Page 220 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

“How did he change?” Artem asks.

I realize that we’ve now fallen into a fully-fledged conversation about Cesar and I feel my heartbeat pick up a little.

“Little ways,” I reply. “It was a look in his eyes more than anything, like he’d seen too much of the world to be hopeful or optimistic. His smile became sad. He started talking a lot about death…”

I trail off remembering little snippets of conversations that I’d long since pushed into the recesses of my memory.

“He loved the beach,” I continue. “But after Papa started his training, I started to feel like a part of himneededthe ocean. He used to go there every chance he got. Sometimes, he’d wake up in the middle of the night and go for a run.”

An old memory resurfaces. I had been a teenager and Cesar had been in the family business for years at that point.

“Cesar?”

“Little bird. What are you doing up so late?”

“What are you doing up so late?” I counter.

“I went for a run.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

“I needed to clear my head.”

“What’s in your head?”

“Monsters, little Esme.”

I pause, trying to see his features past the darkness. He looks like my brother and yet sometimes, I look at his face and see a stranger staring back at me.

“Does the running help get rid of the monsters?” I ask.

“No, nothing can do that,” Cesar replies. “But for a little while at least, I manage to outrun them.”

“You talk in riddles now. You do realize that, right?” I tell him.

He smiles. “No, I don’t,” he says. “You just don’t understand me yet.”

I frown. “I’m not a child anymore. I’m thirteen.”

“Stop trying to grow up so fast,” he says harshly. “I would give anything to be thirteen again.”

“Because you didn’t have monsters then?” I surmise.

Cesar gives me a little wink. “Exactly.”

I move forward and reach for his hand. He doesn’t lean in to touch me as easily as he used to. Sometimes, it feels like he wants to put distance between us, as though my presence hurts him in some way.

It might sting if I didn’t know how much he loves me.

“You need to remove the mask sometimes, Cesar,” I tell him. “If you wear the mask all the time, the monsters in your head will only get bigger.”

He looks at me in amazement for a moment. Then he smiles softly. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you understand more than I give you credit for. Goodnight, little bird.”

He leans in, kisses my forehead.

And then goes into his room before I can say goodnight in return.

59

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