I glance toward Mila and Dima. Then the three of us rush headlong to the front gate.

  74

  ILARION

  When they roll the corpse onto its back, I see a face I recognize: Oleg, a low-level intermediary for the Bratva. His eyes are lifeless, his throat slit wide, his shirt soaked in blood.

  “Search him,” I instruct my men. “There’s a message in this.”

  Dima pushes the guards out of the way and starts patting down the body himself. Just inside the left breast pocket of his suit is exactly what I was expecting to find. He hands it to me.

  I tear open the seal and read through the contents. It’s fairly predictable, but I don’t doubt its sincerity. It’s practically carved into the paper with a furious pen. I can almost imagine Benedict’s face as he scrawled the note.

  I will destroy you and everything you hold dear. I will burn your Bratva to the ground and I will dance on top of the ashes and laugh.

  But before I do any of that, I will first come for everyone you love.

  I will flay that fucking right-hand man of yours, cut him up into dozens of tiny little bits, and scatter them to the wind.

  I will take your sister, solder a collar around her neck and cuffs on her wrists, and she will spend the rest of her life spreading her legs for me and carrying my bastards.

  And as for that pretty little fiancée of yours? I will give her the death I once reserved for you after I’ve fucked her to pieces. She will scream so loud that no matter where you are, you’ll hear it.

  But don’t worry, my friend: I won’t kill you.

  I’ll just make you wish I did.

  I pass the note over to Dima and Mila and they read it together. Dima’s face twists with disgust. Mila’s is iron, but I know her well enough to see less stoic emotions churning beneath the surface.

  As ironic as it is, something about Benedict’s letter calms me. Maybe it’s the fact that of all the people he mentioned, Taylor wasn’t one of them.

  If only the bastard had a fucking clue.

  “He certainly has a flair for the dramatics,” Dima calmly says, crushing the letter in his fist once they’ve read it.

  Mila looks at me. “He’s going to be a threat to all of us until he dies, Ilarion.”

  “I know,” I assure her. “Which is why he’s going to die. Soon.”

  75

  TAYLOR

  I race up the stairs, but when I get to the medical ward, I pause. My hand trembles over the doorknob before I finally bully myself enough to push it open.

  They don’t realize I’m there at first. Dad’s hunched back obstructs Celine’s face. He’s clasping her hand in both of his and murmuring something in that soft, calm voice he used to use when we were kids.

  It’s amazing how quickly that voice transports me. Back to a time when I still had a mother. Back to a childhood when there were no secrets between my sister and me.

  Long before I carried her future husband’s baby in my belly.

  Dad’s scent is still cotton and soap, despite the fact that he’s in new clothes that are definitely not his. They’re too fitted, too bland.

  But he smells like my father, and that’s all that matters.

  “Dad?”

  He doesn’t hear me. He just goes on talking to Celine, so I try again.

  “Dad.”

  Cee hears me first. As she frees her hand out from underneath Dad's, I frown, wondering what I just walked in on. There’s a look in her eyes that bothers me.

  He catches on a moment later. He swings around and leaps up, almost toppling the chair he’s sitting on. “Taylor! Thank God—you’re okay!”

  “Of course I’m okay,” I say. “Are you okay?”

  He sighs and his hands go limp on my shoulders. “I’ve been better.”

  It’s not like Dad to admit something like that, no matter how true. I look past him to my sister. The motorized bed is helping her sit upright. She’s lost weight, same as Dad, but unlike him, she’s wearing a smile.

  “Heya, kiddo,” she croaks through a voice dusty with disuse. “Where’ve you been?”

  I lunge over to take the seat Dad just vacated. “Hi,” I breathe, taking Celine’s hand and holding onto Dad at the same time. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you’re awake. Are you okay? How do you feel?”

  “Like I’ve been sleeping for a hundred years,” she jokes. “But Dr. Baranov says that’s just the drugs.”

  “You look good.”

  She laughs weakly. “Don’t lie to me. I look like a donkey’s ass.”

  “Nonsense,” Dad chimes in. He clamps onto Celine’s wrist so the three of us form a tight circle. “Where is your mother? I’ve been asking about her, but no one seems to have an answer.”

  I tense up. They’re both holding onto me, so they feel my fear ripple through them.

  “Taylor?” Celine frowns. “Why did your face just do that?”

  I have no idea what my face just did, and I’m not interested in asking, either. “Dad, why don’t you sit down?”

  He shakes his head even as he goes pale. “I’ll stand. What’s going on?”

  I open my mouth to explain, but instead of the calm, coherent lie I planned on telling, a broken sob comes out. “It’s… She…”

  “She was hurt, wasn’t she?” Dad’s voice bristles with rage. “Your mother was hurt in the crossfire between two very dangerous families. Families that we should stay far away from!”

  I haven’t heard him like this in a long time. Maybe not ever. I knew he wasn’t exactly a fan of Celine’s engagement, but something had been holding him back.

  And I’m guessing that something was Mom.

  “Dad…” Celine swallows and winces. “I’m sorry. I should have told you who Ilarion really was. But I just wanted you to get to know him first, before I—”

  “Wait,” he interrupts. “Are you telling me…you…you knew he was a Bratva don when he proposed to you?”

  Her hesitation is all the answer he needs.

  “Goddammit, Celine!” he cries, throwing his hands up in the air. “Did I teach you girls nothing?”

  “You taught us only to be scared!” Celine hisses. “I didn’t want to be scared anymore.”

  “Sometimes, it’s justified!” he yells back at her.

  “Stop!” I interrupt, unable to take the fighting anymore. Don’t they both realize how lucky we are to be here at all?

  “Sometimes, it’s more important to be safe than happy,” Dad snaps.

  “That’s a ridiculous thing to say. Mom disagreed with that, too, you know. She would have—”

  “Mom’s gone!”

  The room falls deathly silent. Celine opens her mouth to ask a question I can’t run from. But then she closes it again. Finally, after a long moment… “What do you mean?”

  I blink and a tear rolls down my cheek. Dad understands me before Celine, because he slumps into the chair and stares at me with blank disbelief.

  “No…” he murmurs. “No. No.”

  Celine looks at Dad, and then back at me. “Taylor, what do you mean?” Her voice grows frantic. “Where is Mom?”

  I grab her hand. “She’s gone, Cee. I… I buried her over a week ago.”

  “B-buried?” she stammers, her eyes trembling with horror. “No, no… That’s not possible.”

  “If it’s any consolation, it was…” It was horrible. “It was her choice.”

  “No!” Dad jumps back up on his feet. “How dare you say that? How dare you even suggest that she wanted to…to…”

  But his words fade as he looks at me. He knows it’s true. She told me she’d been suffering for so long. I don’t doubt she’d told Dad even more than that.

  “She suffered these last few years, Dad. You know that. She wasn’t happy, and for some people, happiness means more than safety and stability. It did to her.”

  Fuck. I can’t have Ilarion and those issues rearing up in the middle of this. But the moment I say the words to Dad, I can already feel myself eating them right back.

  He shakes his head. “It’s not possible,” he says. “She wouldn’t just… Not without…”

  He keeps mumbling to himself. More denials, more rejections. My heart feels like it’s breaking all over again, but I blink away my tears and turn to Celine.

  “I know this is a shock—”

  “It’s not a shock!” Dad yells, even though I’m not even sure he’s listening. “It’s not a shock, because it’s not true!”

  Celine and I both flinch, but we don’t take our eyes off one another. “Cee…”

  “It’s okay, Tay,” she says gently. “I know. I’m so sorry you had to do it alone.”

  She gives me a tug with her fingers. It’s the lightest of touches, but it’s enough. I end up with my face on her shoulder, sobbing against her neck.

  When I finally come up for air, Celine’s cheeks are wet, too, and Dad is still pacing in the far corner of the room, shooting glares at Celine and I as though he’s mad at both of us for accepting that Mom is gone. Like our acceptance is what really killed her.

  He jerks to an abrupt stop. “Tell me what happened.”

  I swallow and say all the words I’ve been dreading for so long. “She was shot at the engagement party and taken to the hospital. She had a private room. The best care. When I saw her, she was talking, she was breathing, she was stable and doing okay.” Dad opens his mouth to interrupt, but Celine holds up her hand and he falls silent. “I sat with her for a while. I spoke to her… She was tired of fighting, Dad. She was tired of simply surviving instead of living. She was done.”

  His chin wobbles. He looks paler than ever before.

  “She asked Ilarion to look after you, and then I left her room. A few minutes later, the alarm went off. The doctor ran in, the nurses ran in, and… Well, it doesn’t matter. They said she did it herself.”

  Dad drops right back down into his chair. He’s so limp, so damn near lifeless. Like we’ll have to scrape him out of that seat with a shovel.

  Celine is quiet, but her breathing is steady. “It’s so weird,” she murmurs. “It’s like I’ve woken up in the wrong world. Some horrible alternate reality.”

  “… Payback…” Dad mumbles to himself. “For…all my sins…”

  Celine and I exchange a glance. “Dad?” I venture. “I know this is a lot, but—”

  “We have to leave,” he blurts. He jumps to his feet. “Right now.”

  “Dad,” Celine groans, “I’ve already told you: I’m not going anywhere. I need…I need to talk to my fiancé.”

  My whole body twitches, but this time, neither Celine nor Dad notice. I struggle to my feet and walk to the door. “Come on, Dad,” I say gently. “Let’s go. Celine needs some space.”

  He shakes his head, but he lets me pull him along.

  “I’ll tell Ilarion you’re asking for him,” I say to Celine before I leave her room with Dad shuffling his feet behind me.

  We’ve just cleared the medical wing when Dad suddenly grabs my hand. I turn to him, expecting anger, but he looks more panicked than mad.

  “Taylor, I need to tell you something—”

  “There you are!”

  Dad drops my hand as Mila rounds the corner toward us. Her smile is pleasant but distant, though it grows even colder as she looks at my father. “Archie. We have a special room ready for you. I’ll take you there now; I’m sure you’ll want to rest after everything you’ve been through.”

  I want to talk to Dad, but I’m not sure if having a conversation right now will be good for either of us. He looks nervous as he glances at me. “Honey, we…we should talk.”

  “And we will, Dad,” I assure him. “But right now, you need to process. You’ve been through a lot and you need some time. Don’t worry—I’ll be here.”

  “Come on, Archie,” Mila says.

  He looks between us and frowns. Then he does something I don’t expect: he grabs me and pulls me in for a hug. He’s even skinnier than he was last time I saw him—I can feel the ridges of his spine poking through his borrowed clothes—but he’s real. He’s warm. He’s breathing.

  Mom might be gone, but at least Dad's still here.

  “I love you,” I whisper in his ear.

  He pulls back, but both his hands stay on my shoulders, like he’s silently begging me to meet his eye. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” His eyes are bright. Almost too bright.

  Then he plants a kiss on my cheek, releases me, and slumps off down the hall with Mila. She turns the corner first, but Dad hangs back just long enough to glance over his shoulder at me. His expression is not one I recognize; it’s calculated and alert.

  It’s…unlike him.

  He places his hand over his pants pocket. He pats it once and points to me.

  Then he’s gone.

  I stand there for a long time before I glance down at my own pocket. When I stick my fingers inside, I’m stunned to find a piece of paper. His handwriting is as familiar as my own.

  South entrance. Midnight. Be there, and bring a bag.

  Don’t tell a soul.

  Our lives depend on it.

  76

  ILARION

  “A-are you sure?” Dima says, looking at the list of targets I’ve just given him.

  I’ve been holed up in the den since we returned to the house. The medical wing should have been my first stop, but I decided that Taylor deserved that first meeting more than I did.

  That’s what I told myself, at least.

  Truth is, I just don’t want to fucking go up there.

  “I’m sure,” I reply without missing a beat. “Benedict is not going to expect an attack so close on the heels of a Zakharov victory. He’s licking his wounds and regrouping. I’m going to attack him while he’s down. And I’m going to stomp on his fucking throat.”

  Dima looks up at me. “This list is…ambitious. We’re going to need every single man we have.”

  “That’s why they’re all arming up as we speak.” I close my eyes and picture what’s happening. Across the city, in rundown bars and nondescript apartments and dusty warehouses, Zakharov men are pulling arms from locked trunks and tucking knives into their sheaths. They’re gathering, one by one and two by two, a trickle turning into a river turning into a fucking typhoon.

  We’re going to hit the Bellasios like a goddamn natural disaster.

  And when we’re done, there won’t be a trace of the Italian bastards left.

  I open my eyes and see Dima still watching me warily. “Go get ready,” I tell him.

  He frowns. “You’re not coming?”

  “I’ll meet you at the primary target. But I have to…deal…with a few things here first.”

  Mila walks in just then. Her face looks drawn, but her eyes are laser-focused. “I put the old man in a room downstairs,” she says. “He didn’t seem particularly chatty. Kinda on edge, actually. Definitely not grateful that we just saved his ass.” Her thorniness isn’t hers alone; we’re all more on edge with Archie in the house.

  “He didn’t say anything at all?”

  “Pretty sure he’s expecting to speak to you. But I think you should go and see Celine first. She’s been asking for you.” She bites back a scoff. “She’s the only one of them who actually wants to see you.”

  I grit my teeth. “I’m going up to see her now. You’re with Dima. He’ll fill you in.”

  “Wait,” Dima interrupts as I turn to leave. “Are we all going tonight? I mean, we have Taylor and Celine to consider. Not to mention the old man.”

  “A small contingent of soldiers will be left behind here to make sure they’re alright,” I explain. “But as you said, this will require all hands on deck. The Therons will be safe behind a locked door.”

  With that, I leave them behind and trudge up the stairs.

  Every step is harder than the last. I feel like I’m walking to my own doom. But when I arrive at the medical bay and open the door, Celine is asleep. Her closed eyelids tremble and flutter with chaotic dreams.

  I’m ashamed how relieved I feel that I can stave this conversation off, if only for a little bit longer.

  But the feeling is real. It’s churning in my gut and there’s no denying it. One way or another, someone’s heart will be broken tonight. It’s the only way it can be.

  So, with a bitter sigh, I turn my back on the woman I was meant to marry and ascend one more flight to talk to the woman I wish I could marry instead.

  77

  ILARION

  Taylor is pacing when I enter. The tracks in the carpet say she’s been at it for a while. I watch her bare toes trail through the lush nap of the rug before I drag my gaze up her legs, past the belly growing a life we made, and to her face.

  The soft smirk playing at the corners of my lips curdles into a frown when I see her eyes. She looks up at me, her hands clasped behind her back. But the effort to keep me from seeing that they’re shaking makes her whole body shake instead.

  Her lip quivers worst of all. “I told them,” she croaks. “I told them about Mom.”

  Fuck. “I’m sorry, Taylor.”

  “Are you?”

  I don’t answer. What would be the point? I knew from the start I’m not the hero in her story. If she wants to make me the villain—so be it. That’s her choice.

  She bites her bottom lip as though she’s trying to stop herself from saying something she knows she shouldn’t be telling me. “Did you see Celine yet?”

  “I tried. She was sleeping.”

  She looks relieved to hear that. “She’s weak, Ilarion. And I just told her that our mom is dead. I don’t think she can handle much more. So if you—”

  “I’m not planning on telling Celine anything tonight,” I reassure her. “Dima, Mila, and I have business outside the mansion.”

  “Why do you say it like that? ‘Business.’ So…cryptic.” She swallows. “I don’t like when you say stuff that way.”