Page 144 of Cain
After twenty-three years, his mother’s Rubik’s Cube sits solved in front of him.
His hand trembles and his gaze lifts to meet mine.
He looks at me like he doesn’t quite believe it. It’s like he needs me to confirm that it’s real.
I smile brightly. “You did it.”
He exhales a breath he must’ve been holding for years. His fingers loosen around the cube, but he doesn’t let go. “I did it,” he repeats. “I fucking did it.”
“She would be so proud of you,” I breathe with a smile.
He exhales sharply.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Before he speaks, the door knocks twice and then opens.
“Cain?” Grayson says with an almost worried expression. “A package arrived.”
“From whom?” Cain asks.
Grayson shakes his head. “It doesn’t say.” He looks at me. “It’s for you, Miss Ružicková.”
Cain takes a few steps and stands right next to me. “What is in the package, Grayson?”
Grayson hesitates; his troubled eyes land on me again. “Maybe you shouldn’t see this, Katerina.”
Cain snaps. His face hardens, and without another word, he turns and marches out of the room. I don’t think. I follow him into the foyer.
The package is there. He doesn’t hesitate. He rips it open with brutal force, flinging the top off like it’s something that disgusts him.
I shouldn’t have looked. But I did.
My knees give in. My breath catches in my throat, and my fingertips go numb.
“Emily?” The word breaks as it leaves my mouth.
Emily’s head is soaked in blood, her eyes wide and pale, her red lipstick smeared across her face.
Two initials are carved into her forehead.
W. F.
Oh my God, my poor Emily.
He turns toward me. His eyes burn, green and feral. There’s nothing human in them now—just fury.
“This is a declaration of war,” he growls through clenched teeth. “I’ll carve that bastard open and let the dogs fight over the scraps of his fucking face.”
This bastard has taken it too far. He’s usingmytricks against me? My fucking tricks?
I’ll rip that smug look off his face and make him remember exactly who the fuck I am. I’ll make him choke on every fucked-up word he ever fed me, every sick little game he thought I didn’t understand.
And now the son of a bitch wants to act like I’m just another pawn on his board, following the rules?
Fine. I’ll play.
I’ll flip the whole fucking board. I’ll rip the pieces out of his hands and shove them down his goddamn throat.
