Chapter 49
LEONORE
Iturn around, and there he is.
Konstantin Lomonov.
My evil brother-in-law.
He stands beside the fireplace with his hands clasped in front of him and his legs apart. He’s wearing a black suit without a tie and an evil grin.
My body moves before my brain catches up, and I bolt toward the stairs. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to protect Larissa.
But I only make it four steps before he catches me by my plum hair and yanks me back, so I don’t even make it to the living room. He spins me around, but I use the mug I’m holding to smash against his face.
“Stupid bitch,” he curses as flesh meets boiling water, and everything in me comes to life to fight.
I am that woman who holds guns and scalpels to powerful men’s throats.
His grip remains iron tight as he still holds my hair, then throws his full weight to swing me around and throw me toward the fireplace.
I hit the wall, chest first, and the impact drives the air from my lungs.
Before I can suck in another breath, he presses his body into my back and pins me against the wall.
I fight against him, feeling stupid for having ever put the gun down.
He grips my wrist with one hand and presses it to the wall above my head.
The other wraps around my jaw and tilts my head to the side so his mouth is at my ear.
But I turn so awkwardly and bite at his cheek, ripping flesh.
He growls but frees himself and hits my head against the wall.
I see stars as I cling to the coppery taste in my mouth.
Fight. I have to fight, but my body has turned sluggish.
“Now, now,” he murmurs. “Why would you try to run when we have so much to catch up on?”
The touch of his breath on my skin makes my stomach churn.
“Get your hands off me,” I say through gritted teeth, still dazed, but the adrenaline is sharpening my senses. I can barely breathe. “Silas has men surrounding—”
“Had men,” he corrects me. “Past tense. They’re all dead.”
No. My stomach drops.
“And your boyfriend is on the other side of the city. Probably in a thousand pieces after the little gift I left him.” His lips graze my ear. “It’s just us now, Antonia. You and me and my men.”
What does he mean, Silas is in a thousand pieces? What was the gift he left him? Oh God, was it a bomb? Is he dead? Is Nessa?
All that fierce, feral fight in me leaks alongside a sob. No. None of this would’ve happened if it weren’t for me.
His fingers tighten on my jaw, and I grit instead of wincing from the pain. But that feral creature in me claws dangerously close, only knowing how to survive.
“Oh, and how could I forget about little Larissa,” he taunts.
Hearing her name on his lips hits me like a bullet in the chest.
I grit my teeth. “Don’t you dare touch her.”
“I won’t need to.” His voice is low and cold. “If you do as I tell you.”
My body is rigid against the wall. Every muscle locked with fear and terror.
“Although,” he adds, “I do like it when you fight me. You’re just as feral as I remember.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as the memories crash in. What he did to me, and how hard I had fought to stop him from doing it again. The taste of his blood is on my tongue, and I try to wrestle free from his grasp again, but for all my strength, he’s still much bigger than me.
“Those days I had you in the basement will seem like a picnic compared to what’s coming.” He shifts his weight, and I feel every inch of him against my body. “I have a new Hell waiting for you, Antonia. One I’ve been fantasizing about for six long years.”
He runs his nose along the shell of my ear and inhales deeply, and the revulsion that rises in me is so violent I gag.
“I want you to know that what comes next is not going to end. There is no escape this time.”
“You’re a monster,” I spit, aiming for his face, but it lands on his shoulder from this awkward angle.
“Monster.” He scoffs at the word. “Isn’t that what you used to call your husband?
I assure you, I am much more creative than he ever was.
He was sloppy.” Konstantin’s fingers slide from my jaw to my throat.
“I, on the other hand, am very precise. And I will enjoy getting revenge on you for what you did to him.”
“This isn’t revenge for your brother. You don’t give a damn about Viktor. This is about you and your sick lust. Your thirst for blood and pain.”
He chuckles. A low, soft sound that has no humor, warmth, or humanity. My vision blurs, and my legs buckle.
“You’re right,” he says. “My brother was an idiot.”
His hand moves from my throat to my hair, and he yanks my head to the side.
“But he had good taste.”
His tongue slides down my cheek. A wet trail from my temple to my jaw. I clamp my teeth together and will myself not to scream, because if Larissa hears me, she might come looking for me.
So I choke down the revulsion and the nausea and the words I want to hurl at him.
I have to get him away from here. If I agree to go with him, he’ll leave, and Larissa, Lotti, Gia and Alexis will be safe.
I am the one he wants.
The solution is obvious.
I have to give him what he wants.
“I’ll go with you,” I say, my voice flat.
Konstantin eases off me slightly.
“No games,” he warns.
“No games.” It’s a lie. The first chance I get, I’m going to kill this asshole. There are at least fifty steps between us and the front door, and I will find something to arm myself with between here and there.
Just stay calm. I remind myself that I’m still the same woman who was daring enough to bring a scalpel to Silas’s throat the first time I met him. I do not bow to powerful men. Another sob locks in my throat as a flash of his dark sapphire eyes comes to mind.
“You disappoint me,” he purrs in my ear. “I was hoping for a bit more fight from you.”
“I’m done fighting,” I say. Another lie. I’m done running. But fighting, never.
“Well, we’ll see—”
“Get away from her, you motherfucker.”
The voice comes from behind us.
We both turn to see Gia standing at the entrance of the living room, pointing a shotgun at Konstantin.
“I said get away from her,” she repeats, in the same cold, calculating tone as her brother. “Or I will redecorate that wall with your insides.” Her smile is savage.
Konstantin’s grip loosens only a fraction.
“And who might you be?” he asks her, the amusement in his voice is thick. “Such a pretty little thing, you must be the sister.”
“I’m the woman who’s going to blow a hole in you the size of a dinner plate if you don’t take your filthy hands off her, you goddamn asshole.”