“If you loved her, why didn’t you protect her?” she hissed. “I should kill you.”
The same guilt that had been eating at me for years stared right back at me through her eyes. Liana had been broken and put back together, but deep inside, those cracked pieces were in no better shape than my own.
“You should,” I agreed evenly, my hand on hers, holding the pistol in place. “But you should also question why you have such gaps in your memory.”
“Fuck. You.” Her voice trembled with fury. “I remember everything worth remembering.”
“Except for me and large chunks of your sister’s life.”
Chapter 38Liana
“Time to die,” I gritted, the anger returning with a vengeance and flooding my system. It didn’t matter that this man had given me the most mind-blowing orgasm I’d ever experienced. It didn’t matter that he made me feel all these things I’d never experienced before.
The need to finish this made my hands tremble. The only problem was, I physically couldn’t pull the trigger. And judging by Kingston’s expression, he knew it.
“Go ahead,” he urged.
His grip remained on my own, the slightest pressure of his finger on the trigger. Silence dominated the space between us. Every single cell in my body itched to carve this man’s heart out. If only I could give in to the darkness and let it happen.
Why? Haunted whispers clawed at my skull, piercing my temples and wrecking me from within. Why can’t I kill him?
My mind was trapped in a maze, unable to find a way out, and this man was to blame. So many emotions and thoughts burst through me, and I didn’t have what it took to process them all. I wasn’t coping, and what mattered most in this moment was keeping this man from witnessing it.
So I closed my eyes. I could feel tears burning. Each breath I took suffocated my lungs instead of breathing life into me. The metal became unbearably heavy, and my hands shook with every passing second.
“Do it, Liana.” More force on my trigger finger. My eyes snapped open, meeting his dark gaze. I yanked my hand away, then aimed. Terrified at what I’d find if I let him in, I pulled the trigger.
Bang.
And missed.
The gun slid from my fingers, falling on the ground, the thud of it loud in the silence of the aftermath.
“This was your last chance at shooting me.” His voice held a dark edge to it. “Fair warning, though. The next time you aim a gun at me, it will be the last thing you ever do.”
Oh God.
So many confusing feelings washed over me. Kingston Ashford was the only man I’d ever hesitated in killing.
I… was losing my mind. What good was I if I couldn’t even kill my captor? Bile rose in my throat and suddenly the food I’d eaten churned in my stomach. A sharp, piercing pain shot through my temples.
Images of Louisa broke loose. Me. Our faceless bodyguard.
That last memory hit me so quickly, I clutched my head from the pain of it.
“Stop sketching him.” My sister seemed agitated as I finished another drawing, smiling dreamily. “Mother will lose her shit if she finds it.”
I chewed on the tip of the pencil, ignoring her and the faraway noise signaling Mother and Ivan’s gladiator games. Each time we attended, their brutality resulted in fresh nightmares.
“I’ll burn them before I go to sleep.” I flicked her a glance. She sat at the bottom of my bed, legs crisscrossed, as she typed frantically on the laptop she’d smuggled in two hours ago. We wore identical pink-and-black pajama pants with MIT sweatshirts. We still hoped Mother would let her attend college in the fall. And if she went, so would I. Anything to get the fuck out of here and be a normal teenager for a bit. Maybe I’d finally get to do things that normal kids did—attend a concert, maybe even go to a party and make bad decisions.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She lifted her head. “Trying to get into Ivan’s computer.”
I scrunched my brows. “Why?”
There could be nothing good on our stepfather’s laptop. That man was a sick pervert and needed to be taken out. If only someone were brave enough to do it.
“So I know when the Tijuana cartel is coming.”
“Mother told him no,” I whispered. My stomach churned with nausea and my fingers clenched the pencil until it snapped in half. Frustrated, I flung the pieces across the room into the fireplace.
“I know,” she soothed. “I just want to make sure Ivan doesn’t try something behind her back.”
I nodded, but my mood had already soured. Getting off the bed, I gathered all the sketches and made my way to the fireplace. I hated burning them, but it had to be done. One day, when we were far away from here, I’d store them in a safe place and maybe share them with people. I watched them slowly disintegrate into ash, as if they’d never existed.
Crawling back into the bed, I lay down.
“What are you doing?” My sister’s eyes scrutinized me. “It’s only eight o’clock.”
I shrugged. “It’s going to take me forever to fall asleep with all that noise.”
You’d think I’d be used to it by now growing up in this fucked-up place, but I wasn’t.
She let out an amused chuckle. “Want me to hold a pillow over your head?”
I rolled my eyes, not at all amused. I was terribly claustrophobic, and she knew that. “Want me to break your face?”
She shut her laptop, staring at me as silence stretched, before we collapsed into a fit of giggles. That night, we slept holding each other and dreaming of a better tomorrow.
My eyes welled with tears as I whirled around, rushing out of there and into the bathroom. The face that greeted me in the mirror was pale, eyes hollow and terrified. The face that was familiar yet all wrong.
“Why can’t I remember him?” I rasped to my reflection.
There were clearly gaps in my memory that were alarming. The more I tried to remember, the worse my headaches were. I struggled to find bits and pieces of me that were missing, and I didn’t know how to get them back.
Wiping my tears from my cheeks, my muscles quaked with silent sobs. I wrapped my arms around myself in comfort, holding myself together as I headed back into the bedroom and crawled underneath the covers. I closed my eyes, and for the first time in a very long time, I let myself weep.
For the girl I used to be and the girl that I’d become but no longer recognized.
The scent of vanilla teased my senses, slowly pulling me from sleep.
I lay still, my eyes blinking in the dark until a figure sitting in the corner registered. I sat up on the bed suddenly, pulling the covers to my chin and staring at the shadow.
“Why are you so creepy?” I rasped. I didn’t have the energy to argue with him.
The silver hue of the moon projected the only light through the windows, throwing shadows across his sculpted jaw. Something about him seemed scarier now. Like he’d unleashed the full spectrum of his fury after our little battle of power yesterday.
“What did you dream about?” he asked, and I blinked at him, confusion taking center stage. I remained silent, our staredown stretching for seconds, minutes, until he broke it again. “I asked you a question, ice princess.”
There was a harshness to him that could easily suck the essence from my soul. Everything about him was honed for danger, and it had everything to do with my last name. Some of my memories were hazy, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that part out.