Chapter 20 - Anya
My heart is beating a million miles an hour.
Standing next to my bed, I stare down at my phone. No, this can’t be happening.
I press play on the voice note again, and my brother’s voice comes loud and clear through the phone speaker. He sounds furious.
“You’ve been lying to me the entire time.
I don’t know why you chose to do that. I don’t know if you’re in on this or not, but by the looks of things, you seem very happy there with my enemy.
Yes, that’s right, Anya. I know you’re in San Diego.
I know you’re with Emmanuil Belyayev. I tracked your phone.
You’ve been there the entire time, lying to me every time we spoke on the phone.
Well, I’m in San Diego, too. I’m coming to get you. We will discuss this in person.”
I can barely breathe as the panic shoots through me, clenching my throat and making my heart slam against my rib cage in painful, aching beats.
I press my hand against my chest, trying not to have a full-blown panic attack. Kristopher is here in San Diego. He’s angry, and he’s coming for me.
Is he going to come to the mansion? Does he know where Emmanuil lives? Of course, he can track my phone. Shit. I don’t know what to do.
I hurriedly dial my brother’s number, my hands shaking as I hold the phone up to my ear. Each unanswered ring thickens the nausea building in my stomach.
I dial again.
No answer.
Again.
I can’t handle this suspense.
Where is he? Why won’t he talk to me?
Where is Emmanuil? Will Kristopher go straight to him? Will he hurt him? If they come face-to-face after years of hating each other, because of me, they might end up killing each other. The fears inside me go pitch-black.
That’s when I almost lose myself to a panic attack. I let out a sharp scream and run from my bedroom.
I leap down the stairs, almost falling, rushing into the garage, and grabbing the keys for the jeep. I jump into the car and tailspin as I speed off the property.
While I’m driving, I dial my brother again, but again he doesn’t answer.
I dial Emmanuil, wanting to warn him of what’s happening, but he doesn’t answer, either.
What the hell is going on? Where is everyone?
Am I too late?
I slam the car down a gear, and the engine revs as I skid around a corner.
My only hope is that Emmanuil is at his office and Kristopher hasn’t gotten there yet. And if he has, I hope I can get there in time to stop them both from doing something stupid.
The car skids to a halt right outside the entrance of his office.
I leap out of the jeep and run through the doors, straight into the elevator.
I’m so scared I want to throw up, but I swallow hard and fight the fear, holding it deep inside myself, staying in control so I can focus.
I just need to stop anything bad from happening.
I love him.
I don’t want to lose him a second time.
The elevator moves agonizingly slowly as it carries me to the top floor. In the mirrored silver walls, I catch a glimpse of my own reflection. My eyes are wild with surging emotions. I look away, unable to bear the sight of myself.
A soft chime pulls my attention to the doors. They slide slowly open, and as soon as I can slip through the gap, I’m out of the elevator and hurrying towards his office. I ignore his receptionist and her friendly greeting, hardly hearing it, my mind having singular focus.
I don’t hear shooting or shouting, which eases my racing heart the smallest amount, but as I get closer to his open office door, I do hear my brother’s voice.
I still.
Coming to a complete stop, my body goes rigid and tense.
Their voices are deep, filled with anger and hatred as they hiss at each other.
“What the fuck do you want with her? Why don’t you just leave her alone like I told you to do years ago?” Kristopher snaps.
I step close to the door, but I don’t let them see me.
“Because I wasn’t done with her.” Emmanuil sounds calm now, matter-of-fact and casual as he replies to my brother. “You two played with me, so I had to play back in return.”
What? Is this real?
“What the fuck does that mean?” Kristopher growls.
Emmanuil laughs as though this is all fun and games.
My heart is sinking lower by the second. Each moment that passes increases the pain, shattering through me.
“Your little sister broke my heart in ways I’m embarrassed to admit. She made me weak. A weakness I will never allow to happen again. That girl means nothing to me apart from being a means to an end for my revenge. She hurt me, she played games with me—and now I get to do the same to her.”
I clasp my hand over my mouth, horrified, smothering the cry of pain that spills from my lips.
“If you hurt her—" Kristopher snarls.
“Not yet. For now, she’s simply fallen into my trap.
She thinks we’re back together, but soon, she’ll find out that I have been using her.
In every possible way. Her heart will break the same way she broke mine.
And she deserves every moment of pain that comes of it. I will destroy—and I will destroy you.”
They keep talking, but my head is pulsing so hard I can’t focus on the words.
My legs are shaking so badly I can’t stand anymore. I collapse against the wall, leaning on it to keep myself standing. Tears stream down my cheeks as reality, the reality I have feared since the beginning, slams into me like a freight train.
My breath is sharp, my lungs closing, my heart stammering. I’m falling apart at the seams, and no matter what I do, I can’t deny that I have deserved this. For years, I have deserved this.
This is the pain that I inflicted on Emmanuil five years ago, and now karma has delivered it right back to me.
I close my eyes, squeezing them tight and pressing my shaking hands over my face.
Inside the office, things are escalating, their voices becoming louder and angrier.
I deserve this. I deserve to feel this much pain. But I can’t let them hurt each other. I have to accept what he’s done and put an end to this situation in any way that I can.
It takes me several deep breaths to pull myself together, only barely, but enough to wipe my tears away and stand up straight.
I thought things had changed between Emmanuil and me. In the beginning, I knew he wanted revenge, and I assumed it was his plan all along; I knew he deserved to have it, but I thought things had changed. I thought he’d forgiven me.
No, he still wants to bring me down. He is still flooded with hatred.
I want to run.
I want to run and never stop. I want to run until my body collapses from exhaustion and I’m too tired to feel a thing.
But I can’t leave my brother in there to face the consequences of my mistakes.
So I lift my chin, force myself to find courage from somewhere deep inside my heart, and I march into the office.
Both of them stop and stare at me in disbelief. They are right up in each other’s faces. I run into the room and stand between them. They’re both tall, towering over me. I shove them, first Kristopher and then Emmanuil. I push them away from each other.
“Stop,” I shout. “Stop fighting.”
“Stay out of this, Anya,” Kristopher snarls, trying to push me away.
“I won’t. You have to stop,” I plead with him.
“Go home,” Emmanuil demands. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I glare at him, his words aching through me. “No. If you two don’t stop fighting right now, I will never speak to either of you again,” I say, my heart breaking all over again. Emmanuil’s eyes are burning into me.
All I can think is, how did he do it so well? How did he do such a brilliant job of making me believe he was falling for me all over again?
It doesn’t matter, though. What matters now is that I stop them from killing each other.
“Fine, I’ll go. But you’re coming with me, Anya,” Kristopher demands.
“I can’t, Kris,” I say sadly.
“Yes, you can, and you will.”
“I can’t. I’m married to Emmanuil.”
His eyes shoot wide. “Married? What the fuck?”
Emmanuil wears a satisfied gleam on his face, a cold, gloating smile that hurts to see.
“I’m tied to him. I cannot leave with you now. But I will come home soon.”
“I can’t leave you with this madman, Anya. You’re not safe,” Kris grumbles, his face pulled tight.
“I’m not in any danger. He hasn’t done me any harm. You being here is the only risk. Please, Kris, go, and we can talk later. I’ll come home soon, I promise.”
My brother shakes his head, clenching his jaw and flexing his clenched fists. He’s not happy to leave me, and the news of me being married to his enemy has upset him even more, but what choice does he have?
“Is this what you want me to do?” he asks, staring right into my eyes. I stare back with confidence, hiding my fears and hiding my heartache. I nod.
“Yes, I want you to go,” I say boldly.
He closes his eyes, and without another word, he turns away from Emmanuil. I can see the tension in his body as he walks away.
Slowly, my heart begins to beat a little slower. The immediate danger is over. They didn’t start shooting; no one got hurt.
I got hurt. My heart is shattered.
That doesn’t matter.
I turn to look at Emmanuil, and his face softens. “Are you okay?” he asks.
I study his expression. His beautiful hazel-green eyes, the dark stubble over his jaw, the way his hair is tussled as though he’s been running his fingers through it. Images flash through my mind. His lips on mine, his body rocking against me. I sigh, letting out a soft breath.
“Yes,” I say, realizing he doesn’t know I overheard everything he said to my brother. He doesn’t know that I know the truth. That he hates me and has only been pretending to forgive me.
It’s better this way. Let him have his moment of satisfaction. I hurt him first. I don’t deserve a second chance with him.
“Can you please take me home?” I ask, my voice shaking, despite my best efforts to hold myself together.
He steps close to me and pulls me into his arms. “You didn’t mean what you said,” he says softly.
“What?” I mutter, confused.
“You aren’t going home to him, are you?”
I push away from him. “I have to,” I stammer.
His eyes darken.
“Anya—"
“Can you just take me home, please. I don’t want to talk about this at your office,” I huff. My pain is turning into anger. Anger that he’s playing me, even now, even after being so open about his plans with my brother. He’s still toying with my heart and pretending he wants me around.
Angry hot tears are threatening the backs of my eyes, stinging and burning. I turn away from Emmanuil and walk towards his office door. He runs after me, following me out of the office and into the elevator.
“Did you drive here?” he asks. “Where did you park?”
I nod, holding up the keys to the jeep. “In front of the building.” He takes them from me.
“I’ll have someone bring the car home; you can ride with me.”
I nod, not in the mood to argue, hardly in the mood to talk at all with the way my heart is splintering into smaller and smaller pieces. I can barely look at him anymore. I fell for all of it. I wanted so badly for it to be real. I wanted so badly for us to have another chance.
“How did you know your brother was here?” he asks as the elevator carries us down.
“I didn’t. But he sent me a message to say he knew where I was and that he was coming to get me. I was worried he would do something stupid. And I wanted to warn you, but you didn’t answer your phone.” I shrug, looking past him at the elevator door.
“Thank you,” he says, but his voice is tight.
We climb into the car and drive home in silence.
Emmanuil keeps glancing at me, but I turn my face away, knowing that as soon as we get home, I have to pack and leave.
I can’t stay another second now that I know what truth.
It hurts too much. Every moment with him now is a horrible taunt, a jabbing spear into my heart.
It’s a glimpse at what I can never have.
Arriving at the mansion, I push the passenger side door open before he’s even parked fully. I’m out and walking towards the front door, with him shouting my name in annoyance.
“Anya, what the hell?” he snaps angrily.
I don’t answer, I walk into the house and head straight for the stairs.