Page 27 of Cruel Juliet

Whatever gratitude I could feel withers when I remember that. Petyr took everything from me. Now he thinks he can bribe me with electronics?

Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen.

I let the e-reader drop on the covers. Satisfied that he’s done his job, Luka steps away quickly. He’s putting as much distancebetween us as possible, and I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t make me feel like shit.

His words from last night echo in my head. About what my family did to his.

I tossed away the Danilo name ages ago. Last year, I was convinced it’d never come up again. That I’d finally built a life away from all that.

But I fucked up. I let myself believe in Petyr. Now, my name has come back to haunt me.

I glance around the room. The crewmen grunt as they set up the TV. Not a word, not a look my way.

Luka crouches to check the cords himself. He probably wants to make sure I won’t electrocute myself by accident. Or for fun.

The men stand up. Christmas is officially over. No phone, no computer, nothing I could actually use to reach the outside world. Just the bare minimum necessary to keep me from clawing at the wallpaper until I lose my mind.

Luka’s crew leaves without a word. I try not to feel anything about it, but I can’t. The dirty looks the men kept throwing at me made me feel like a criminal. LikeI’mthe one who did something wrong.

Which is crazy. I was kidnapped, for fuck’s sake! I’m being confined to a room while pregnant because a mobster thinks I’m his property! And yet, I’m the one with the guilty conscience.

Having morals is extremely overrated.

When the door locks behind Luka’s back, I flip the e-reader over in my hands and scroll through the menu. At least theselection’s not bad. I wonder if Petyr appointed someone to approve the books or if he sat down and did it himself, like a good government censor.

But no. Ali Hazelwood’s latest novels are all in here, as well as a few other names of note in the romance section. Petyr would never let me have anything spicier than white people curry. He’d get jealous of the 2D love interests on the page and throw this thing in a digital bonfire.

I can’t shake the nagging feeling left behind by the nasty looks I got from Luka and his henchmen, though. It’s like the aching space where a missing tooth once was, and I can’t stop sticking my tongue in it.

They don’t just dislike me because I’m Petyr’s problem. They hate me because of who I am. Because of what blood runs in my veins.

I rub at my arms, the skin prickling. How am I supposed to live like this? Trapped in a house where everyone on the payroll sees me as the enemy?

It isn’t just about boredom anymore. It’s about surviving in a place where I’m not wanted. Where everything I do is judged against a family I already cut ties with. I’m guilty before I’ve opened my mouth. Luka made that clear when he looked me in the eye and told me he won’t trust me because I’m a Danilo.

Though I guess he has better reasons than most.

How can you know that?My mind needles with new, horrible scenarios.Maybe everyone in this house lost someone because of your family. Maybethat’swhy they hate you.

I squeeze the e-reader tighter in my hands, then set it down before I crack the screen. My family’s sins shouldn’t become mine by association, but here we are. How the hell am I supposed to build a life here if I’m treated like the enemy? How the hell does Petyr expect me to?

A sharp knock rattles the door. In response, my stomach growls like Pavlov’s best-trained dog.

Time for breakfast.

I set the e-reader aside. “Come on in,” I call, though it’s not like Anya ever waits for an invitation. Or needs it. Another reminder that everyone here has more power than I do.

Right on cue, Anya enters with the tray balanced on her hands. But her face looks stormier than usual, and I know just by one glance that she’s even more unhappy to see me today.

She doesn’t set the tray down so much as slam it onto the table. Tea splashes over the rim of the cup. Her eyes cut to mine, hard and unflinching. I already feel smaller under her glare.

“You’re angry,” I note. “Good morning to you, too.”

“You think I don’t know what you did?” Anya’s voice is low but sharp. “You distracted me. You made me forget the lock.”

“Relax,” I say. “I didn’t tell Petyr you forgot. I told him the lock was broken.”

I’m expecting some measure of relief, but Anya’s glare only deepens. “Am I supposed to thank you for that?”