Page 89 of Unspoken

"You need to stop talking, Sasha."

"Or what? You’re going to kill me too?"

"Goddamn it!"

"Fucking cunt! Rot in he—"

"He murdered Mama." The words fall heavy and dark between us, splintering the floors underfoot.

I’m speechless all of a sudden, everything is finally starting to make sense. How she was just no longer alive one day. Too young to have a stroke.

"It’s a bloody joke, isn’t it?" I whisper, reeling from the shock. My breathing is taking a dive, I realize. As if there’s no more oxygen left in this room.

"Do you think I would joke about something like this?"

"I have no clue. I don’t even know you anymore."

"Listen to me—"

"Shut up!" Anger in my chest flares up. I’m starting to suffocate for real. I don’t know if it’s a panic attack or an actual heart attack. But I feel like I’m breaking into a million pieces, like I’m about to drop to the floor. My knees are so weak and my stomach is churning.

I can't stay here, not a second longer. Not with this revelation wrapping its fingers around my neck. I storm out, every step a hammer blow, leaving Vlad—a statue once again—in my wake.

Corridors and rooms blur past me, walls lined with ancestral stoicism watching my flight. Ivan looks up from his post, his stern face etched with concern, but I don't stop.

Can't stop.

There's no space for words or explanations, only the need to put distance between me and this house of horrors.

The garage greets me with the smell of oil and rubber—a scent now tainted with betrayal. I grab the first fob my hand comes across from the series of hooks and press the button. A bright red sports car, a BMW, winks back at me. I climb inside. My hands are shaking as they wrap around the steering wheel. The vehicle growls to life beneath my touch and before I know it, I’m driving.

Right side of the road, dickhead. Right side of the road, I have to remind myself but it seems like such an unimportant detail right now.

The tires scream their fury as I take a sharp turn and steer into the traffic.

Open road stretches ahead, a void swallowing me whole. Tears well, unbidden, streaming down to mingle with the taste of salt on my lips. Every drop blurs the world outside, but it doesn't matter. Nothing does anymore. At least not in this moment.

CHAPTER 30

LOGAN

My only day off this week is almost over and I lie in bed, anxious, because Sasha promised he’d speak to Vlad. But the glow of my phone illuminating the empty space beside me is my only unlikely companion tonight. It's been hours since Sasha swore to call, to finally let me know how it went with his brother. But silence greets me every time I check the phone.

With a frustrated sigh, I set it on the nightstand, the clunk echoing through my small apartment. Oddly, this place feels too big, too quiet without Sasha's laughter bouncing off the walls, without his silly British slang confusing me at every turn. He hasn't been here enough times, but already he’s embedded himself into every inch of this place, making it almost impossible to be here without him.

I close my eyes, willing sleep to come, but it evades me like a shadow. My mind drifts to Sasha, picturing him pacing nervously, his hands running through that soft blond hair as he works up the courage to confront Vlad. But deep down, I know the truth.

He chickened out again.

Just like last time. And the time before that. Always an excuse, always a reason to keep hiding, to keep pretending wedon't mean something to each other. I offered to do this with him, but he refused, saying he needed to do this alone.

I roll over and I press my face into the pillow, the fabric cool against my skin.

Ma, am I doing the right thing?

Is this even going to work between us?

But again, silence is the only response.

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