Page 40 of Lethal Alliance

“Aw, look at that.” Vilnus’s smile widens. “Even now, he still seems to care what happens to you. I guess that’s what happens when you’re a boy’s first love. You picked the wrong brother, Inger. You’d have had this one following you around like a puppy forever.”

“Nicky!” Inger shrieks, struggling in vain against the guard as Alexei grips her hand. “No, Vilnus, you can’t do this!”

His smile doesn’t falter. “Oh, but I can, Inger. And so much worse.” He nods at Alexei.

I don’t see the cut of the blade.

But the sound of it slicing through flesh and bone is a sound I will remember for the rest of my life.

As is my mother’s scream.

13

DARYA

Roman doesn’t speak for the rest of the way back to Malaga.

I know I’ve insulted him by implying that he’s underestimating Vilnus. Maybe, if I’m honest, I wanted to insult him.

It’s not fair. It’s not rational. But knowing that Roman is already a father has shaken me more than I knew it could.

Not because I’m jealous, or envious of his relationship with Ofelia. Nothing could be any further from the truth. If anything, I’m thrilled for Ofelia that she has a living father, particularly one of Roman’s caliber. In some unconscious part of myself, I’m not even entirely surprised.

Of all the children, Ofelia has always resembled Roman the most. Particularly in her nature, the way she intuitively protects her siblings. More than once, I’ve had my breath taken away by the opaque expression that is so much like Roman’s, when she tucks her emotions away in some deep part inside her. It breaks my heart that they have been deprived of one another all these years, denied the relationship they both deserve.

No. It’s not Ofelia’s paternity that upsets me.

It’s the way Roman talks about it.

He’s entirely dispassionate, as if it’s a story that happened to someone else. Not once has he expressed any emotion about the relationship or given any indication that he is excited—or even moved—by the discovery. He avoids any question related to how he feels about being a father, and it doesn’t take a genius to see that he’s telling me barely the beginning of the situation with Inger.

I despise Inger, not just for what she’s done now with her own children, but long before that, for the many ways she let them down and used them for her own ends. I loathe her even more for depriving Roman of his daughter, and Ofelia of her father, for so long.

I know Roman can be an incredible father. Just watching the way he’s opened up to the children over the past months is proof enough that he has the capacity to love and protect them, to be the father they need.

But is that simply because he’s one step removed, a godfather who is legally responsible for them? Now that he knows he is Ofelia’s father, will he suddenly change, put a distance between himself and her? I know better than anyone how hard it is for Roman to allow himself to care, to open up. Given how hard it has been for him to express emotion to me, how much more will he fear exposing himself and his heart to his own child?

And what about the baby inside me?

Will he be willing to take that next step, to be all our child needs him to be?

We’ve never even discussed marriage, let alone children. And given the way Roman has reacted to the news of Ofelia being his daughter, I’m not at all certain how he’s going to react to my news.

Either way, now certainly isn’t the time to tell him about it. Until we have the girls back, my news will have to wait.

I settle back into my seat, staring out the window, trying my hardest not to tremble at the thought of Ofelia in Vilnus Orlov’s hands.

The thought makes me physically sick with fear.

I meant what I said to Roman, insulting as he might have found it. Nobody knows what Vilnus Orlov is capable of more than I do. Not even my father or brother know the depths of his depravity.

I close my eyes, trying to sleep, to push the nightmare memories down to the place I’ve kept them for years. I don’t want to remember, but the news of the girls’ capture seems to have opened the floodgates to the past. The images rise despite my will, sickening and close enough to smell on the late-night air.

“You should be engagedby now, Darya.”

It’s past midnight, and I’m alone in my room. The guards on my door belong to Vilnus and stand aside without question when he comes on these late-night visits.

Since I turned twenty-one a month ago, the visits have been happening more and more often.

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