Page 106 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

Oh, God. I said those words. I did.

Which begs the question… is this all my fault?

Did I bring this on?

Were my thoughts about Damon so dark and twisted and bitter that, deep down, some part of me really did wish for this?

And Gavril, my Gavril… The man I thought I knew. The man I thought I was, just maybe, starting to even love …

The door jingles.

“Ma’am? You can’t sit there.” It’s the cashier from the store whose steps I’m currently sobbing on.

I stand up. “Sorry, I was just …”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” Seeing my tears, the teenage boy takes a step back. “I’m sorry. You just do what you need to.”

I leave, my head pounding. A month ago, that exchange would have gone very differently. I would’ve been sent away unceremoniously. No apology. No nothing. Back when I was living on the streets, I had people boot me out of empty storefronts just to do it, let alone the stairs in front of their store.

But now, because I’m different … no, just because Ilookdifferent.

Really, at the end of the day, I’m not that different. I have different clothes, different hair, a slightly different, cleaner, better-fed face and body; Gavril made sure of all that. But deep down, how different am I?

Or are there insidious changes going on below the surface too, ones that I don’t even realize?

Am I becoming the type of cruel person who revels in other’s pain?

There’s only one thing I can think to do now. I call a taxi and use some of the money, courtesy of Gavril, that’s sat unused for weeks in my pink snakeskin wallet, also courtesy of Gavril.

I direct the cabbie to take me to Mom’s apartment building, get buzzed in, and go to her door. As soon as her front door opens, the tears start. I try wiping them away with the back of my hand. “I’m sorry, Mom. I just …”

She takes me into her arms, letting the door shut behind me. “Honey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Why does the world have to be so cruel?” I sob into her shoulder.

Mom doesn’t know what to say to that, only hugs me tighter.

We go over to the couch, and I can’t stop the tears, the words. “Like the rich guy you had me with, the one who just disappeared after, didn’t you ever wish, ever think …”

Mom smooths the hair on my head, looking at me oddly. It’s an unspoken agreement that we don’t talk about him. He is my father through biology only, nothing more.

“’Course I did,” she says quietly. “Not many girls, I think, wish to be single moms when they grow up.” A little laugh. “But then, you grew up, and I realized how lucky I was, single mom or not. I had the greatest kid going. And, sometimes, great things can come out of terrible beginnings.”

It sounds like a Batman or Spiderman quote, and I’m in too horrible of a mood to accept it.

“There has to be a line somewhere,” I find myself saying. “There has to be a point where something is too bad, has gone too far.”

Mom is looking at me with compassion, but the tears are still coming. And the thoughts, the sensations, one rolling after the other.

He did it for you, you know,says some sick, twisted voice of reason in my brain. But in some ways, that’s the worst part of all—how excited Gavril was, how sure he was I’d love his surprise.

God, what has my life become? How could I have so misjudged Gavril, my freaking husband?

Because you married him for money, is why. And when red flags popped up, you looked the other way, like you were paid to do.

My hands clench.

No, Gavril never paid me for that. Never mentioned that.

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