Chapter 35
Aurora
The guest suite is colder than I remember, the windows so clear that I feel as if I’m floating over the city. I rest my head on the chilled glass, staring down at the vein of streetlamps along the streets.
The world is so pretty from up here.
Safe.
My hands are shaking. Not trembling, not shivering, but shaking. Like the trauma has pooled in my wrists and is trying to vibrate me apart from the inside out.
I could run.
My bitter, dry laugh fogs the glass. Even if I could flee, I have nowhere to go. My old life is gone. My new life is here, on this floor, with the man who’s probably busy rebuilding his defenses so I never breach them again.
For a while, I almost believed we were bonding. That maybe he was starting to return the growing feelings inside me.
Dropping onto the bed, I draw my knees to my chest, hugging my shins to stop the twitching. The trembling doesn’t stop, not even when I tuck my chin and focus on my breathing. I’m not sure how long I sit here. Minutes pass, maybe an hour.
Eventually, my phone buzzes against my thigh.
My sister’s name flashes across the screen, and I swipe to answer.
“Hey.” The hoarse greeting emerges from my tight throat.
“Aurora! You sound like you just woke up.” Sam’s voice feels like walking outside into the perfect summer day. “It’s nearly midnight. Are you okay? Shit, did I wake you?”
“No. I’m awake. Long day.” I inject a little more life into my words. “Late shift. The usual.”
Guilt threatens to strangle me, but what else can I say?
I’m getting married, and you’re not invited because I’m worried about your safety? And my safety, too, because I’m this close to pulling a runner, and if I do, a scary mob boss will hunt me down and murder me?
Thankfully, she’s enough like me that my silence is just the opening she needs.
“Oh, that sucks. Wanna hear something funny to cheer you up? I got a ninety-three on my chem exam. You know, the class I’ve been taking over the summer. Ninety-three. My lab partner only got a sixty-seven. How dumb do you have to be, I mean—”
Her familiar rambling washes over me, filling the cracks where fear used to live. At least for a while.
She chats about the upcoming semester’s classes, the boys in her dorm, and how her RA is a “fascist” because she wouldn’t let them play beer pong after curfew.
As usual, she talks about food like she’s logging each meal and snack for the next time.
She mentions her friend Willow, who’s acting “so dramatic lately” because Willow’s roommate might have COVID, and “literally all she does is cough and make tea.”
Sam rambles on for a while longer. Fifteen minutes at least.
I love it.
She’s safe. She has no idea what it’s like to be in danger.
When she finally pauses to breathe, I blurt out, “You’re okay, right?”
“Me?” Confusion laces the query. “Yeah. Why?”
Though I know she can’t see me, I shake my head. “I just…you know. Your summer class. Studying. It’s a lot. And…”
Sam laughs my worries away. “I’m good, sis. Promise. I’ll have a short break before the semester starts. Not dead yet.”
A violent chill shudders through me, and I nearly drop the phone. “Don’t say that.”
Another laugh rings out. “Jeez, okay. No dying for me. I’ll stay alive out of spite, just for you.”
“Good.” I try to smile so she’ll hear it. “Keep doing that.”
Sam slurps from her cup. Coconut water, if I had to guess. “How’re things at Red Bird’s? Did you ever talk to your boss about those new shifts? What about that artist co-working space you mentioned? Tell me everything.”
Sadly, I can’t. I can’t tell her about how I lost my job or about how my life is now divided into Before Alexei and After Alexei. Nor about the fact that next week, I’m supposed to marry a man who terrifies me, even as a not-so-small, mutinous corner of my heart craves him.
I fish around for the right explanation. “Red Bird’s is…complicated.” Not a lie, just not enough truth to drown me.
“Speaking of complicated, what’s up with your boyfriend?”
Boyfriend.
How do I explain to my little sister that I’m marrying this man in a week to save us both from meeting an unsavory demise? I can’t, so I skip that part completely. “He’s supportive.”
Sam huffs out a dreamy sigh. “Of course he is. The good ones always are. Is he hot under that leather jacket? I bet he’s freaking hot. I mean, his face is, so I can only imagine the rest of him is.”
I snort. “He’s…insanely hot. And a little terrifying.” I hesitate. “He got me into an art show.”
She squeals so loudly that I have to yank the phone away from my ear, then she demands that I confess more. After I fill her in, she hums. “Are you bringing him to the show?”
“I don’t know.” I want to tell her that I’m scared. That I don’t know what’s happening to me. That I’m being pulled apart by something so much bigger than either of us. But I can’t. She’s the only thing in my world still untouched by this awful mess, and I refuse to ruin that for her. “Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.” I mean it with every atom of my being.
“I love you too, Rory. Can’t wait to see you kick ass at your show.”
After she hangs up, I sit in the dark and attempt to envision a future where I’m not a disaster on two legs waiting to implode the lives of everyone I care about.
Eight days. Then I’ll belong to Alexei on paper. Legally. Like a piece of real estate or a stray dog.
I should be plotting an escape. Searching for a new job. I should be doing anything except lying here like a worthless lump, wishing for a different life.
And yet, despite everything, I want him. I long to trust him and for him to want me. But if experience has taught me anything, the next disaster’s always lurking right around the corner, waiting for me to drop my guard. I can’t be caught by surprise if I’m always expecting the worst.
Life is just a series of explosions. All I can do is hope to survive the fallout.