Page 46

Veronica

K ael’s hand burns into Veronica’s thigh, settling with such possessive ease as if it belongs to him by some cruel predestination. She hates that she doesn’t push it away, hates that deep down, she wants it to be there. Hates that the rebellion she feigns is just an illusion to convince herself she isn’t broken, that she isn’t craving something dark and morally corrupt.

“I’m not going to do anything to him, you know,” he murmurs, rubbing her slowly with his thumb. “I mean, he is basically going to be my brother-in-law.”

Her body goes rigid. The mere thought of a future tied to him is unbearable.

Seeing the flicker of defiance in her expression, he lets out a low, sinister chuckle. “You think I won’t marry you? How did your old woman put it again?” A mischievous glint settles in his eyes. “That I’m just gonna suck you dry and toss you aside?”

Her heart stutters. He heard it. She still had the necklace then. Of course, he heard Carla’s words.

“I’m going to marry you, Veronica Beaumont,” he declares, his voice dangerously slow, darkness laced into the words. “I don’t care what anyone has to say about that. Not even you.” He leans over, brushing his finger on her jaw. “Or your little friend.”

His tone drops in warning at the reference to Shiro and her pulse spikes.

“I know he has been telling you things. Trying to convince you to walk away from this beautiful thing between us.” His finger brushes her lower lip, sending a shiver skirting up her spine. “Who knows what I’ll do if he tries to take you away from me because I’m not good enough for you?” He exhales sharply, his face lowering, the tip of his nose brushing against her jaw. “I’ll not hesitate to—”

“No!” she snaps, shaking her head so sharply that it slams into the headrest when the car lurches over a bump. “He won’t do anything.”

Kael studies her, his gaze brimming with something promising and dangerous. Then just as suddenly, he shrugs. “Okay. I believe you.”

Then his shadow disappears as he leans back into his chair, head thrown against the headrest, his eyes snapping shut.

She doesn’t question it when, instead of driving her to the apartment right after he picks her up from school like he always does, he takes the road leading to her house.

“I need to attend something outside town,” he answers as if reading the unspoken question on her lips.

Relief washes over her. A reprieve, a brief moment without him breathing down her neck, manipulating her thoughts, twisting her world into something unrecognizable.

There used to be a man she adored and a monster who lived inside him. But it’s been so long since she was in the company of that kind man that every memory of him has faded away. Because all she sees is the illusion of what was never there. There has been just a predator spinning a web, feigning tenderness until she was too entangled to escape.

There’s no such thing as Kael Volkov and Raidon Volkov.

Kael is Raidon and Raidon is Kael.

It’s been four days, and the image of Jack Griffin still haunts her, replaying in her mind like a horror film on an endless loop. But it’s not just the butchering that has stolen her sanity, keeping her awake at night. It’s not the agonized screams, Kael’s triumphant grin as he watched a video of himself destroying another man.

It was the moment she felt something other than horror. A flicker of something dark. A pulse of twisted exhilaration buried deep in her chest, so miniscule she might have ignored it. But she knows it’s there. And it terrifies her. Because if Kael is determined to drag that darkness to the surface, what happens when she can no longer fight it?

The car pulls into her driveway. Kael leans in, lips brushing against hers with a gentleness that feels like a contradiction. “Be a good girl, hmm?” He leaves featherlight kisses on her jaw, breathing her in as if he can’t get enough. “Be here when I get back.”

She nods, her body betraying her with a shiver when his lips return to hers, capturing them in a short but heated kiss, demanding, marking, possessive, sending electric jolts to the tip of her toes.

“Go,” he orders, his voice husky, layered with yearning as if restraining himself from taking more.

She steps out, and the car doesn’t move until she has reached the doorstep, pushed open the door, and disappeared inside. Only then does the roar of the engine rip through the quiet street, the tires screeching as they reverse out of the driveway.

“When do I get to meet him?” Carla’s voice startles her.

Veronica’s eyes snap open. Carla is near the kitchen, whisking tea, half shrouded in the shadow. When she steps into the dim light provided by the hallway, there’s something in her eyes, something judgemental.

“I said, when will I get to meet him?”

Veronica scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Trust me, you don’t wanna.”

She pushes off the door, murmuring, “Good day, by the way,” as she heads to her room.

Carla is known for being really opinionated, and can be quite rude. How many minutes will she spend alive in the company of a crazy, temperamental man?

After lunch, Veronica attempts to read for a while. She hasn’t been performing well academically lately. She was struggling a little before, but the death of Jack Griffin plunged her into a state of guilt and despair that depression began to crawl in.

She hadn’t seen the full extent of what Kael did until the news aired. The image of Griffin—nailed to his own bedroom wall, missing arm, severed achilles tendon, splintered fingers, barely breathing—burned itself into her memory.

Schoolwork has become impossible. Her grades are slipping. But she tries so hard because she needs to have enough credit to graduate. Otherwise, she might stay behind another year.

A geography textbook and notebook sits on her table, pen clenched between her fingers, when her phone rings.

Ian.

Maybe she should ignore it. Maybe she should remember what kind of man Kael is when Ian says he needs to see her, that it is urgent.

Maybe she should choose a goodbye over the phone instead of choosing a final one over his safety.

But she doesn’t. And it’s the worst decision she has ever made.

Goodbye words turned into goodbye kisses. And goodbye kisses turned into something more.

Maybe Ian took advantage of her vulnerability. Maybe he just really missed her. Or maybe she was just too stupid. Fifteen minutes of goodbyes turned into thirty minutes of tangled sheets.

Now arriving home, something is off. She senses it before she even makes it to the porch, before she pushes open the door that is already left ajar, and before she sees Carla’s treasured Bible on the floor.

Her breath catches. “Grandma?”

Carla lies by the couch, eerily still. Sleeping or—

“Don’t worry.” A deep voice cuts through the silence.

Her stomach drops.

Kael.

He sits perched on a stool in the kitchen, stirring something in a cup, gaze eerily calm.

“She’ll be up before you know it.”

He said he would be back in three hours. It has barely been an hour since she left the house.

Veronica’s pulse thunders. “What did you—”

“Here’s the real question though.” He stands, taking his time crossing the room, his presence suffocating. “Where have you been? What did you go there for?”

He stands before her, his presence looming, gaze sharp enough to slice through her flesh. “And who were you with?”

“I—I didn’t—”

His lips curve into a smirk. He leans in, inhaling the scent clinging to her skin.

Then his jaw clenches. He leans back, setting his mug on the coffee table with gentle precision.

“You were with another man.” It isn’t a question. “And you don’t just smell like him, you reek of sex.”

Her body trembles. She doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to lie convincingly.

“You had only one job.” His words slice like a blade, the intensity of his suppressed rage sending a shiver down her spine. “Don’t fucking let another man touch. It was literally so fucking simple.”

He drags in a sharp breath, his muscles taut as he slips his hands into his pockets, a vein sprain across his jaw.

“Another man fucked you, ladybird.” There’s a gentle quiver in his voice, not of vulnerability, but of lethality. “I’m not very excited about that. And do you know what happens when something doesn’t excite me?”

A flash of something dark and deadly flashes in his eyes.

“I do bad, really, really bad things.”

Then he turns, walking toward the exit, the door slamming shut behind him.

She rushes to the kitchen at the same time the sound of an engine roars up the street. The black car stops right in front of him. A soldier steps out immediately, pulling open the door for him, and he slips in, leaving behind the fear he has so carefully wrapped her in.