Page 48 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

He shakes his head and keeps staring at me.

“Yes, it is,” I retort. “It’s a bad dream and I’m going to wake up soon. This isn’t happening. The last four months didn’t happen. The night we met most definitely did not happen.”

“You aren’t dreaming,” the dark-eyed stranger says.

“Am too.”

He sighs in irritation, takes one stride to cross the distance between us, and yanks me to my feet by my wrist.

“No,” he repeats grimly, “you aren’t. Does this feel like you’re dreaming? Do I feel make-believe to you?”

His face is close to mine. Close enough that I can smell sweat, blood, musk, and just a hint of something cool and fragrant beneath it all.

I want to keep living in denial.

But he’s right. The man from The Siren is right.

He’s very, very real.

Which means everything else is real, too.

The one-night-stand. The pregnancy test. The explosions.

It’s all real. It’s all happening.

Somehow, I drag my eyes up from the floor to meet the man’s gaze. His irises are even darker than I remember. Like pools of oil. Searing right through me.

“Is everyone dead?” I ask numbly.

He nods. “They’re either dead already or they will be soon.”

I shudder and close my eyes. “My father, too?”

The question is heavy with emotion that I’m too overwhelmed to fully process.

He doesn’t blunt his words.

“Yes,” he tells me. “Him, too.”

I open my eyes and stare back at him for a long time. He watches my face carefully. I’m trying so hard not to cry.

Don’t cry, Esme,I scold myself.Not now. Not in front of him.

In the end, it’s a losing battle. I bury my face in my hands and let loose.

Sobs tear through me as I try and fight for control.

I’m overwhelmed, I’m conflicted, I’m scared but most of all… I’m relieved.

Papa is dead.

And I’m relieved?

That’s the first thing that I feel the moment he says the words.

Does that make me an awful person? Does that make a terrible daughter?

I don’t know.

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