not scared of him!”

  I fight a smile. “Why are you lying to yourself?”

  A pink tinge meets her cheeks, and her lips press into a flat line before she shoves to her feet. Her palms slam down on the desk with a bang. “I am not my sister! You forget who you’re talking to.”

  I cock a brow. “I don’t care who you are, Gabriella Ricci. Your pride will get you killed, and it will be Adelina who has to pick up the pieces.”

  Her jaw clenches, and I spot the slight tremble in her shoulders. Just when I expect her to have an outburst, there’s a knock on the door. I glance over my shoulder as Lorenzo walks in. His gaze instantly shifts from me to Gabriella on a deep frown.

  “Are you okay, Miss Gabriella?” he asks in Italian as if I don’t understand him.

  “She’s annoyed because I told her she needs to leave town for a while, she’s refusing because she has too much pride for her own good.”

  “I am the head of this family—”

  “That won’t matter when you’re dead.” I cut her off.

  Lorenzo steps farther into the room until he’s shoulder to shoulder with me. “Bianchi?” he asks me.

  I nod.

  He inhales a deep breath, and I can tell he’s gearing himself up for a fight. “The Russian is right. You should leave town.”

  Gabriella glares at him, and I can see she feels betrayed. “I thank you both for your advice. I am not going.”

  I shake my head just as an exasperated sigh slips past Lorenzo’s lips. I’m not a babysitter. Adelina is smarter, braver, and more determined than her sister in every way. Gabrielle Ricci should never have inherited her father’s seat, and this here is exactly why.

  “I won’t leave my sister to face him alone, and I know she won’t leave.”

  I pause.

  Her loyalty, I can understand, even if it is ill-conceived. It seems the Ricci sisters will either rise or fall together.

  My eyes meet hers, a mutual understanding passing between us before I nod. And then I leave the room, knowing Lorenzo won’t let it drop, but he’s wasting his breath. Gabriella won’t go without Adelina, and Adelina, well…that’s a lost cause. The girl doesn’t know when to quit.

  12

  Adelina

  “I won’t leave my sister to face him alone, and I know she won’t leave.”

  My heart plummets when I hear Gabriella’s words, though she’s right, I won’t leave. She needs to though. But if Sasha and Lorenzo can’t convince her, then I stand no chance. I hurry away from the office and into the kitchen. It’s late, and the house has an eerie silence to it. I grab a bottle of wine from the fridge and pour a hefty glass, drinking half of it in only a few gulps.

  The adjoined dining room sits in darkness, the enormous family table a sad reminder of distant memories, times around this table filled with laughter and love—my father, sister, Lorenzo, men that worked for my father but felt more like family when I was growing up. Now, I can’t even remember the last time I was in here. As I sit alone in the darkness, I’m reminded of the fact that I have no one to talk to. No friend to ask for advice. Perhaps Sasha is as close as it gets, and I have to kill him. I have no other choice. If I don’t, who knows what Enrique will do. No, I know what he’ll do, hit me where he thinks it will hurt most. I have nothing left at this point. Except Gabriella. I want to believe that he wouldn’t go after her for political reasons, but I know he has a loophole. She made herself vulnerable after she stole from him. Now, anything he does could be justified by the other families.

  And even if I do kill Sasha, I’ll still have to go to him, a prisoner in a cage of my choosing.

  I lift the glass to my lips and drain it before refilling. Closing my eyes, I hold my head in my hands, trying to think clearly. I can’t though. Tears stream down my cheeks without permission, frustration and pain blending together. I just need to take one step at a time.

  I have to kill Sasha. It was always the plan. I just need more time.

  I want to call Enrique, ask him what he has planned, but there’s no point. He won’t tell me, and he’ll delight in the fact that I asked. He thrives on fear and weakness. I’m left with only one logical conclusion: he’ll hurt Gabi or me. I can’t risk the former. I take a couple more gulps of my wine and put it down. I need to be sober for what comes next.

  The house is dark and quiet as I make my way through it. When I pass the entrance hall, I see a couple of Lorenzo’s men lingering beyond the front door, cigarettes pressed to their lips as they laugh and chat. For a moment, I’m irritated by the fact that they’re able to do something so trivial. I’m jealous that their lives are so…simple.

  When I reach the office, I knock on the door. There’s no answer, so I push it open. Old hinges squeal, and the scent of leather and antique paper greets me beneath the lingering smell of cigar smoke. There hasn’t been a cigar in here since my father died, yet the smell is embedded in the carpet, the walls, the very fabric of the room. In the darkness, the office feels almost holy, like a shrine.

  My footsteps are muted over the worn rug as I round the desk. I swing the picture away from the back wall, revealing the safe behind it. The code has always been my mother’s birthday, for as long as I can remember. With a loud beep, the little red light turns green, and the thick metal door creeks open, revealing the little metal box inside.

  My father’s gun sits on top of a stack of papers, a box of bullets beside it. My fingers wrap around the polished metal, and I smile. He always had this gun on him, and everyone always joked that he looked like some kind of gangster. In a way, he was, I guess. Methodically, I take the bullets from the box and load the clip before sliding it back in with a click. The second the gun is loaded, it feels like a ticking bomb in my hand. I shove it into the back of my jeans and close the safe, ensuring that I don’t leave a trace of my presence. I climb the stairs, listening intently for any signs of life. It’s late though, early hours of the morning. The only people up are the guards outside the house.

  I bypass my own room and head straight for Sasha’s. With each step along the corridor, my heart beats a little harder, and my breaths become more difficult to draw. By the time I reach his door, I’m practically choking on my hammering heart. My hand trembles as I reach for the handle and twist it as quietly as possible. The light from the hallway cuts across the rug for a moment before I silently close the door behind me. Moonlight spills through the window, highlighting his form in the bed. His back is facing me, the sheets pooled over his hips. Silvery light plays over the silhouette of his tight waist and broad shoulders, his ribs rising and falling on each breath.

  I know he knows I’m here. Sasha has the reflexes of a cat and an awareness that’s almost inhuman. Impossible to sneak up on or catch unaware. The perfect predator. An elite soldier.

  But he trusts me. That’s why he hasn’t moved.

  That singular fact has a lump forming in my throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut. He killed my father and lied to me. He’s every bit as bad as Enrique. I repeat the same mantra over and over in my mind until my feet start moving toward the bed. The scent of him wraps around me, mint and fresh linen. My confidence wavers, but I’m losing precious seconds. Any moment now, he’ll roll over, and I will have lost the element of surprise. I should just pull the gun and shoot him, but I don’t. Instead, I crawl onto the mattress, on top of the sheets. Laying my head on the pillow, I feel the warmth of his body. Memories flash through my mind: his arms around me, his body moving over mine. I remember how safe he made me feel, how he vowed to protect me. I can still picture the fierce look in his eyes when he told me that Enrique would never have me.

  I remember the way he loved me, the way I loved him. I’m not sure if it makes it better or worse. I may not have known what he had done, but he did. He let me love him, knowing he had shot my father. And yet…he loved me while knowing what he had done. That would not have come easily for him.

  Reaching out, I hesitate before touching my fingers to his back. His breath hitches ever so slightly, and his muscles tremble beneath my touch. With my free hand, I slowly reach behind my back, gripping the gun tightly. I brace my wrist against my hip steadying my shaking hand as I point the gun at Sasha’s back. The muzzle lingers just inches from him, and I imagine the mess it’ll make if I pull the trigger this close. I have to force myself to breathe normally, though my heart is now beating so fast it feels like it’s rattling my entire frame.

  I just have to…shoot. That’s it. For Gabi. For me. For Daddy. In my head, I’m screaming at myself, but outwardly, there’s only silence. I wonder if he can sense the tension that has my muscles locked down tight. I continue stroking his back with my free hand, and he must be able to feel the tremor.

  My thumb sits over the safety button. I just have to flick it and pull the trigger, and yet I’m frozen. Thoughts fly through my head.

  He killed Daddy.

  He saved you.

  He betrayed you.

  He loved you.

  You loved him.

  You love him.

  You need him.

  I close my eyes, swallow, open them again.

  “Sasha?” I barely breathe.

  “Malyshka,” he whispers into the darkness without moving.

  “Do…do you love me?”

  The silence that follows is deafening, lingering for so long that I feel sick. “Always.”

  One word, and it nearly chokes me. Pain I wasn’t ready for splits my chest wide until I can barely breathe. He loves me, and I hate that he does because there is no happy ending here. I thought he was the white knight in this story, and he was, until he became the monster. The princess doesn’t end up with the monster; she slays him. His love though, that makes everything harder.