Chapter 45
ERYX
Three years ago
The day of the accident
Its about an hour later and thats when I see him pull up to the pump.
That’s the mark—the driver. I timed it perfectly so we don't have to wait long.
Roman, my brother, and Caine my best friend came with me.
Not that I can't take this guy out alone, but it never hurts to bring people you trust with you, and I trust them both with my life.
His murdered out car makes it hard to see if he brought anyone with him. We brought our SUV today. If we're going to be playing bumper cars, got to make sure your ride can handle the heat.
"You want to follow him inside?" Caine asks. Roman just sits behind the wheel waiting for the next step. Ever the quiet one.
"Nah, let him think he got away a little longer. I want to have some fun." I tell him. We wait as he goes inside to pay for gas. He comes out with snacks, more than enough for one person.
"Can you see if someone is with him?" I ask out loud.
"Our orders were for him, they didn't mention that anyone would be with him." Caine replies.
"No matter, whoever they are chose the wrong day for a joyride. Let’s go.”
Roman starts the SUV and we let them drive off a bit before we trail behind.
We keep a little distance and start creeping up on him.
He switches lanes to let us pass, how considerate.
We then slide into the lane behind him again.
Not close enough to scare—yet. Just close enough to let him know he’s not alone. Enough to make him nervous.
He notices. Checks his mirror. Swerves lanes. We follow. He does it again. We stay right behind. There it is—the tension. He’s clocked me.
“Let the games begin,” I mutter, as we close the distance. Orders were simple: get rid of the driver. No witnesses. Quick, clean. They didn’t say anything about passengers.
We jab the bumper. Light, just a taste. His car jerks forward. I see brake lights flare, then panic. He guns it. Roman matches him. This isn’t a chase. He thinks he's getting away.
Another hit. Harder. He swerves again, trying to keep control. He's aiming for the next exit, but there's nowhere to go, just empty fields and asphalt.
Time to finish it.
We pull out to the side, shift weight, then cut into him. Our bumper catches his rear panel and—
Impact.
His R/T spins and flips, metal twisting in the air.
Roman lets off the gas, and we coast toward the wreck.
Smoke's already curling from under the hood when we step out. I jog up, scanning. He’s still conscious—barely—slumped against the steering wheel, pinned under debris.
Blood's running down his temple. He lifts his head just enough to look past me.
And that’s when I see her.
Passenger side. Small frame. Black hair like a raven. Slumped against the door, unmoving.
Shit. "Fuck!" all three of us look at each other. We're not in the business of hurting women. Who the hell is this? This wasn’t part of the deal. No one said anything about a girl.
The driver reaches for her, voice like sand scraping glass. “Leav…ve her…a-alone…”
I freeze for half a second. Not from guilt. From surprise. I look at her again. She’s breathing—shallow, but steady.
Boots crunch the asphalt.
Roman.
He moves to the driver side like a shadow. Doesn’t look at the girl. Doesn’t say a word. Just walks up to the driver’s side and pulls a syringe from his jacket. Smooth, practiced.
The man’s eyes roll as the needle sinks in.
He slumps back, out cold.
Roman steps back, finally looks at me. “We done here?”
I glance back at the girl. “She wasn’t supposed to be in the car.”
Caine shrugs. “Then it’s a good thing we didn’t kill her.”
We didn’t. But someone almost did.
I look at her lithe body, then grab a hold of her.
Her arm looks to be broken and she hit her head pretty hard with the impact.
I start pulling her out and hear her whisper, "Thor-ren.” Her eyes land on him as Roman pulls his piece and aims it at the guy.
Then she passes out and goes limp in my body.
"Lets go, bring him with you. He wants him alive,” I tell Roman. I take the girl and place her in the back seat, getting in with her and hold her in my arms as I whisper, “I’m sorry, Vorona. You weren't supposed to be here.”
“I pulled you out of the car. It was me.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Not because they aren’t true but because of how they hit her. Because of how she looks at me now. Like I’m the monster under her bed finally stepping into the light.
I hate that this is how she finds out.
She stands there, caught between me and Thoren. Her breath’s coming in heavy. Her lips part slightly, but nothing comes out. And God, I wish she would scream. Hit me. Unleash her fury onto me. Anything. I deserve it. At least then I could pretend I still meant something to her.
I was going to tell her, when the time was right.
When I knew that I could catch her and not let go.
When she would still want to be in my grasp.
When I knew that I’d be able to pull her back up from the depth of her sorrows.
When I knew that I would be able to piece her back together and atone for my mistake.
But now, I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.
The look on her face says it all. I let her down.
I’ve broken her. Her trust, her heart, any hope of our future.
And it hits me, then, with full force. I’ve lost her.
I’ve shattered something sacred. Something I never deserved in the first place, but selfishly held onto like a thief.
And I have no one to blame but myself. I knew this day would eventually come, and I thought I would be ready.
But looking at her tear smeared face right now, seeing the hurt in her eyes, broke something in me.
I try to reach for her, “Vorona, I’m— I never meant—” but she cuts me off not letting me finish.
“No, don’t fucking touch me. I’m not your raven.”
The words punch the breath from my lungs. A title I gave her. My raven girl, always so ethereal, with her wild long hair, and eyes like midnight, my beautiful raven. A name she wore only for me. And now, now it’s a curse on her tongue.
Tears trail freely down her face. She doesn’t wipe them away. Just stares at me, broken in ways I’ll never be able to fix. Then, quietly—so quietly it barely registers—she asks, “Why—Why were you there that day?”
And I don’t have an answer. Because what the fuck could I possibly say that would matter now? I run my fingers through my hair, tugging at the roots. “Your father—fuck! Your father sent out a hit.”
Disbelief crosses her face, “My father? Why would Sergio put out a hit on me?”
“Not on you, on him!” I point behind her at Thoren. “I was going to tell you.” I try, stepping forward, my voice tight. “I was waiting for the right moment—when I could explain—when I could help you through it, I—”
“Help me?” she snaps, voice raw. “You think you could help me through this?” Her hands tremble.
She drags them through her hair like she’s trying to hold her head together.
“All this time…” Her voice breaks. “I blamed myself. I thought I should’ve died.
I wanted to die. I hated myself for surviving and you—” she laughs, but it’s hollow, bitter “—you were the one who did it?”
“You weren’t supposed to be with him. You were never part of the plan.
The moment I realized someone else was in the car I felt sick.
It was supposed to be a simple job, deliver Thoren to your father, didn’t matter how.
We just needed to get rid of him. Then I saw you, barely conscious, hurt, and it was all. My. Fault.”
My vision begins to blur and I feel something wet on my face and realize I’m crying. “I’d never met you before, but one look and I knew you were the most beautiful person I’d ever laid eyes on, that I needed to protect you, needed to make you mine.”
Voice shaking she makes her final stab through my heart. “I trusted you. I—I thought I loved you.” That last word lands like a knife.
“Nastasya…” Her name feels wrong on my tongue now. Like I don’t deserve to say it.
She turns to Thoren now, “Why? Why did Sergio put out a hit on you?”
Thoren takes a deep breath before pounding the final nail on her coffin. “Our parents, they— they were having an affair.”
She scoffs, “Yeah I know, it’s not like I was blind to how they looked at each other, but I saw the pictures. I know that’s why Sergio killed them. But what do you have to do with any of that. We had nothing to do with their indiscretions.”
“Stass, surely you’ve had to wonder.” He’s dragging this out, hoping she’ll piece it together and he won’t have to be the one to break her heart all over again. She’s been through so much already.
“You know that our fathers, started their company together and in doing so they set stipulations down, as to who should take over, should anything happen to them. The first stipulation being that we needed to be twenty-one, second, being of sound mind, and third, we needed to be a direct heir. If either wasn’t able to secure an heir, then the company would transfer fully to the other party upon their retirement. ”
“Ok and?”
“When my father died, his shares and spot on the board were held for me until I turned of age. That meant Sergio held complete ownership in the interim. But the day of your incident he came across a problem. He found out that he was close to losing the company completely. He needed me gone, so he could control you, and keep his shares. Your mother had been keeping a secret from him. From you.”
“Just spit it out, stop talking in riddles.” She spits angrily. I don’t know how much more she can take.
“You needed a blood transfusion that night.”
“Yeah I know. Its quite the inconvenience having a rare blood type.” She has a puzzled look on her face.
“A rare blood type that can only be passed down genetically.”
“What are you saying right now?” Realization hits her. “Are you? No—there’s no way.”
“Yes, Stass, you’re my sister.”
“How long? How long have you known and kept this from me?” Her breathing picks up, she’s on the cusp of having another panic attack.
“My mother knew. She told me on her death bed. She knew about the affair and of you. Your mother had confessed everything to her before she passed. My mother told me everything, and asked that I look after you.”
She doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares.
Like the words haven’t landed yet, like her brain is trying to rearrange the letters into something that makes sense.
But I know the second it hits her. It’s not dramatic, there’s no scream, no curse.
Just… something in her face caves in. The lights go out from her eyes.
“No,” she whispers, barely audible. She sounds exhausted. “You’re lying. Tell me you’re lying.”
“Stass…” He takes a step toward her, but she recoils like he’s raised a hand to her.
“No—don’t!” Her voice cracks. She wraps her arms around herself like she’s physically trying to keep it together, like her ribs are the only thing holding her in place.
Her breathing’s gone shallow—quick, uneven.
Panic. I’ve seen it before, in the ring.
When someone takes a hit and can’t get their bearings.
But this is different, worse. This is someone being undone from the inside.
“Nastasya,” I try, my voice tight. He looks just as wrecked, but she doesn’t see it. She starts pacing, stumbling, her hands clawing at her chest like she can rip the truth out of her skin.
“You’re—no, no, you can’t be—” Her voice pitches. Her knees buckle and she catches herself on the grass below her feet. “I loved you. I—I was in love with you. I—I—God—” Her hands tangle in her hair, trembling.
I move without thinking, reaching for her.
“Baby, breathe. Just look at me, okay? You’re safe—” But she jerks away like I burned her.
“Don’t touch me!” Her eyes are wild now.
Drenched in betrayal. “How long did you know he was alive, how long did you know he was my fucking brother? I confided in you, I told you things I’d never told anyone else. ”
“I wanted to. I was going to—”
“When?!” she screams, “After what? After I completely fucking broke?”
And then she bolts.
I call her name—once, twice—but she’s already running through the open space back to the dormitories. All I can do is stand there, fists clenched, heart racing like I’m the one who just got knocked out. And maybe I did. Maybe we all did.
Thoren drops onto the grounds, eyes fixed on the direction she ran through like if he stares long enough, she’ll come back. But I know better. She won’t come back, not until she finds a way to make the pain stop.
And that terrifies me the most.