Page 152 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

ALEKS

The truth.

People think it’s a simple thing. Or that it’s even a thing at all.

But it’s not—or if it is, it’s not just one thing. It’s a thousand things melted together.

Everyone has a different truth. They carve off the portions they don’t like, mold it and twist it to shape their own needs. They deal in half-truths so they can keep themselves as the hero of their own story, the center of their own universe.

But the truth is ugly.

And sometimes, the only way to truly understand the beating heart of it is with a lie.

“Have you been talking to the wrong people again, Olivia?”

“Who are the wrong people, Aleks?” she challenges. “Anyone who claims you’re the villain?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Ah, so I’m the villain again?”

“You were always the villain. I was just too blind and foolish to see it.”

“Blinded by what exactly?”

She turns so I can’t see her face. “It doesn’t matter.”

I grab her hand and twist her back around. I won’t let her avoid me—avoid this—any longer. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

I can see the betrayal in her eyes. She’s trying to play her part, trying to keep control of her emotions, but she’s not practiced at it. Deception is utterly alien to her.

Maybe that’s why she’s managed to sink beneath my skin and stay there like a cancer I can’t get rid of. Her innocence and naivete helped her slip past all my defenses.

It was an unwelcome intrusion at first. But now?

Now, I can’t bear to cut her out of me.

“Aleks,” she says. “Please…”

“I can’t know what you’re talking about unless you tell me, Olivia.”

“If you don’t know by now, then what’s the freaking point?” she cries out.

I sigh and go for the door. She grabs hold of my arm in a panic and forces me to turn around. Her chest nearly bumps into mine, but she stiffens like a board to keep from touching me as much as possible.

“You’re giving me some mixed signals here, Olivia,” I remark. “But I take it you’re angry about something.”

“I’m angry abouteverything.”

I nod. “And I’m guessing most of that anger has to do with me?”

She shakes her head, searching for a satisfying answer to all her questions. “Why couldn’t things have been different? Why couldn’t you have been different?” She’s talking to herself as much as to me. “I can’t help thinking how easy things would have been if you’d just been… a normal guy.”

I snort. “That sounds like a nightmare.”

“Does it?” she asks. “It sounds kind of… wonderful to me.”

“Does it?” I retort. “Something tells me you wouldn’t be satisfied if I wasn’t who I am. You’ve been down that road, Olivia. You know where it leads. You stayed onthispath for a reason.”

She blinks slowly. “I didn’t seek out danger, you know? You’re the one who came after me.”

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