Page 36 of Twisted Fate

VALENTINA

“ I need to know the truth, Sophia.” Konstantin’s voice is hard, if not entirely unkind. He’s looking at me with the kind of expression that tells me he’s as confused as I am—that he’s feeling things he hadn’t expected and torn about what to do next.

And he suspects me. I can see that he does—it’s written all over his face. He glances back at the bathroom, then at me, his lips pressing tightly together as if to keep all the questions from spilling out all at once.

“Let me get my robe. You put something on too?—”

“Sophia.” He grabs my shoulder, spinning me to face him as I reach down to snatch my discarded robe. I pull away, yanking on the silk garment as I take a step back.

“Maybe you’re fine with having this conversation naked, but I’m not.

” I hold the robe closed in front of me, acutely aware of the feeling of Konstantin’s cum slipping down my thighs.

He’s fucked me three times in less than eight hours.

I’m pleasantly sore and thoroughly exhausted—and worn out from the attack besides. We need to question Elia, and?—

Konstantin is still looking at me as if he’s ready to physically stop me from taking another step.

“The truth, Sophia,” he says sharply. “Now.” His eyes narrow.

“You took down that woman with no trouble. Self-defense lessons, fine. But your first thought was to tie her up and interrogate her. You knocked her out with that in mind. That’s not self-defense.

That’s—” He seems to be trying to find the right word for it, and I frantically try to think of an explanation that he’ll buy.

I can’t tell him the truth. Not only will that mean failing my mission, losing out on the chance to get the name from Kane and my revenge, from gaining my freedom—but I have no idea what Konstantin would do to me.

If he knew I tricked him, married him with the intent of killing him, fucked him while thinking about when I would do it…

He promised he’d never hurt me… but he promised Sophia Moretti that. The woman he married in good faith.

Konstantin is the heir to the Bratva. A brutal, efficient, ruthless leader. And I have no idea what he would do to Valentina Kane if he found out she planned to kill him.

“I—” I take a deep breath, swallowing hard. “It’s complicated.”

Konstantin’s gaze narrows. “I’m listening.”

I lick my lips nervously. “My father wasn’t the typical mafia soldier.

And he didn’t treat me like the typical mafia daughter.

He had me more… involved. Before I left for college, before he died—when I was a teenager.

He taught me self-defense, taught me to fight, to use a knife, to shoot. And he… took me along.”

Konstantin frowns. “Took you along?”

“When he had a job. When he needed to take out a mark, or threaten someone, or punish them. Question them. He taught me some of the ways to do that too. He’d have me help him.” I swallow hard, feeling the lies burning my tongue. None of that is true. Not about my real father, at least.

The man I’m describing is Kane.

Konstantin’s face hardens. “He took you along? On jobs like those? When you were… how old could you possibly have been?”

I swallow hard. “Thirteen, until I left for college. He started taking me along around fifteen or sixteen.” That’s true, if I’m referring to Kane.

Konstantin’s jaw tightens. “You were a child. I know you seem to have cared for your father, but what the fuck , Sophia? A teenager? I can’t imagine—” He rubs a hand over his face. “I would never take a child of mine on a job like that. Not that young. Not?—”

Well, that’s a relief, I think… and then I remember that this marriage isn’t real. That I’m still supposed to kill Konstantin. That not only will I not be having children with him, but he won’t be having children at all.

My heart feels like a stone sinking in my chest at that thought. Not about having children with him, specifically—but the thought of his death. Of this man no longer existing.

Of me being the one to kill him.

“That’s why,” I say softly. “I know it’s all strange, but?—”

“Why didn’t you tell me from the start?” Konstantin interrupts, and I bite my lip.

“I didn’t know if you’d believe me. And—” I take a deep breath. “I loved my father. I know it might sound strange, knowing all that, but I did. And… I knew you’d get that look on your face when I told you. I knew you wouldn’t think about him the way I do any longer. As a man you could respect.”

Konstantin drags a hand over his mouth. “Well, I’m glad you know that much about me, at least.” He glances toward the bathroom. “You really want to help with this?”

I nod. “I’m good at it, believe it or not.”

He looks at me, his brows furrowed as if he’s still trying to figure me out. “Okay,” he says finally. “Let’s see if she’s awake.”

I can tell that the conversation isn’t finished. But he’s bought my story for now, at least, and that’s all I need for the moment.

That, and to figure out what the hell I’m going to do about my own unfinished job.

Elia is starting to stir when we walk into the bathroom. Her eyes flutter open as I flick on the light, and Konstantin approaches her, still naked. He crouches down in front of her, patting her lightly on the face as she comes to.

She twists around immediately and tries to bite his hand.

“Oh no you fucking don’t.” I step forward immediately, grabbing her hair as I pull her head back.

“Listen here, bitch. I’ve had enough of you trying to touch him.

In any way. That little moment where he had you pinned on the bed?

That’s the closest you’re ever going to get.

Now, if you want to keep all of your fingers, and all of your teeth, you should start talking.

Beginning with why you were in my bedroom, trying to kill me and my husband. ”

Elia spits out blood on the tile, rolling her eyes up to meet mine. “I wasn’t going to kill you, bitch. I don’t care about you. I was here for him. I don’t even really know who you are, other than meeting you that one time at the bar.”

“I’m his wife,” I hiss, feeling a wave of relief wash over me.

Whoever Elia is working for, then, they don’t know my real identity.

She wasn’t here for me, just Konstantin.

And while that pisses me off too, at least I don’t have to worry about her spilling my secrets for me while we try to get the rest out of her.

Konstantin glances at me, and I can tell he’s still not sure what to think about what’s happening. “I don’t exactly have the tools to get her to talk here,” he murmurs, and I shrug.

“I think we can improvise.” I reach across the tub for my razor, breaking the top of it open to reveal the blades with a quick snap .

I tug one free, holding it up to the light.

“You can make a lot of little cuts with this without anyone bleeding out. They’re not so bad at first—” I reach down, dragging one sharp tip against Elia’s shoulder.

Her skin parts, a drop of blood welling up, and she lets out a small gasp. “But eventually, they all add up.”

“Sophia.” Konstantin looks at me evenly, but I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. He’s uncomfortable, I can tell that much. This wasn’t what he expected from his wife.

I’ve been just full of surprises. And he doesn’t even know the half of it, yet.

If I’m lucky, he won’t—not until it’s too late.

“I told you, I’ve done this before.”

“You could leave it to me.” Konstantin hesitates. “You don’t have to do this, Sophia. I can handle it?—”

“I know.” I reach out, dragging the blade down the side of Elia’s arm. “So can I.”

She holds out for a long time. She’s not new to this either, I can tell.

I ask her, again and again, the questions we need to know.

Who sent her. Who she’s working for. Why they want Konstantin dead.

She’s dripping from two dozen cuts at least before I turn to the cupboard under the sink, digging around until I find a bag of Epsom salts.

I reach in for a handful, rubbing them into finer particles in my hands, and then I reach out with one salt-coated palm and rub it down the side of her sliced and bleeding arm.

The sound she lets out is a nearly animal yowl. “Let’s try this again,” I say calmly, holding up my bloody, salty palm. “Who are you working for?”

“You bitch,” she pants. “You’re fucking crazy. What kind of mafia wife?—”

I dip my hand in the salt again, and drag it down her other arm.

By now, Konstantin went back for a pair of boxers. He’s crouched next to me, watching me with an expression that I can’t entirely read. It’s not awe, exactly, and it’s not shock. It’s like he’s not entirely sure that what he’s seeing is real. Like, he thinks he might be hallucinating.

Elia gasps with pain, a groan tearing past her gritted teeth as I rub more salt into her wounds. “Fuck… off…” she bites out, and Konstantin lets out an impatient huff as he reaches for the other razor blade.

I watch as he slips the point into one of the open cuts smeared with salt, digging it deeper, opening the wound wider as Elia’s mouth drops open and she sags forward, letting out a moan of pain as Konstantin pulls the blade back and I push another salt-covered finger against the widened gash in her arm.

“You should start talking,” I purr at her, working my finger against the wound. “We’re a long way from a thousand cuts.”

I see Konstantin glance at me as he works another of her wounds open, and I focus on my work, not allowing myself to look at him for too long.

I can’t think about how this feels—having a partner.

It’s a weird, fucked-up thing to enjoy, I know…

the novelty of having a gorgeous, brutal man next to me helping me torture a potential assassin, but I’ve lived a fucked-up life.

And right now, I feel close to him in a way that I know is all wrong for what I’m supposed to do to him .