Page 18 of Beautiful Scar

But I guess he doesn’t know about the baby clause.

“Thanks, big brother, but I’ll be okay. Tigran doesn’t seem that bad.”

Evan’s mouth twitches, and he looks toward the door. Then he comes closer to me, his voice lowering. “How much do you know about your new husband?”

“Nothing,” I admit honestly.

“I did some digging last night after the wedding. Tigran Sarkissian is really bad news. I’m not telling you this to scare you?—”

“Great, thanks, you’re doing a fantastic job,” I say, trying not to sound shrill as panic rises. “How bad are we talking here?” I remember Dad’s fear the night before, and the dots start to connect.

“From what I understand, he’s the Brotherhood’s top enforcer. The guy’s absolutely brutal, Dasha. They say he’s killed at least a dozen of his own family members. Uncles, cousins, anyone who wouldn’t accept his brother’s control. They’re terrified of him down there.”

I wrap my arms around my knees and hug them to my chest. Earlier this morning, I was in his lap. He stroked my scar and spoke to me in that low, soothing baritone of his, and it actually worked. He brought me back from the brink of a serious panic attack.

It’s hard to connect those gentle hands with the man Evan’s talking about.

But I know he’s right. I saw it in Dad’s eyes. That raw fear. It’s even in the way Tigran carries himself, like he knows the world is terrified of him.

And he thinks it should be.

“What do you want me to do about it?” I ask finally, forcing myself to stay calm and centered. I’m not going to have my second panic attack of the day before noon. I can at least save one for after dinner, as a little treat.

“Nothing. I don’t know. I’m just pissed and trying to warn you. I don’t want this for you.”

“I don’t want it for me, either, but this marriage is important.”

“You’re buying that shit too?”

I shake my head. “No, not to me, but to everyone else. They’re not going to let me get out of it even if I beg. It’s too late. I’m trapped.”

The cage bars. The space heater turned to maximum. Sweat rolling down my skin. The knife blade rattling inches from my face.

Trapped all over again.

Evan grunts and sits down beside me. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and tugs me close. I let him give me an awkward, sideways hug. We’ve never been really physically affectionate, even if we are close. That’s just not his style.

I must really be screwed.

“We’ll find a way,” he says, but he can’t really believe that. I sure as heck don’t. I’m a mentally broken hermit, not a moron. “And if we can’t, maybe I’ll?—”

“You’ll what?” I ask gently, fighting tears. “Move to Baltimore so we can hang out once a week? Come kill my monster husband? Save me from the Armenians? Come on, Evan. We both know that’s not happening. Can’t we just enjoy this little time?”

He stiffens. His jaw works. I know it’s not easy for him, giving up like this. But I’ve learned over the years that it’s better to be soft and pliant.

You don’t break if you can bend and twist.

“Yeah, all right, Dash.” He pushes off the bed and gets up. “This place is a dump, you know that?”

“I’mpacking.” I throw an old shirt at him. He catches it, makes a face, and tosses it aside. “Are you going to help, or are you going to keep whining?”

“Probably both,” he grumbles. “Well, why don’t you tell me about the hotel? What was it like going back out into the world?”

I smile to myself. Evan’s a good brother. He doesn’t want to do this, and he sure as heck doesn’t care about the hotel, but he’s trying.

That’s more than Dad’s done. I’ve barely seen him.

We talk about normal things while I fill a couple of suitcases. I’m bringing everything I need for the next few weeks, and Evan promises to send some more stuff through the mail when I need it.

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