What was he doing?
“You promised me one more night, Violet.” His accent had somehow… faded.
My heart pounded in my chest.
“And…” He sighed. “…I know how you hate it when your makeup gets ruined, so don’t cry anymore, I don’t think I can bear it.”
A buzzing sounded in my ears as I lay there, nearly paralyzed with confusion and desperation.
“Your accent, it’s gone.” My voice trembled.
“Oh, it comes and goes.” The accent was back.
“What’s going on?” I reached for him.
“I wanted one more day to lie, Violet, one more day just for me, one more day just for us, because I know how this ends, and it’s with me taking you back to Chicago and you hating me forever.”
“What?” I frowned. “I haven’t made that choice yet.”
“You will.” With the accent gone, he sounded like Breaker, identical to Breaker. “Trust me on this, I’ve known you ever since you promised to put those pieces back together—I wanted to thank you for trying. I also wanted to let you know that I prefer to stay broken. After all, you can’t become whole without your other half, and right now she’s wondering if she’s crazy, wondering if I somehow drugged her, wondering why I lied all this time, wondering why I broke her in the first place that night at the club, wondering all the things that started this slow descent into hell, and I doubt she’ll ever look back and offer forgiveness. Her hate, you see, will outweigh her grief, and I, Valerian Petrov, will deserve it.”
Tears leaked from my eyes, soaked the blindfold, streamed down my cheeks.
What he was saying was impossible.
My stomach lurched.
My heart pounded.
With trembling hands, I reached for my blindfold, but he beat me to it and very slowly tugged it down to my chin.
And there he was.
My best friend, but different.
His eyes brighter.
His hair lighter.
His demeanor more haunted than I’d ever seen.
And I knew, in my soul, he was right, whatever I would have hoped would be left of Breaker had died that day… and had been replaced with this.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A truth and a lie, I knew she’d ask me why, but we all have our orders, our emotions a tangled flood; in the end, all that mattered was blood. —Valerian Petrov
Valerian
She was staring at me like I wasn’t real, and then her gaze fell like she was mourning me all over again.
“Why?” Her eyes filled with tears. “Why would you—” She put her shaking hands in her lap and squeezed her eyes shut. “It was you that night, wasn’t it?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “There is nothing I would not do for you, Violet. Nothing.” Anger coursed through me then, anger at our situation, anger at myself, at Phoenix, Andrei. “They were going to rape you, and I couldn’t just stand by and watch—” My voice cracked. “I had one choice, and I made it.”
She looked away from me. “That choice, it caused a ripple effect, didn’t it?”
“It brought Valerian Petrov back from the dead and made Breaker and you a target,” I admitted. “The minute those thugs reported back rumors of my existence, well let’s just say I should have known that day, that I would be forced out of hiding, and then not only did they demand me, but the Italian princess, pure of blood.” I stood and gave her my back, fists still clenched. “I broke you, and then I damned you—you had to believe it was real, you all had to mourn. Phoenix and Andrei helped me set it up—I couldn’t exist in both worlds, and the Russians needed their heir.”
“Their heir,” Violet repeated, her voice hollow. “I take it you and Andrei are related then?”
“His dad, the old boss, he had an estranged brother who married my mom—”
“Making Andrei the bastard and you the royal blood,” she finished.
I turned back around.
Slowly she stood and walked over to me. I didn’t know what to expect, but her expression was destroying me bit by bit as she slowly, finally made eye contact and whispered, “You’re right, Breaker Campisi is dead.”
“Violet—”
“Breaker Campisi would never mess with my heart. Breaker Campisi would never—” Her voice broke as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Never do this to me. He was my best friend.”
My heart cracked in my chest.
“He was everything, and I’ll never forgive you for killing him.”
“Violet, you have to know—”
“Take me home now.”
“You are home.” I swallowed. “I will always be your home despite his death. You married me, and you promised me one more night.” I locked eyes with her. “So, you either give it to me here or in Chicago, but you will give it to me.”
Again, she approached, lifting her hand and slapping me across the face so hard my skin burned. “I. Hate. You.”
“I know.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I hate me too.”