Page 124 of Ivory Oath

“Because that’s not what you need.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what I need!” I hiss, top lip curled back like a hyena. “Don’t steal my son from me in the middle of the night and then dare to tell me what I need.”

“I didn’t steal him. We agreed to send him to the school,” he explains with infuriating calm. “You know it’s the right choice.”

I fling myself at him again. This time, I take aim at his annoyingly pretty mouth. That’s what got us into this mess in the first place. Everything sounds better when it comes from a face like that.

My fist cracks against his jaw. It’s the first half-solid punch I’ve landed. As soon as I do, pain radiates up my arm.

“Ow! Shit!” I pull back and Mikhail follows me.

His face is creased with worry. For me. I just punched him in the jaw and he’s concerned about me.

“I hate you,” I spit one more time, shoving him away from me.

I try, at least. Mikhail doesn’t budge. He reaches for my hand, trying to inspect it. “Did you break something?”

I draw my foot back and kick him in the shin. Finally, he grunts, but he doesn’t stop trying to triage my hand. Meanwhile, my toes feel like I just kicked a steel beam.

“What are you, the fucking Bionic Man?” I grimace, hopping on my good foot and flexing my toes. “Goddammit!”

Mikhail growls in frustration. Then he grabs me by the arms, picks me up, and toes shattered wood and clothes out of the way to drop me on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t touch me!” I try to twist away from him, but he pins me in place.

“Then stop trying to punch me!” he snaps, his calm finally withering away. “You’re hurting yourself.”

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t act like you care about me now. You’re a liar. You told me we would take Dante together. ‘We made this decision together, Viviana.’”

“We did.”

“You lied! You did what you thought was best without asking me.”

“Because you can’t be rational when it comes to Dante.”

“Don’t do that!” I shriek, jabbing a finger at him. “Don’t treat me like some insane, emotional woman!”

He throws his hands in the air, flailing around to highlight the carnage I left in my wake. “Look around, Viviana. This looks pretty insane!”

He’s not wrong. The room is destroyed. It’s going to take the entire staff all day to clean this up. We’ll need a new bed. New art on the walls. A new dresser.

The destruction is sobering in ways I wish it wasn’t, so I focus on Mikhail. On the pain that cuts through me like the knife I hurled at Anatoly when he tried to defend Mikhail’s actions. Every time I look at Mikhail’s face and remember what he did—that Dante is gone—my chest aches.

“And you look pretty heartless.” I jab at the rip I left in his shirt, directly over his heart. Like I was trying to claw my way through his skin and rip it, still beating, out of his chest. “I should have known better.”

He arches a brow. “Known better about what?”

“I should have known better than to trust you. I mean, look at your father! Your brother!” I can feel my mouth running away with me, but I don’t hit the brakes. I slam on the gas, actually, leaning forward to fling every word at him. “You pretend to be better than them, but you’re a Novikov through and through. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

For the first time, Mikhail flinches.

Finally, I’ve landed a blow… and it doesn’t feel at all like I thought it would.

“Do you feel better?” Mikhail asks evenly after a painful moment has dragged past us.

My teeth grind together. I clench my jaw to keep myself from blurting out the truth.

“Because if you’re done,” he rasps, “it’s my turn to tell you what I know about you.”

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