Page 8 of Cruel Juliet

Someone steps out of the shadows. It takes me longer than I’d like to realize who it is: Luka. My former bodyguard. How long had he been standing there?

The sight of him sends a jolt of unease through me, but also something almost like relief. To finally see a friendly face in the middle of all this is a small blessing.

I offer him a small, faint smile, but he doesn’t return it. Instead, he gives me a look that makes my stomach twist, a glare sharp enough to pin me in place.

Then he turns his eyes away, jaw tight, like he can’t stand to look at me.

Guilt spears through me. I remember the last time I saw him, pounding at the closet door I’d trapped him behind. I’d tied it shut with a belt so I could get away. I told myself I had no choice, that it was the only way.

And it was. I was running for my life, for my baby’s.

But I still hate that it had to be him. Luka has always been good to me. And I used that to make my escape.

I don’t regret leaving. But I regret what it did to him.

My gaze lingers on him a moment too long. I catch the scar above his brow, new and raw-looking, and the crooked angle of his nose that wasn’t there before.

My throat goes dry. Did Petyr do that to him? Was this the punishment for failing to keep me locked away?

The thought churns my stomach until I feel sick.

Petyr’s grip tightens, snapping me out of my thoughts. My body trembles faintly, but I force myself to stand straight and keep moving. Showing fear won’t help me now.

Though I’m not sure what will.

When we reach the SUV, Petyr opens the back door for me. There’s nothing gentle in the gesture. No hint of courtesy. It’s an order without words:Get in. Don’t test me.

My hands ball into fists at my sides, but I don’t argue.

Begrudgingly, I slip inside, the leather seats cold against my skin. The door shuts behind me with a heavy thud.

Just like that, the life I built for myself here—the quiet work, the little house, the fragile freedom—is gone.

Goodbye, Felicity. It was nice while it lasted.

When we get there, the jet smells like leather and polish, as if it was just scrubbed clean. Everything is sleek and expensive.

The contrast with my little rundown cottage sets me on edge. It’s an unintended but cruel reminder of all that I’m losing and what I’m trading it for. An honest life for a dollhouse.

My nerves crawl under my skin as I lower myself into a seat. Petyr follows, silent. Even when he isn’t speaking, his presence fills the cabin.

His men file in after us and settle into seats along the cabin. No one speaks to me, and when I glance their way, their eyes either slide past me like I don’t exist or narrow in open hostility.

I look away fast, my throat tight.

I don’t know if it’s because I ran from him or because of who my family is. Maybe it’s both. Either way, it’s clear: I am not welcome here.

The engines roar to life. I grip the armrest and stare out the small window into the night. The lights of the airstrip blur as we start to move, and my chest locks up.

I’m on my way back to a life where I am despised.

I just pray I can find a way out again.

5

SIMA

The mansion looms in front of me.