Page 132 of His Darkest Obsession

I offer Amara a weak smile as she talks about her Columbia essay, my mind feeling heavy and distant.

"Why bother with an essay?" Svetlana chimes in before I can speak. "Tolya can make one phone call, a big donation, and you'd be guaranteed a spot."

"I don't want him to make that phone call or a donation for me." Amara lifts her chin lifts defiantly and then smiles at me. "I want to get in on my own merits. Just like you did."

I manage another smile, but it feels more like a grimace.

The past week has been somewhat of a strange return to our old life. Just me and Amara as she's putting on her final touches onher Columbia application. In many ways, I've missed spending time with my sister. But something feels off even as we settle into that familiar old pattern.

I'm exhausted constantly, my stomach perpetually unsettled.

"Order for Amara?" the barista calls.

Amara stands to collect our orders, leaving me alone with Svetlana. Her sharp blue eyes immediately lock onto me.

"What's wrong, Indigo Malcolmovna?" she asks directly.

"I'm just tired," I mumble.

"That's not what I'm asking about," she says. "I meant you and Tolya. The two of you seem like you can't even spend a moment next to each other after four weeks of inseparability."

"That obvious, huh?" I shake my head.

"Even a blind man could see it. What's going on?"

What's going on? How do I even answer that?

The truth is, spending this past week away from Anatoly has been hell for me. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't painful and that I didn't miss his touch or his presence. I want to be next to him, want to spend time with him.

But on the other hand.

I care for no one but the bratva, and I will love none other than the bratva.

Those awful words echo in my head every time I look at and think about him. And every time I think about those words, I also can't stop thinking about what Valentina threatened to do.

Instead, I deflect.

"Can you tell me about what it's like to join the bratva?"

Svetlana's eyebrow raises. "Why are you asking about this now?"

"I never really thought about it before," I admit. "Everything happened so fast. But now that I've had some time..." I trail off, looking for answers. "I'm just curious."

"It's customary for new initiates to pledge their entire life to the bratva. And only the bratva."

"Even Anatoly?" I ask.

"Especially Anatoly," Svetlana replies. "He was born into this life instead of joining it."

Her words settle like lead in my stomach, confirming my worst fears. Before I can ask anything more, Amara returns with our drinks. A black coffee for Svetlana, a sugary bobba with taro for Amara, and a jasmine tea for me.

But the moment I sip my tea, I find that it tastes wrong. Almost metallic. A wave of nausea crashes over me so suddenly that I gag.

And as soon as I gag, the nausea intensifies.

Svetlana and Amara look at me in alarm. I try to swallow back the rising sickness, but I can't.

I put my tea down quickly, my hand shaking so much that I accidentally spill it across the café table. The fragrant liquid spreads like a stain, but I can't focus on that right now. My stomach churns violently, a wave of nausea rising so fast it steals my breath.