Page 60 of The Russian Retribution

“Wasn’t it?” I laugh coldly, the only thing I can do through the tears. “I trusted you. I thought you were really here for me. I thought you actually liked me, and this whole time…”

“Not the whole time.” Pain flashes across Erik’s face. “But you… Please, we have to talk about this, but the baby… my baby… I can’t even think. You need help.”

“No,” I remark stiffly, backing up further from Erik. “I don’t need anything from you. Not anymore.”

“Anastasia.”

“I trusted you!” I yell as the pain of betrayal consumes me. “You have no idea how hard that was, and you were investigating me this whole time! Because of stupid laws that you yourself called archaic!”

“I know, I know, but I?—”

“Well, here’s one more tidbit for you before you get the fuck out of here,” I snarl. “You’re wrong.”

“What?”

“I did kill him. I killed my father. I killed thePakhan. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat!”

25

ERIK

“What?”

No. No, this can’t be true. Anastasia’s words aren’t making sense and as I stand there in shock, like someone has just dunked me backward into ice water, my mind races.

There’s no way what she’s saying is true.

It can’t be.

Anastasia isn’t a murderer.

She’s not the kind of person to make a grab for power or to break all of the laws that prevent families from falling into a constant bloodbath until one remains on top. If these laws didn’t exist, then brothers would be slaughtering each other constantly for the top seat in the house. There’s no way.

“No,” I say hoarsely. “You’re just saying that to get a reaction out of me.”

“Am I?” Her eyes are wide and wild, her makeup streaked down her face, and one hand is planted permanently on her lower abdomen. Because she’s pregnant.

I don’t know where to focus first. “You’re lying.”

“Is that what you think of me?” she snaps loudly. “You don’t think I’m capable of something like that, huh? You don’t think I could do something so cold and cruel?”

“You couldn’t! You’re not like that.”

“How the hell would you know?”

“Because I know you.”

“No, you don’t,” Anastasia snarls, and tears cling to her eyelashes. “You only know what I let you see, what your little investigation uncovered, but you don’t know me. Not really. Not the true me!”

Is it meant to hurt this much? I lived in hope that Anastasia would never find out the truth, and my only reason for coming clean was to shock her out of what looked like an impending panic attack. Since she insists on not going to the hospital, it was the only thing I could think of in the moment.

“I do know you,” I say, struggling to keep myself calm. It’s like my intestines have come alive and all my insides are writhing about with panic and uncertainty. “I know how you like to burn your toast a little because it tastes better. I know how you like your tea and that if you fall asleep late, then waking you before ten is a death sentence. I know you so well that you asked for my opinion on Tatiana, so you know that I know you. And you wouldn’t do something so reckless that would put you on a path to be executed.”

“You don’t know shit,” Anastasia snaps, then she winces and almost doubles over.

“Fucking hell, we need to get you to the hospital. Everything else can wait!”

“No,” she growls. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not anymore! Even now, you’re standing there not even listening to me! I did it! I killed him!”

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