Octavia
The man keeps following me around.
Nothing new.
Everywhere I go, he is there. I cannot escape him.
He is driving me crazy, and I can’t even release this pent up anger anywhere, because Adriano has not found any men since that eventful night.
And the people who attacked me are long dead, but whoever ordered them still walks free, I have no idea who that is, and it gnaws at me more than I like.
I keep turning that attack over in my mind, again and again, but it leads nowhere.
Adriano was furious with me, probably still is, and I don’t understand why.
I mean… I wasn’t the one who shot him.
And yet somehow he blames me, says the psycho I have managed to get myself entangled with is too deranged, that because of me and my stupid Instagram picture Markev put a bullet in his hand.
Or hands I should say.
Anyway, he was fine. Markev didn’t hit anything important, so there was no lasting damage.
If I didn’t know better, I would almost say he did it on purpose. Knowing I will have his head for hurting Adriano badly.
So here I am, back at the academy, trying to make the most of my final year without any more bullshit thrown my way, and now I can’t even do that. With the attack, everything feels tainted.
Adriano is looking into it with my men, but for now there is nothing.
Father doesn’t know anything about it, and that is exactly how I want it.
I asked for it to be kept quiet, because he is far too volatile, and if he finds out his daughter, the next in line for his empire, was attacked, he will start a war without thinking twice. He is unpredictable like that.
And we are not ready for one.
I finish applying my gloss and move towards the mirror, carefully avoiding my reflection, taking in only the dress.
It’s short and white. The front is cut with deep red fabric, over which a skeleton is shaped in jewels, and roses are woven between the bones.
It is a magnificent piece. It cost me a fortune, but every cent was well spent. Everything about it sits exactly as it should, natural and striking. It fits the Halloween party perfectly.
Sofia Moretti is the designer, the best there is, and almost impossible to get hold of. The Morettis run Chicago, so connections help.
The sleeves are long, which is fortunate, because there is no chance I am covering this dress with a jacket, and it is freezing outside, and the party is in the woods at the Thirteenth Circle cabin.
So I will probably end up staying inside most of the time.
Beauty requires sacrifices, and I would rather risk hypothermia than ruin this masterpiece.
I pull on my heeled boots, open a drawer, and take out two blades. One slips into my boot, the other rests against my thigh.
Then I am out the door.
I leave the dorm and start the walk. The music is already blasting, and as I move through the woods it grows louder and louder, pulsing through the trees.
When I reach the clearing, I spot my sister through the sea of people.
Her long white hair is braided down her back, and she is dressed entirely in black—a fitted dress, gloves, over the knee boots, and a pair of dark wings rising from her shoulders.
I make my way towards her.
She looks up the moment I approach, a smile spreading slowly across her face.
We don’t spend much time together these days, for reasons I can’t name, and it leaves me almost sad.
“Hi,” she says, and I smile down at her as we hug. She looks paler than usual, and concern rushes through me before I can stop it.
“Are you feeling all right?” I ask.
She keeps the smile on her face, though it tightens slightly. “Yes, I’m fine. You worry too much.”
Just as I’m about to reply, I spot Markev heading deeper into the woods, and I see Talia following after him. He’s wearing his Ferrum Syndicate mask, but I know it’s him.
So what the hell does she think she’s doing?
You don’t go after a predator, especially one you claim you’re scared of, one who already hurt you.
This story is getting weirder by the minute.
And I don’t like it.
I narrow my eyes, excuse myself from Ophelia, and step away, following after them.
“What’s going on?” my sister asks.
I turn back to her, worry etched across her face.
“Nothing. I just thought I saw someone and wanted to say hi.”
Then I move slowly towards the woods.
They’re still far enough away that they don’t notice me yet. Markev stands rigid, mask on his head, his shoulders squared, looking one second away from violence.
Something tightens in my chest.
I keep moving, careful with my steps. The ground crunches softly beneath my boots. A shiver runs through me as the wind sweeps past.
“You have a death wish,” he says.
Talia’s voice isn’t what I expect, she doesn’t seem scared, just sweet, almost coaxing.
“I told you I would do it,” she says quietly. “I warned you.”
Markev takes a step towards her, his eyes narrowing. He looks confused, then angry.
Very angry.
His hands curl into fists at his sides.
“You’re just a stupid girl who thought she mattered because I let you play a role.”
She flinches, but recovers quickly.
“Tell me exactly what you said,” he continues. “I need it word for word.”
Then his voice drops. “What did you say to my girl, to make her…”
Talia’s face twists, and she speaks over him. “She’s not your girl,” she snaps. “I am.”
Markev laughs, but there is no humour in the sound.
“You’re more delusional than I thought,” he says. “You’re certifiable. But don’t worry, if you won’t tell me, I’ll find out anyway, and then I will fucking kill you.”
He smirks.
“So here’s how this goes. You tell me, and I kill you. Or you don’t, and I still kill you. See? In the end it’s all the same. We arrive at the same conclusion.”
His cruel smile widens. “Me killing you, that is.”
He takes another step towards her, and my heart starts to hammer.
“Step away from her,” I say, barely keeping the disgust from my voice.
They both turn at the sound of my voice.
“Talia,” I say. “Explain yourself.”
I move closer, closing the space between us. Markev’s eyes flick to me, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Gorgeous,” he says.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap.
“What are you doing alone with her?” I demand.
His smile widens. “Jealous? Fuck, I love it when you’re possessive of me.”
I ignore his comment. There is no reasoning with this psycho.
“You,” I say again, turning back to her. “You have something to explain. And if this is what I’m starting to think it is, you won’t need him to kill you. Because I fucking will.”
I don’t know how I feel.
I don’t know how to feel.
Because fuck it all to hell.
If my suspicions are true…
It was easier when I thought he was a rapist who needed to die.
Because without that, I have nothing to stand on.
If he didn’t hurt her… that means there is no reason to hate him.
But I want to.
I want to hate him so badly.
For the simple fact that he is a Markev.
But I cannot punish him for his name… for his blood…
So what the hell do I do now?
I close my eyes and tilt my face to the sky.
When I open them again, I trace the few stars that manage to pierce the darkness above this island, though they are blurred because I am fighting the urge to cry.
If these two see me cry, I might as well end myself here and now.
I hear Talia’s composure finally collapse as she starts sobbing.
But she is nothing more than background noise to me at this point.
“This is getting old very fast,” I say, still staring upward.
I finally look back at them, and Markev is watching me intently, something uneasy flickering across his face.
“I… I don’t know what you heard,” she cries. “He asked me to come out here, to talk.”
Markev turns to her so fast it’s almost jarring, and the softness in his face vanishes.
But it is me who speaks.
“Just stop fucking lying!” I say, my voice rising with every word until the last is almost a shout.
My calm is gone.
Completely gone.
I am spiralling, and I know it.
Markev moves, a blade flashing into his hand, and in the next moment it is pressed to her throat.
“I strongly encourage you to speak,” he says quietly, nudging the blade just to break the surface, a thin line of red appearing beneath it. “Last chance before I cut a vein. What did you do?”
Her body starts to tremble, and the sound that leaves her is barely human.
“I lied,” she sobs. “I’m sorry. I lied. Fuck, it’s not even worth it anymore.”
“You lied about what, exactly?” he asks.
I have never heard his voice like this. It is stripped of everything human.
She keeps her mouth shut, and he presses the blade a fraction deeper.
She screams. “I told her you raped me!”
It feels as though even the music has stopped, or perhaps it is only inside my head.
Something cracks across Markev’s face, but it is gone just as quickly.
I step forward. “Why? Why the hell would you lie about something like that?”
She looks at me, tears streaking her cheeks. “I told him I would.”
I stare at her. “That still doesn’t answer my question. Why?”
“Because he used me,” she sobs. “He needed a fake girlfriend and I agreed. But when I wasn’t useful anymore, he threw me away. And I love him… I wanted something real… so I did what I know best. I tried to manipulate him.”
“Do you understand,” Markev says, “what you’re saying? Do you understand what it means to accuse someone of that?”
She sobs harder.
But all I feel is sick.
Because what the fuck do I do now.
I hate the man with everything in me, or at least I try to.
I hate all of it, and hell, I still feel guilty… guilty because he never raped her.
And I feel fucking stupid for not checking.
For once, I didn’t check.
And I always do.
Always.
And now here it is, the depth of it all laid bare.
Because the answer to why—why didn’t I check—is something no one is ready to confront.