Page 55 of Cruel Juliet

God, it fucking hurts.

Another wave hits. I scramble off the bed and run for the bathroom.

I make it just in time. The sickness is violent. I throw up everything I’ve eaten and then some, until I’m shaking on the floor, sweat on my skin and bile in my throat.

I curl up against the cool tile and breathe hard.

It doesn’t make sense. I was fine minutes ago. This isn’t the flu—that creeps up slowly. I always feel it when I’m about to get sick. This slammed into me like a punch.

The food,I realize.It has to be the food.

My mind races. Could it be food poisoning? Or something worse?

Kira’s always bitchy with me, but today, she was extra cruel. Could she have tampered with my tray? Could she want me gone that badly?

My gut twists, and not just from the cramps. I want to believe I’m being paranoid, but I can’t stop retching long enough to convince myself.

But no. It couldn’t have been Kira. She was the last one to handle my food. That would be too obvious. Wouldn’t it?

Anya. Her face blinks back into my memories, the cruel sneer she gave me when she said I’d be better off as fertilizer. Could she have slipped something in?

Or maybe it’s one of Petyr’s men. The guys who set up my electronics. Luka, even. None of them look at me with kindness. They wouldn’t care if I was gone. In fact, they’re probably thinking Petyr would be safer aspakhanwithout me.

I lie there shivering on the bathroom floor, every muscle tight. My thoughts keep running in circles.

Kira. Anya. Luka.Every single one of them could have done it. They had everything: motive, means, opportunity. All they needed to put me in the ground.

If I’d eaten all of the food, would I be dead right now?

Would my baby be?

I curl up on the floor. I don’t get up, not even when the worst of it passes. I’m shivering for an entirely different reason now, and I don’t want to look at it. The truth I didn’t want to face from day one.

That if I stay here, I’m going to die.

24

PETYR

The warehouse door grinds open for me. Two men stand guard—standard procedure since last time things went south here.

I step inside. My boots echo off the concrete. “Mikh.”

Mikhael straightens when he sees me. “Petyr.” His face is calm, but I know him well enough to see the irritation beneath.

I take a moment to look at him. My cousin. Blood of my blood. He’s always been cocky, has tested my boundaries more than it would be smart in the past few months, but lately, he’s been steady. Loyal in a way I didn’t expect.

Since the night I killed Anatoli, he’s been there without fail. Running the streets when I can’t. Watching my back.

I may not say it out loud, but I’m glad to have him next to me. Especially now, when everything feels like it could break apart with one wrong move.

I stop in front of him. “What’s so urgent I had to come down here myself?”

Mikhael shakes his head, frustrated. “Fucking Sidorov, that’s what.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course it’s the Sidorov Bratva. My least important ally, and yet the constant thorn in my side.

Boris’s family has always been small. Hungry, but weak. They cling to whoever looks strongest, and they change their tune when the wind shifts.