Page 17 of Ruling Scar
It started with a photo of a pizza box and what looked to be Max’s living room. Not that I remember it well, but I visited once with Nat and Roma a couple of years back.
Elijah: Checking on my sister-in-law as you requested. Showed her how to use the TV.
Lennie: She didn’t know how to use the TV?
I shouldn’t have texted back because he took it to mean I now required a text update. I’m sent something almost weekly. Never anything major, but little tidbits.
And what do I do with said tidbits?
Gobble them the fuck up.
I keep telling myself it’s because I find Russet fascinating. She’s pretty and cool and reminds me of Ren in that she always keeps it together when life freaks out.
But also no one ever texts me.
It wasn’t until this new group chat with Isolde and Ren that I finally had some social interaction.
And I’m not exaggerating. When I told Janis about my social life, I explained the last person to text me was my favorite coffee shop updating me on my rewards. The next text came from my mom two days before that and then Nat a week before.
Maybe it’s pathetic. I know Elijah isn’t doing it to be friendly. He always wants something. Even if they only appear now and again, I can’t help but notice how I smile in interest when a new message appears.
I don’t respond often but it doesn’t matter. I thought eventually, they’d died out, but if anything they’ve amped up.
Especially the past couple of months.
Elijah: I didn’t realize you frequent Fujimori’s.
He sent me that one after he spotted me at the restaurant. For the first time, I struggled to understand the tone of his message. The ones before were obnoxiously perky.
This one for some reason seemed. . . colder. Almost like he was annoyed he didn’t know something about my life.
Elijah keeps tabs on people. It’s how he stays ahead. People don’t realize he’s the enemy until he destroys them.
It’s why my mother constantly told us to stay away from him.
But here I am receiving his texts like the pick-me I’ve always been.
Elijah: Merry Christmas, Leonora!
There’s a photo attached of the Zimins in front of their ginormous Christmas tree, the warm lights haloing the group. Max hugs Russet tightly and in the very front, Lev cradles a baby. Elijah’s nearby with a giant, fluffy dog at his side.
Elijah: I can’t help but notice you didn’t leave me a present under the tree. I assume it’s on its way?
“Who’s that?” Adeline asks, sneaking up.
The phone falls against my chest. “Nothing.”
She leans in to whisper, “Are you texting your new friends?”
I’m saved from answering when Dad pulls his phone out and begins talking to himself in Russian. This is just one of many Boris Akatov’s strange mannerisms.
He’s also poured himself a glass of vodka, much needed after Adeline’s long-winded and one-sided discussion on dark romance tropes.
“What is it, Dad?” Nat asks.
“Lev’s first Christmas as a grandfather.”
Adeline skedaddles over, peeking at his phone.
