Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Not aunt. But also not mother.
Fuck. Fuck. It all makes sense. But it’s so goddamn sick.
This is why my father always hated me. This is why I never fit in. This is why it’s always been fucking wrong.
I’m spiraling. I can feel it happening and I can’t stop.
Not my mother. Not my aunt. Not my real family at all.
“Arsen,” Lena says more urgently. “Hey. Listen to me. You are who you are. It’s okay. Nothing’s different.”
“No,” I say, stumbling away from her. “No, fucking no.”
“Arsen!”
I stagger into the hallway, heart racing. I move fast as Lena tries to catch up. I have to get away.
I don’t know who I am or what I’m capable of anymore.
All I know is I’m wrong. I’m all wrong.
My sense of self shatters into a million pieces.
I’ve always defined myself by this family—and if they’re not really mine?
If I’m some half-Russian hybrid monstrosity?
My mother’s not my mother—my aunt’s not my aunt—my father’s not my father—
Tigran’s my cousin.
These aren’t my halls. This isn’t my house.
These aren’t even my people.
I’m not who I always thought I was.
I turn left suddenly and throw myself into a room. I slam the door shut and lock it. Lena bangs on the door and rattles the handle, trying to come in. I run to the closet and shove a hidden mechanism built into the back.
A panel slides open. The passageways yawn, black and inviting.
I throw myself inside and let the house swallow me.
Chapter 40
Lena
Iwake up and run my fingers across my husband’s pillow.
I swear, it’s warm—but Arsen’s still gone.
Instead of his big, comforting body, there’s a small bouquet of flowers.
Roses clipped from the garden.
I hold them up to my nose and breathe them in deep.
They smell like him.
“Any luck today?” Maud asks. She puts a plate of pancakes down in front of me. I don’t know why, but lately I’ve been craving them like crazy.
“Aside from the flowers, nothing.”
She sits down heavily on a stool and leans back against the island. “We could flood this place out, you know. Get the whole Brotherhood involved.”
“No.” I give her a stern look. “Please, give him time.”
“He’s been gone for two days.”
“Let him process.”
She sighs wearily and gets back to her feet. “You’re right,” she murmurs. “But if you change your mind, I know of a really good gas recipe that’ll knock out every living thing in a square mile.”
“I’m pretty sure that’d be bad for the baby, right?”
“Darling, we’d give you a mask.”
That night, before I climb under the covers, there’s a piece of paper left on my pillow. I can’t stop thinking about you. I press it against my cheek and pretend it’s his hand touching me in the night.
“Come out when you’re ready,” I tell the empty room.
And I swear the house responds. A creak in the floor, a snap in the roof. A groan and a crack. The history of this place answering back.
“But please, make it soon.”
“I don’t know how long we can play this fucking game.” Tigran paces back and forth across the patio. It’s a beautiful day. I have a new bracelet around one wrist—a gift I found waiting for me in the bathroom this morning.
I have no clue where it came from. I’m guessing it’s very old, from somewhere in the house. I like the way the diamonds glitter.
“Give him another couple of days.”
“My brother’s not a fucking coward.” Tigran slams his fist against the wall, glaring back at the house. “You hear me, Arsen? You can’t just hide from your responsibilities!”
“He’s not hiding. Trust me, this is a big deal to him.”
“What did that bitch Sona tell him, anyway?” He sinks down into a chair across from me. That angry outburst looks like it drained most of his rage away.
“It’s not my place to say.”
“Great. Wonderful. Arsen’s hiding away in his house like a recluse and I’m supposed to just… hold it all together?”
“Basically, yeah.”
“Fine.” He leans forward with a groan and rubs his face. I know Tigran doesn’t like me, but I think he’s a good person. At least, he’s extremely loyal to Arsen and I can tell this whole thing is bothering him.
Tigran wants to stomp through the house and drag Arsen out. But that won’t help anything.
“He’ll tell you when he’s ready. I promise, you’ll understand.”
“When’s that going to be? Tonight? Tomorrow? Two months?”
I hold up my hands and wish I could give him an exact timeline. “He’s processing.”
“You’re covering for him.”
“I mean, yeah, obviously.”
“Is he dying? Is he sick? Just fucking tell me the truth.”
“He’s not sick and he’s not dying. Just trust me, okay?”
Tigran’s lips press together as he studies me. I look back at him and hope he understands how sincere I’m being. He sighs as he leans back in his chair and tilts his face up toward the sun.