Page 112 of Sapphire Tears

The truth is, if it was just me, I wouldn’t have been able to hurt my brother, no matter what he’d done. No matter how many times he came at me. No matter how hard he tried to destroy me.

But for them…

I’d kill him a thousand times over.

47

JUNE

“June, you need to eat something.”

I shove away the piece of bread that Geneva is offering me. “I can’t,” I whimper. “I can’t eat anything until he comes back home.”

Sara slips into the breakfast nook. “You need to eat for the baby, June,” she advises. Her voice sounds like she looks: flat, pale, tired.

“If I eat, I’ll just throw it all up.”

Geneva gets to her feet and meanders towards one of the window seats that overlooks the garden. It’s still dark out, but the sun should be coming out any minute now. The air is chalky with predawn chill, and insects cluster at the glass panes in search of heat.

Despite the early hour, Geneva is fully dressed. She claimed that she’d gotten a few hours of solid sleep, but the dark circles under her eyes give her away.

She’s been pestering me to eat for the last half hour, but she hasn’t touched a single bite of food herself. As soon as she thinks I’m not looking, she lets all the sparkle fade from her eyes.

Like the rest of us, she’s gray on the inside.

Sara takes the chair that Geneva just vacated. “He’ll come back,” she assures me. “And when he does, he’s going to be very irritated to hear that you’ve been starving yourself.”

“If he’s pissed, then at least it means he’s alive. So I won’t care.”

Sara rears back. “He’s not going to die.”

“How do you know?” I press. “Milana seemed invincible, too—until she wasn’t.”

My voice wobbles and wilts. I feel like a raw nerve ending. Even the slightest touch, as well-meaning as it may be, is the worst thing I’ve ever felt.

I shake my head and get to my feet. “I can’t do this. I can’t just sit here and wait.” Geneva and Sara start to protest, but I ignore them and fly out of the kitchen wing towards the front door.

One of his men, someone I don’t recognize, is standing by the door. “Where’s Knox?” I ask.

“He left with the don,” the man replies.

“Bring me a car.”

His eyes go wide. “Pardon, ma’am?”

“There are a dozen cars in the garage. Bring me one,” I say, using the same tone that Kolya uses when he means business.

“Ma’am…” He glances behind me at Sara and Geneva, who are clustered at the doorway. Neither one of them has uttered a word.

“It wasn’t a question. Bring me a car. Now.”

This whole situation is so fucked. A nightmare inside of a nightmare. But I’m done begging and pleading with whoever is in charge of the dreams to make me wake up.

I’m stuck here?

Fine.

I’m going to fucking own it.

---