Chapter 33
33
ELIZA
T he gentle lilt of orchestral music underscores the lively chatter as more of our guests spill into the manor’s ballroom through the wide double-doors, finely dressed and eager to mingle. This party would probably be a lot more fun if I actually knew more than a handful of the people in this room, but then again, even if I did, I doubt I’d be able to let loose and enjoy it. My palms are sweating, my stomach in knots, and even though I’m trying not to, I keep looking toward those doors with trepidation as I await my father’s arrival.
“So you’re with both of them?” Cherie asks, prompting me to return my attention to her.
“Yeah, I guess I am,” I reply sheepishly, taking a small sip of my champagne. “I know it’s a little unconventional, but…”
“Girl, that’s hot as fuck,” she blurts, tossing her dark hair back and fanning herself with her designer clutch. “I’m jealous. Landing one Volkov brother is like hitting the lottery, but both ?”
“Yeah, about that,” I murmur, narrowing my eyes. “Why didn’t you ever mention that Roman had an identical twin?”
She flinches back, wrinkling her nose. “Didn’t I?”
“No, you definitely didn’t,” I deadpan.
Cherie shrugs, her plump lips curling into a smile. “Well hey, you were the one living with them, it was a fair assumption you knew!”
Anton comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and hooking his chin over her shoulder. “Come, malishka , I want to introduce you to someone,” he croons in her ear, her mouth splitting into a wide grin.
“You go,” I say, tossing back the rest of my champagne and brandishing the empty glass. “I’m gonna grab another drink.”
As Anton whisks Cherie across the room, I head for the nearest bar, swiping another full glass of champagne from a tray on the side and abandoning my empty flute. I turn back around and smile when I spot Niko approaching, sharply dressed in a black tuxedo with a stunning redhead on his arm.
“Good evening, Mrs. Volkov,” he greets with a respectful tip of his head.
“Good evening, Niko,” I reply, my smile deepening as I nod to his date. “Who’s the pretty girl?”
“Allow me to introduce you to my fiancé, Saskia,” he declares.
“Fiancé?” I echo, arching a brow as I extend a hand in her direction. “You are a very lucky woman.”
“I’m the lucky one,” Niko says with a grin, gazing down at her adoringly as the two of us shake hands.
In hindsight, it never would’ve worked with him. He’s too sweet. As it turns out, I prefer hand necklaces over pearls.
After exchanging pleasantries with the two of them, I meander through the crowd, keeping a watchful eye on the doorway as I pace the room. My father should’ve been here by now. The party started half an hour ago, and he’s nothing short of punctual.
What if someone tipped him off?
“Where have you been, wife?” Roman growls as he comes up behind me, banding an arm around my waist and yanking me back into his chest.
“Making out with that guy,” I joke, tipping my champagne glass in the direction of a handsome stranger.
Roman releases his grip around my waist, turning me to face him. “I sincerely hope you didn’t do anything with him,” he says, pinning me with a harsh stare.
“And what if I did?” I challenge, lifting my chin as I raise my champagne flute to my lips. “He’s hot.” I take a sip, knowing I’m playing with fire and craving the burn.
“He’s your second cousin.”
I spit out my champagne, coughing and sputtering as I wipe at my mouth with a wrist.
The corner of Roman’s mouth ticks up in amusement as he watches me struggle to recover my composure. “He’s the next blood relative in the Sorokin line, so he’ll be taking your father’s place after tonight,” he informs me as I smooth my hair and draw a deep breath.
“About that,” I murmur, stepping in closer and peering up at him through my eyelashes. “Are you sure he’s coming?”
“Trust me, he won’t miss it. If not for networking, then for the opportunity to finish what he sent his lawn boy here to do. He’s as paranoid as he is greedy. And speaking of…” Roman’s gaze lifts as he trails off.
I immediately whip around to look toward the doors, my father strolling over the threshold and into the ballroom with his beast of a second at his back. Vlad is intimidating to look at– a former professional fighter, stacked with muscle– but he’s as dumb as he is massive. Though he’s trained to kill and is really more of a bodyguard than a second-in-command, he’s no match for my men.
My father’s dark, calculating eyes scan over the room, a brittle smile creasing his lips as he spots me and begins striding in my direction.
I glance up at Roman, realizing that he’s looking in the opposite direction, making eye contact with someone across the room. Knox . I follow his gaze, and sure enough, Mr. Hyde is weaving his way through the crowd, already bound for us.
I turn my head back around right as my father approaches, my heart stuttering a beat.
“Eliza,” he breathes, feigning fondness as he reaches for my hands. His fingers are cold as he grips onto mine, and I suppress a shiver as he pulls me in and presses a disingenuous kiss to my cheek. “I’ve missed you,” he says as he pulls back, giving me a once-over. “You look… healthy .”
He’s calling me fat.
My cheeks flame and an arm drapes over my shoulder, tucking my body in against a very familiar broad frame. “She’s finally getting proper nutrition. Will be good for bearing the Volkov heirs.”
I snap my head up to gape at Knox, who just smirks and gives me a subtle wink.
Straightening the lapels of his expensive black jacket, my father clears his throat to demand our attention. “I’d like to speak with you,” he remarks. “In private.”
“Of course,” I say, forcing a smile as I slip into the role I’ll be playing this evening. The first step of the plan is getting him alone, so it’s officially in motion. “We can go to the study,” I suggest, gesturing for the twins to join me as I turn to leave.
My father leans in close, setting a hand on my arm and pressing his lips into a thin line. “I was hoping it’d be just the two of us,” he murmurs.
“Anything we speak about will be shared with my husbands, so they might as well come too,” I reply dismissively.
I don’t miss the way he flinches when I say husbands , plural.
Before he can object again, I pivot on a heel and start for the doors, my father hurriedly waving for Vlad to follow him as he trails after me and the twins.
The sounds of revelry spill out from the ballroom into the adjoining corridor as we turn down it, my heels clicking against the marble tile as I lead the way to the study. My heart pounds harder with every step, my mind racing.
Can I really go through with this?
I suppose I won’t know until it comes time to plunge the knife into my father’s chest.
The five of us enter the study and Roman closes the doors to seal us inside, the tension in the room ramping up with the snick of the latch. I pace over to the sofas near the fire, gesturing for my father to take a seat, while Knox and Vlad linger near the door and Roman takes up a post at the bar cart.
“So the rumors are true?” my father questions, his upper lip curling in disgust as his eyes flicker back and forth between my men. “You’re with both of them?”
“My marriage is none of your concern,” I say dryly, easing down to sit on the edge of the sofa opposite him. “It stopped being your business when you decided alliances were more important than your only child’s happiness.”
“That was clearly a mistake,” he grinds out. “Marriage vows are sacred, and your husband’s willingness to whore you out to his brother only proves that he isn’t a man of his word.”
“And neither are you, it seems,” Roman cuts in, striding over with a glass of vodka in hand. “I was under the impression I was getting a docile, virgin bride.”
“You probably want a refund then, huh?” I ask with a titter of amusement, glancing up at him.
The corner of his mouth lifts as he gazes back at me. “I still think I got the better end of the deal, wife .”
My heart skips a beat and I turn back to my father, finding him staring at the scars marring my left bicep, on full display in my strapless gown. “Something you want to say?” I probe.
His eyes bounce back up to mine. “You should really take advantage of sleeves,” he mutters. “That thing is unsightly.”
“Right, you don’t like looking at it because it reminds you of the pain of losing my mother,” I muse.
The muscle in his jaw feathers as he nods.
I cock my head. “Or is it because it reminds you of your own failure?”
His brows pinch together, lips screwing up in a scowl. “What are you talking about?”
I heave a sigh, rising to my feet and pacing toward the bookshelves. “It’s funny that you should mention the sanctity of marriage vows. What is it that they say, again?” My heels click against the floor as I walk along the row of shelves, reaching out to trail my fingers over the spines of the books resting upon them. “To have and to hold, for better, for worse… for richer, for poorer… in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish… “ I recite, pausing as I reach the end of the row. “Till death do you part.”
“What are you going on about?” my father scoffs, his upper lip curling in scorn as I whip back around to face him.
“Tell me, father, where in your vows was there a pardon for murder?” I demand, marching back toward him. “Of a wife, of a daughter…”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters.
“No?” I scoff. “Isn’t that why you came here tonight? To finish the job that Wesley couldn’t?”
“Who?” he questions, flinching back with a grimace. “The lawn boy you spread your legs for?”
I must’ve gotten my acting abilities from him, because my father’s putting on a convincing performance right now. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d miss the subtle tick in his movements, the shift in his posture.
“Eliza, you’re clearly unwell,” he sighs, pushing up to his feet. “Perhaps you should come back home so I can get you the proper care you need.”
“My wife isn’t going anywhere,” Roman bites out, taking a threatening step toward my father. “This is her home now, and she is very well cared for, isn’t she, brother?”
“I cared for her twice just this morning,” Knox snickers.
My father makes a scoffing sound in his throat, face screwing up in revulsion as he looks between the twins. Then he sets his sights on me again and starts in my direction. “Eliza…”
“ Don’t ,” I snap, holding up a hand to halt his advance. “Don’t come near me.”
His eyes go wide. “How can you treat your father this way?” he pouts, voice softening to feign injury.
“What kind of father would want to murder his own daughter?” I fire back angrily.
He shakes his head, evidently giving up on acting as his scowl returns. “This is absurd.”
“Your time is up, Victor,” Roman cuts in, stepping between us. “We know everything. Your wife, Anastasia Sorokin. Her father, Dimitri Sorokin. Abram, too.”
He waves a hand dismissively. “All tragic accidents.”
“That you set into motion,” Roman growls.
A wraith of a smile crosses my father’s lips. “Prove it.”
“We already have, and now there’s an execution order on your head,” Knox informs him, still holding his post at the door. “Boss agreed to let us do the honors, wasn’t that generous of him?”
“We’re leaving,” my father huffs, calling out for his second as he turns for the door. “Vlad!”
The moment he utters his name, Knox is slicing Vlad’s throat, blood spraying from the gash in his neck like a sieve, splashing onto the black marble floors below him as he collapses.
My father pales, eyes bouncing between my men, the exits they’re blocking his path to, and his henchman’s slumped form bleeding out on the ground. I can practically see the wheels in his head turning as he frantically considers his next move, seemingly deciding when his eyes land on me and he lunges forward.
I’m ready for him. My fingertips graze the slit in my dress, slipping inside and curling around the hilt of the knife in my thigh holster. Our guests’ weapons were confiscated at the door tonight, but we’ve got ours. I whip out the blade, bringing it up between us and pointing the tip in his direction.
He immediately balks, holding up his hands in surrender. “Eliza, sweetheart , they’re manipulating you,” he rushes out, swallowing thickly. “None of this is true.”
“That’s rich, considering you manipulated me my entire life,” I reply coldly, advancing toward him with the knife in hand. “You belittled me. Abused me. Never spared me an ounce of affection. Then sold me off with the hope I’d be slaughtered by my husband.”
He slowly backs away down the row of bookshelves, shaking his head. “None of that is true, I swear,” he insists, a sharp edge of desperation in his tone.
“You always were a better liar than a father,” I grumble wryly, stopping in front of the bookshelf that functions as the hidden door to the tunnels. “Tell you what,” I say as I reach over to pull on it, the hinges creaking as the door swings wide.“I’ll do you a kindness you never gave me. I’ll give you a five-minute head start.”
He blanches as he looks down the dark stone stairwell, breath catching in fear.
“Time starts now,” I wink.
My father sputters, looking around wildly in search for some way out of this situation. All he finds is Knox at the back door, inviting the dogs in to join in our little murder party.
My father has always hated dogs.
He pivots around frantically, stammering incoherently before rushing for the door and running down the stairs into the subterranean tunnels. The dogs trot over and I crouch down to greet them with scratches and praise as I hear the pounding of my father’s footsteps reverberating from below as they recede in the distance. Then I push up to my feet, smiling down at my furry friends.
“ Aport ,” I say as I point down the staircase, repeating the command Knox taught me. Fetch .
The two of them take off with excited barks, a smile coming to my lips as they set off to chase my father down in the labyrinth of tunnels.
“You did well,” Knox murmurs as both he and Roman gravitate toward me. “But are you really going to give him five minutes? In case you’ve forgotten, we’re hosting a party in the other room.”
I scowl back at him, pointing the tip of my knife in his direction. “Didn’t you say this was my revenge to dole out?”
He cracks a smile.
“Let’s go,” I say, gathering the skirt of my gown up in a hand and turning for the stairs.
It’s funny, last time I was down here I was terrified, running for my life. Now my father’s the one running scared in the dark, and there’s something exciting about being on the other end of the hunt. I think I finally understand the nuances of Knox’s warped psyche, because the rush I get as I descend the cold stone staircase is exquisite.
The twins follow me down, the three of us splitting up and Roman calling off the dogs so we can begin our own hunt. They promised they’d leave the kill to me, but it only seemed fair to let them get something out of this, too. And they do have an affinity for lurking in the dark and terrifying their victims.
The tunnels are just as dark and disorienting as I remember, but since I’m not in a panic this time my senses are sharp, my footsteps measured. Adrenaline roars through my veins as I weave my way through them, searching for any sign of my prey.
I find him quicker than I expect to. Following the sound of his labored grunts, I squint through the darkness to see him crawling on the ground, leaving a trail of blood like a snail behind him. His foot is twisted unnaturally, bone protruding from a rip in his slacks.
“I thought I told you to leave this to me?” I groan, knowing the man responsible for my father’s injury is lurking somewhere nearby.
“It was taking too long, I want to get back to our party,” Knox grumbles as he prowls up behind me, one hand landing possessively on my hip and the other flicking on his phone, turning on the flashlight to illuminate my father’s pathetic form.
He rolls to his back, his chest heaving and his once polished suit askew. “Eliza, please, you don’t want to do this…” he pants, voice hoarse with trepidation.
“You’re wrong, father,” I exhale bitterly. “I’ve wanted nothing more for a long time now; long before I learned you murdered my mother. Every time you made a comment about my scar. Or what I was eating. Or took out your anger on me and left bruises on my skin.” I finger the blade of my knife, turning it over in my palm as I stand over him. “Confess, and I’ll make this quick.”
“This isn’t you,” he rasps.
“Show him who you really are, Eliza,” Knox urges as he taps my butt in encouragement, a lilt of wicked excitement in his tone.
I sweep my arm above my head as I drop to a knee beside my father’s prone body, driving the blade into the meat of his thigh. “Confess!”
He cries out in pain, warm blood splattering my chest as I pull the knife free and pointing the tip at his face.
“Fine, I did it!” he snarls, clutching at the wound in his thigh as he curls upright. “I’m the only one who possessed any ambition in this family, so I did what had to be done to clear the way for my own ascension to power.”
“But why Eliza?” Roman cuts in, appearing from the other end of the tunnel and advancing toward us. “She was just a child.”
“She was a woman ,” my father scoffs. “Not a real heir. Not a son . She was nothing more than a nuisance. Always getting into trouble, then whining and sniveling when she was punished. And now look what she’s become.” He looks up at me, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
“An avenging angel,” Roman murmurs.
“A queen ,” Knox declares.
My lips curve into a grin as I glance between my men, a fresh wave of confidence surging through me as I lift the blade. Then I look down at my father, right into his cruel, soulless eyes as I plunge it down into the center of his chest.
He cries out, but once I start, I can’t stop. The knife makes a squelching sound against his skin as I pull it back, then plunge it in again, blood spraying from his wounds, sullying his white dress shirt. With every swing of the blade, I recall a time he hurt me, paying it forward by inflicting pain on him as he has on me.
The life ebbs out of his eyes, his strained shouts for mercy quieting until he’s nothing but a bloody carcass on the floor. I finally stop stabbing at his chest, pulling the knife back one last time before my arms fall limply at my sides.
As I stare down at his lifeless body, it hits me that I should feel sorrow or remorse for ending my father’s life. Instead, all I feel is an overwhelming sense of relief that I’ve succeeded in vanquishing the true villain in my story.
I take a deep breath, releasing it as I push to stand. I spare him one last look, but I still can’t find it in me to feel guilt for what I’ve done. I’m surprisingly at peace.
Wiping the blade off on the skirt of my gown, I return it to the sheath in my thigh holster, rising to stand on shaky legs.
“So, back to the party?” I ask, tucking a damp tendril of hair behind my ear.
Roman and Knox exchange glances.
“What?”
“There’s blood on your gown,” Knox points out, an unmistakable smolder of heat in his gaze as he takes in my appearance.
“Then it’s a good thing you like red,” I say, patting his chest as I step past him. The clip of my heels echoes in the tunnel as I stride away from the twins, back in the direction we came from. “Come on, I want to dance with my husbands!”
I smile at the sound of their uniform footsteps as they start to follow.