Page 30 of The Wraith & Her Killer

“You can’t,” I blurt before I can stop the words from tumbling past my trembling lips.

“Odessa—”

“Please, Papa,” I cry, clutching the fabric of my black dress sotight that my nails threaten to puncture the fabric. “Don’t do this. Icannotmarry this man.”

Boris squeezes my leg again and it makes me wince in pain. My father tracks the reaction from my leg to Boris’ arm. I expect him to rage. To yell. To doany-fucking-thingto defend his daughter… but he just sits there, swirling the ice around in his tumbler with an ankle thrown so casually over his knee.

Something cracks within me with finality. His lack of compassion or empathy speaks so much louder than his words ever could.

He heaves a heavy sigh, leaning forward with his hands clasping the glass between his palms and his elbows resting on his knees. Right now he doesn’t look like my father. The man I grew up with nothing but love and respect for. This is Mikhail Kuznetsov—brutal Pakhan to the Kuznetsov bratva of Chicago.

His dark eyes, so like mine, are cold and empty when he looks at me. The next words to pass his lips practically sound like a sneer.

“The wedding is set for three weeks from now. I’ve made all the arrangements. For your own health, I think it best if you remained in your room to rest until then. Perhaps it will help with all the bruising.”

“Papa,” I rasp, shaking my head, causing a lone tear to roll down my cheek.

“Boris, may I have a word alone with my daughter?”

“Of course, sir.” The man bows his head in faux respect, casting a chilling glance my way before exiting the room.

My father stands and crosses the room to fill his glass again.

“You will marry Boris.” He takes a sip. “For years and years I yearned for having my daughter back. Not knowing who or what had taken you from me, it practically killed me Odessa.”

“So imagine my surprise when I found out that you had eventually whored yourself out to not only the very man who kidnapped you, but the very same man who murdered your mother. There is no world where I could marry you off for protection or business. There is no boss or underboss who would willingly take you for a wife afterwhat you’ve done. Fortunately for you, Boris is the only one willing to overlook such a situation.”

And there it is. The final piece of me to wither away until I’m nothing more than a living hollow shell. Alive, yet no longer willing to live.

Not even forhim.

I am nothing.

A true wraith.

Still, I can’t help but try and defend myself even though my words will fall on deaf ears.

“You think I willingly gave myself tothatman?” I ask, pushing to stand and face my father. “The vile creature who murdered my mother? Stole me from my family? From—” I stop myself from confessing about my connection to Adris. “Boris is the one who orchestrated the whole thing! I don’t know why you wont believe me! What could I possibly have to lose, Papa? Boris is a traitor, a backstabbing piece of trash who shot and killed his own son! He has this detailed, elaborate plan to overthrow you the first chance he g?—”

Slap.

My face whips to the side and instantly, my face burns. Tears sting my eyes but I don’t dare let them fall. I refuse to touch the mark when I look back to the man who is nothing more to me than the very same kind of monster who stole me away.

“I have had enough of these fucking delusions, Odessa. Boris has shown me nothing but undying loyalty for longer than you’ve been alive. Your lies will not persuade me to change my mind. You’re of no use to me if you can’t bring about an alliance, so this is my only other option to protect you.”

I can’t help the scoff that falls from my lips as I take a step back. “Yeah? Well, if he’s so fucking great, you marry him. God knows you love keeping secret affairs around here.”

I can see the blow coming before he even raises a hand, but beforemy father can hit me again or choke me to death for my insolence, Boris barges back in.

“Mikhail—” he barks, striding across the room and coming to a stop next to me. “It’s been a long day and we’re all hurt and mourning. Let me take my fiancée to her room.”

Fiancée. I don’t fucking think so.

I internally shudder at his words, but my father merely nods after staring at me with such cold eyes that I can feel the chill of them deep in my bones.

“See to it that she’s properly secured.”

“Of course,” he says, bowing his head.

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