Page 51 of Hell Hath No Fury

“Does it even matter?”

“For fuck’s sake, stop answering a question with a question,” Antoinette snarls, her fingers suddenly digging into the woundon his neck. “I know there’s no point in hitting you, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be fun.”

She releases him, and his grin is back almost instantly. He raises a brow at her as if he’s daring her to take another hit. I smack Antoinette on the arm, and when she glances at me, I say, “Can we just get to the point here?”

Nodding, Antoinette asks, “Is your mother like a scorned lover or some shit?”

“Something like that,” he mutters. “Though I can’t imagine why, given the fact she should have been happy to have old man Petrov’s attention elsewhere. He was far from charming on a good day.”

“Petrov,” I murmur quietly. My blood runs cold, and my guts churn at the mention of a man who terrorized me when I was barely into womanhood. “That’s putting it lightly. He was a cruel, vindictive bastard on a good day. Heaven forbid you caught him on a bad one.”

“Exactly,” Dmitri exclaims. “I tried to tell her she should just get on with her life and be happy he’s forgotten her, but she was so fucking bitter to have him obsessed with someone other than her, she couldn’t see it for the blessing it was.”

“She some kind of masochist?”

Dmitri frowns. “You know, I’ve never really thought about it for obvious reasons, but she’s definitely some type of sadist.”

“What makes you say that?”

He peers up at me, his expression blank. “For the way she treated you.”

My heart stutters in my chest, a sudden lump in my throat choking me. I attempt to reply and fail. He continues to look at me passively, his expression completely devoid of emotion, as he adds, “You may not remember, considering how ill you were during your stay with us. Ill from abuse and then ill from the child.”

I manage to swallow the lump in my throat and choke out, “She was part of it?”

Dmitri nods, his eyes now staring vacantly somewhere behind me. “In some ways, she was the mastermind. I overheard her talking to someone about a plan to overthrow my father, and then, not even a week later, you showed up. It took me a bit to understand what was happening, and by the time I did, it was too late for me to do anything. My mother used to intentionally wind my father up and then put you in his path, knowing you’d take the brunt of whatever punishment she earned for herself—“

“If she helped engineer it,” Antoinette interrupts. “Then why be mad when it worked?”

“Because it worked a bit too well. My father became obsessed with Lilith and refused to send her back. My mother got shoved on the back burner and eventually was shipped off entirely. She left me behind with instructions to get rid of the problem, though I’m relatively certain she meant permanently, and most certainly, she didn’t mean for me to get myself caught and be banished with her.”

I frown, my words barely a whisper. “She wanted you to kill me?”

“Oh, yes,” he says frankly. “But if you leave an amateur with such a serious task, you get what you get.”

Antoinette steps closer, her hands stuffed into her pockets. “What did you do?”

“Obviously, I saved you instead,” he responds quietly. “Got my ass beat for it, too. Fuck, I basically got disowned for it, but I never regretted it—not for one minute.”

“How did you save her?” Antoinette asks, her expression pinched.

His gaze shifts to hers as he replies, “I caught a strange man poking around, and rather than turn him in, I listened to him. Then I helped him take her.”

“Mickey,” I whisper. “Mickey came for me.”

Dmitri nods, smiling faintly. “He’s one tough fucker. Honestly, he could’ve gutted me in a heartbeat, but he chose not to. Still not sure why.”

“How old were you?”

“I don’t know,” he answers softly. “Maybe eight.”

My laugh comes out bitter. “Mickey doesn’t gut children.”

“Well, that’s a novelty,” he retorts. “I think if she had not needed me for her own survival, she’d have gutted me in a heartbeat. She was furious when I showed up with a note to stay gone, or he’d either cut us off or kill us.”

Antoinette’s expression is grim, and I’m certain her thought process is running along the same lines as mine. Horror. A tinge of sadness. Rage.

“What did you tell Antonio?”

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