Page 49 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

All I know is that I can’t escape the relief that washes over me when the stranger speaks, confirming what I already know in my heart to be true.

“He’s dead,” he tells me again, without any emotion or sympathy. Like he knows I need to hear the truth one more time. “I killed him myself.”

I stare up at his face. The face that’s haunted my dreams these many months.

I never thought I’d ever see him again. I can’t figure out what I’m feeling now that he’s here in front of me, having just murdered my father, the guards, probably the entire staff.

I want to ask more questions. But emotion clogs up my throat and all I can do is keep sobbing.

Papa hated when I cried. He’d slap me across the face and tell me to stop my whining.

I expect the same from this nameless nightmare figure.

But he does nothing. He says nothing.

He just stands there and watches me cry.

When the tears finally subside, I wipe away my tears and look up at him.

“It’s time to go,” he says.

His voice is deep, but strangely familiar. I realize I’ve been hearing his voice in my head for four months now.

I may have forgotten just how piercing those eyes are.

But I remember that voice.

Arrogant as hell. Cold as ice.

Oh, yes—I remember his voice perfectly.

I try not to look away from his eyes, even though I want to. I wonder if he knows the secret I’m keeping with me.

That I’m carrying this man’s baby and I don’t even know his name. He’s just destroyed my home, killed my father.

And he is about to kill me, too.

His hand is still on my wrist. The touch alone is enough to bring me back to the night we met.

I can still feel how his weight nestled between my thighs, pushing into me with forceful passion.

I can still sense the smoky whiskey scent of him flush against my cheek.

I can still remember the way his hands claimed me. Forceful. Irresistible. Dangerous.

This is wrong. He’s belongs to Papa’s world. He’s a monster, too.

He just killed my father. He’s probably killed countless others.

I’m next.

My limbs are weak. My mind goes blank. I feel myself losing grip on reality.

All the while, his hands keep me upright.

I wonder how much time has passed since the moment he entered the room.

Seconds? Minutes? Hours?

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