ANYA
CHAPTER ONE
A Few Weeks Later
Muffled voices woke me up.
I blinked my eyes, trying to determine whether I was really hearing them or dreaming. But then those voices got angrier and sharper, dragging me out of the fog of sleep.
I shot up straight in bed, my eyes wide open now.
For several seconds, I stared straight ahead, trying to identify the voices. Who would be visiting Throne and me in our little piece of heaven here in Albania? Nobody knew us here.
I pushed the covers aside and swung my feet off the bed to get up. The room tilted, forcing me to grip the edge of the mattress until the dizziness passed. I looked down at myself. I was still wearing the pale silk nightgown Thorne had given me, my hair falling loose over one shoulder.
Then I heard a voice I recognized. Gabriel.
What was my brother doing here? It couldn’t be him. Why would he come without calling first?
My family was blissfully unaware of my relationship with Thorne. As far as they were concerned, I was here in Albania as part of my curriculum to take exotic and unique photographs. The fact that it was partly true offset my lies. At least that was what I told myself.
I was out of the bedroom, slipping into the hallway barefoot, following the sound of shouting toward the foyer. I was convinced my ears were deceiving me.
My heart hammered harder with every step I took closer to the foyer.
Somehow the house seemed to vibrate with anger that traveled through the air. My fingers curled against the wall as I heard crash after crash, followed by many angry words.
“Where is my sister?” Gabriel roared.
“She’s safe,” Thorne answered.
“Where, you piece of shit?” My brother sounded very angry. Why? He didn’t even know Thorne.
A bad feeling flickered in the pit of my stomach. Something about the way my brother was yelling, told me my secret marriage to Thorne wouldn’t be perceived as romantic as I thought it would.
“My wife’s resting inside, so if you don’t mind—”
“Your what?”
His roar seemed to shake the walls itself. My brother definitely wasn’t happy to hear Thorne’s claim. Shit… shit… triple shit!
“My wife,” Thorne repeated, his voice somewhat smug.
Gosh, I really wish it wasn’t. Gabriel detested when people were smug and condescending. It flared his temper fast as confirmed by the sound that followed.
A crash that vibrated through the air, and I swore, it almost felt like an earthquake.
“Stop it! Stop, both of you!” A female voice that sounded familiar came through, but then another crash sounded and for a moment I forgot about her until she spoke again. “Enough!” the female voice shouted. “Gabriel, we need him to explain!”
“He’ll explain from the grave,” he snarled.
“Not if I put you there first.” Thorne’s low and savage laugh reached my ears. Why was he taunting him?
“Listen to me! If Anya is in this house, then none of us are going anywhere until I see her and we get some goddamn answers!”
Damn it, why couldn't I place that voice? It had to be all the adrenaline rushing through my veins along with panic that made it impossible to concentrate.
Thorne spoke up next. “Don’t you fucking dare take her away from me. She’s my wife and I want—”
“I don’t give a shit about what you want,” Gabriel growled.
“What’s wrong with you two? I have a half a mind to shoot you both myself. You’re lucky I love you both.”
Amara DiLustro.
That’s who the voice belonged to.
I stopped, listening in disbelief. Was she talking to Gabriel and Thorne? Why would she love them both? As far as I knew, she didn’t know either one of them.
For a moment, I simply stood there, my hand resting on the door, listening. I swallowed, forced myself to move, and stepped forward, pushing the door that led to the foyer open.
Its hinges groaned, the creak scraping against my nerves like a string pulled tighter and tighter.
“Amara?” I called out.
All three heads turned: Thorne, Gabriel, and Amara. Their attention was on me while I stood in shock at the sight before me.
Gabriel stood in the foyer, blood streaked across his knuckles and fury written across his face. Amara was beside him, equally breathless, her eyes wide.
And my husband was in no better shape. He stood bruised and bleeding, his shirt rumpled from the fight.
“What’s going on? Why are you here?” I asked, my brow furrowing as I struggled to make sense of what I was seeing.
Our eyes met and Thorne reached out for me. Everything inside me went still, the room ceasing to exist. It was always like that whenever he was around.
He looked at me as though the rest of the room had ceased to exist.
“Anya.”
Gabriel’s voice reached me just as a deep, bone-rattling boom tore through the house.
The marble beneath my feet lurched.
For one impossible second, everything seemed to move at once. The windows bowed in their frames. The chandeliers swung wildly overhead, crystals clattering against one another as the fixtures arced back and forth. A sharp pressure punched through my ears.
Then the glass shattered.
I screamed and stumbled as the room tilted beneath me. My stomach dropped. Somewhere to my left, furniture scraped violently across the floor.
Thorne caught me before I fell.
His arms locked around me just as a second shockwave slammed into the foundation.
“Down!”
He drove us to the floor.
The impact knocked the breath from my lungs. Thorne twisted as he fell, covering me with his body. Something crashed against his back. Plaster rained down around us, peppering the marble. A jagged piece of debris struck the floor inches from my head.
I opened my mouth to scream.
Nothing.
My ears rang so loudly that the rest of the world seemed to disappear.
I couldn't hear the alarms. Couldn't hear Gabriel. Couldn't even hear Thorne breathing above me. Only that terrible, high-pitched ringing.
His arms tightened around me.
“Are you hurt?”
His voice seemed impossibly far away.
I swallowed and tried to answer, but my throat wouldn't cooperate.
“Anya.”
“I’m—” I coughed, dust scraping my throat. “I’m okay.”
For a moment, he just stared at me.
Relief flickered across his face before he pressed his forehead against mine.
Then the house exploded again.
The floor bucked beneath us.
Thorne grabbed my arm and hauled me upright. Dust churned through the air, turning everything beyond him into a gray blur.
“We have to move.”
“What about Gabriel?”
His eyes flicked around the foyer. Through the smoke and dust, I could barely make out my brother and Amara.
Gabriel was on top of her, shielding her with his body.
“Thorne—”
“We can’t stay here.”
“But—”
“Anya, now.”
“No.”
He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the rear corridor. I fought against him, glancing behind me, desperate to see Gabriel and Amara to make sure they were alright.
He was my brother. She was my friend. I couldn’t simply leave them.
He was dragging me through the doorway as another section of the ceiling collapsed behind us. I looked over my shoulder. The foyer disappeared behind a curtain of dust.
“Gabriel!” I screamed, tugging on my hand and trying to break free from my husband. “Thorne, stop. We have to go back.”
In the next breath, I was thrown over his shoulder and he ran from the wreckage while I screamed and pounded my fists against his back.
My husband finally stopped, then lowered me to the ground, the blacktop cool beneath my bruised feet.
My lungs burned with every breath, my chest heaving as though I’d been running for miles. My bare feet were worse. Broken glass had sliced through the soles, leaving them cut and bleeding.
The streets of Vlore were completely empty while my own world imploded. The city still slept, unaware of what had happened or perhaps simply unwilling to wake. Streetlights cast long, sickly shadows across the pavement, making the two of us look even more out of place.
Above us, the stars were beginning to disappear, swallowed one by one by the approaching dawn. The darkness that had hidden us was thinning fast.
We had to get off the streets.
Soon, the first people would wake. Shopkeepers would open their doors. Cars would fill the roads. And whatever protection the sleeping city had given us would vanish with the night.
But I didn’t care.
“You left them,” I screamed as I turned to face him. “You left my brother and Amara.”
His chest rose and fell rapidly.
“I got you out. That was the priority.”
“And them?”
“I was protecting you. I will end thousands of men and family to protect you. Gabriel and Amara have each other.”
I pounded my fists against his chest. “What is wrong with you? That’s my brother and friend.”
His jaw tightened.
“Anya—”
I shoved his chest, but he barely moved.
“You don’t get to drag me out of a burning house while my brother is trapped inside and call that protection.”
“I wasn’t going to let you die. And I wasn’t going to let him take you away from me!” he shouted.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. It was a deafening kind of silence while my husband and I stared at each other and my mind whirled with questions.
“Why would he take me away from you?” I asked slowly. He didn’t answer. “How do Amara and Gabriel know you?" Thorne reached for my hand. I reeled, taking a step back. “Answer me or I swear to God…”
I didn’t know what I would do, but I knew I needed him to give me answers.
“Tell me,” I whispered, my voice barely holding together. “If I ever meant anything to you, please tell me.”
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then something in his expression changed. Whatever softness had been there disappeared, replaced by a coldness I didn’t recognize. His jaw tightened, and his eyes became unreadable.
“My full name,” he said, “is Jetmir Thorne Volkov-Tijuana.”
The words hit me harder than the explosion had. The world seemed to tilt beneath me. My heart cracked in my chest and I was convinced the entire city must have heard.
Jetmir is Thorne. Thorne is Jetmir. Jetmir is Thorne.
The name echoed inside my head.
Oh my God. How could this happen?
“You lied to me,” I whispered.
Jetmir was my brother’s enemy. Jetmir was a cruel villain.
No wonder Amara was there. She wanted to make sure Gabriel wouldn’t kill him. They weren’t blood siblings, but those two were protective of each other and their family.
“I didn’t lie to you. Thorne is my name.”
Was there a note of panic in his voice? Or was that panic ringing in my own ears?
My knees struck the pavement, and I barely registered the pain. I shoved both hands into my hair, gripping it as if I could somehow hold my mind together by force.
“No, no, no. You deceived me,” I rasped, my voice cracking.
My deceitful husband crouched in front of me.
“I didn’t lie to you,” he repeated, his voice hard. “Look at me.”
I lifted my head, watching his bruised face, blood running from his temple.
“You’re my wife, Anya Santos Volkov-Tijuana.” Fuck, up until now, I was still using my maiden name. I was so stupid. So fucking naive. “Don’t forget that.”
“How could I forget?” A hysterical laugh bubbled in my throat. Maybe my mind cracked just like my heart did. “You’ve been lying and deceiving me from the moment we met.”
“I. Didn’t. Fucking. Lie.”
“Omission is a lie too,” I mumbled.
“Anya… my angel… Don’t look at me that way.” His voice cracked. “Please tell me what to do to earn your forgiveness.”
I reached up and touched his injured cheek. “Take me back to Gabriel. I want to make sure he’s alright.”
His expressions hardened and his eyes froze over. “It’s not safe to go back. I’ll take you to my place here and then I’ll go back and check on Gabriel and Amara.”
I shook my head. “No, I want to go with you. Now.”
I could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t going to listen. He’d made up his mind, and there was nothing I could say that would change it.
Without another word, Jet pushed himself to his feet, bent down, and scooped me into his arms. I barely had time to protest before he shifted me over his shoulder, carrying me as though I weighed nothing.
“Thorne… Jetmir… Jet…”
No matter what name I used, he ignored me.
Jet kept moving, his pace steady and relentless, while I hung helplessly over his shoulder, staring at the streets passing beneath us.
His footsteps carried us through the streets as Vlore slowly began to wake around us. Doors opened. Shutters creaked. Somewhere in the distance, an engine roared to life.
The city was slowly awakening while my life was quickly but surely unravelling.