Page 46 of Unrequited

I pull out my phone and I text him. Again. And again. And again.

Where are you?

Where’s my Mr. Thursday?

I’m sorry, okay?

I’m sorry.

Forgive me, Seamus.

Where did you go?

Aren’t you coming?

But my messages go unanswered. Each one is like screaming into a black hole. No reply. No explanation. Nothing.

The following Thursday, I go back, even though I already know. Alreadyfeelit. And I sit there again, trying not to let the hope rot me from the inside out.

He doesn’t come.

Nor the Thursday after that.

Nor the Thursday after that.

After five straight weeks of going, I finally, fully admit it to myself.

Seamus lied to me.

He betrayed me.

He used me.

He came here to Moscow and tried to destroy everything—myeverything. My family. My people. My blood.

And when he couldn’t? When he failed?

He walked away.

There’s nothing left between Seamus and me.

It was all a sham. A performance. A ruse wrapped in charm and whispers and moments that felt too fucking real to be fake.

He used me.

And I will never—never—be the same again.

Chapter 9

ZOYA

Rafail standsin the shadowed doorway of the kitchen, silent for a moment before speaking. “I need to talk with you. Let’s take a walk.”

That’s all he says. Just like that.

It’s been a long time since my oldest brother asked me to take a walk. That used to be his thing—his way of handling things when words got too heavy for the kitchen table or when he didn’t want the younger ones listening in. I don’t blame him. He was only eighteen when he had to step into the impossible role of father figure. Thrust into it like a soldier thrown into battle without a choice, too damn young to be raising four wild kids who didn’t know any better.

But he did it. He tried, and he did what he could.