Page 183 of Ruins

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Her name bursts from my throat as I whirl around, heading for the master bedroom. My mind spins, my blood hot with rage, my vision already darkening at the edges.

If she’s in his bed—

I will rip her from his arms and kill my own brother with my bare fucking hands.

I shove the door open—

Empty.

My stomach churns.

She isn’t here.

I stagger back into the living room, frustration, jealousy, and an all-consuming rage rolling through me in violent waves.

Then I see it.

Two mugs of coffee.

Empty plates.

My hands curl into fists as I reach for one of the mugs, my fingers brushing over the ceramic.

Warm.

Still fucking warm.

My heart stumbles in my chest as my eyes flick to the delicate lipstick print on the rim.

She wasjusthere.

The realization slams into me like a freight train. I sink onto the couch, my lungs dragging in uneven breaths.

Then something else catches my eye.

Blue.

On the floor, crumpled by the couch, is a silk nightgown.

Hers.

Vasilisa’s.

The delicate lace trim, the fabric that usually frames her body skin tight, softness that I’ve traced as I carried her up the stairs...

And now it’s discarded.

Here.

Inhisliving room.

A roar builds in my chest, my vision blurring as red creeps into the edges of my mind.

Hetookher.

Brought herhere.

Without my knowledge.

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