Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Andrei’s chuckle filled the room as he walked out.
Katya picked up the cat and stared at me like I was a monster.
“Is the cat a shield or a weapon?”
“Both.” She held him up. He hissed at me instantly. His sweater was also knit and had the grinch on it; how fitting. “What’s his name?”
“He’s declawed,” I pointed out. “His name’s Bagel, and please don’t ask why Chase named him, and it stuck, and every time it gets brought up, everyone gets extremely uncomfortable, so I just call him Bitch.” I pulled out a chair next to her. “So, should we play twenty questions?”
“I have nothing to learn from you.” She lifted her chin.
“Good.” I shrugged and got up, having expected her answer, needing her to send me away. “Leave the compound without telling me, and it’s both our asses.”
“Wait—” She jumped to her feet, tabby still in hand. “Where are you going?”
“To hang myself from the closet… care to join?” I called without looking back.
“You’re joking, right?”
“I never joke about a good killing,” I said cheerfully. “Can’t fucking believe I have babysitting duty—I was the heir, you know…” I gritted my teeth. “And now… I have you.”
“Don’t forget about Bagel!” She glared.
“Two pussies, lucky me.” I took a deep breath. “Stay on the property, I mean it, and hope to God these thirty days go by fast.”
“Fine,” she yelled.
“Fine,” I called over my shoulder, ignoring the soft cries coming from her mouth and the way she held the cat close to her like she needed affection. I watched in the mirror, her broken reflection.
And I told myself I didn’t care.
It didn’t matter.
When my heart thudded, “Liar. Liar. Liar…”
Because I was still human.
And it did.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“There are three sides to every story. Yours. Mine. And the truth.” – Joe Massino
Katya
I’d always hated cats.
Until the stupid one with a Grinch Christmas sweater named Bagel gave me one pitiful look and meowed, and then I was done for.
He was orange.
Warm.
And who says no to a cat with a sweater on? Even if he looks extremely grumpy. He at least hissed at Santino, which gave him all the bonus points in the world. Weird because, normally, that’s the reaction cats have to me. Instead, Bagel let me hold him close like he knew I needed a hug or someone—something to understand what it was like to be captured, tortured, to watch my twin die in front of my eyes, to feel his soul leave this earth as if it was my own—and to be helpless against it all.
Thirty days.
What was I supposed to do for thirty whole days in a mansion I hadn’t even known existed? With a brother, I had been ripped from when I was too young to even remember?
With a past that made zero sense and still didn’t even when I really thought back on it. I almost didn’t want to ask Andrei anything. Because that would mean it had happened, and after what I’d learned from Santino, there was nothing but sadness and terror in that house. It wasn’t a home; it was more like a museum, wasn’t it? And we were simply little trophies used and manipulated in any way our father could use.
A frown tugged at my brow. I couldn’t even call him a father, really. Who takes two young children and just disposes of them like trash?
I know it happened, but acknowledging it, hearing more from Andrei, I wondered if it would do more bad than good if it would bring up so much past trauma that I wouldn’t be able to stomach it. Maybe later, maybe not this month, but one day I would ask what else he knew, and I would attempt to bury it along with my brother.
I wondered if Andrei would let me hold a funeral, one that Pace deserved. Where had those laughing, joking men taken him? Was his soul lingering because I wasn’t able to put him to rest?
A tear slid down my cheek. I didn’t feel him anymore, so why did I so desperately want to find his body and put it underground? Why did I want to plant flowers in the soil over him and give him a beautiful ending? I wanted to sing him a song and tell him he was a warrior too, that in the end, he fought.
But I couldn’t.
And I knew right now, there were bigger things to worry about, like staying alive, hoping my brother and the rest of the people involved stayed alive so that I could carry on Pace’s memory by doing the same.
Living.
I walked in a haze most of the day, tried to watch TV, and eventually, with the silly cat curled up against me—felt my eyes get heavy.
The monster hid in the darkness.
“I’ll find you,” he whispered. “I’ll kill you. I’ll finish what I started.” His dark chuckle was the thing out of nightmares as I tried to wrap my arms around myself, to hide my face, my body—the last time he wanted that most.