Just then, I hear another sound outside my door. I grab my phone and start to call Yulian just as the door slams open.
I jolt back, dropping my phone. But before I can scramble to grab it, I look up at the person now standing in the doorway.
“Marina,” I whisper.
“Come on now,” she chides with a simpering smile. “I’ll always be your Freya.”
I take a step back and hit the bedside table. My phone is on the floor about a foot away. But Marina is holding a gun.
“Long time, Jessa,” she says. “Have you missed me?”
She still talks like Freya, but she looks like Marina now. It’s the weirdest mindfuck.
Her hair is a creamy blonde and her eyes are a pale, eerie blue that sets off shivers down my spine.
“Where’s Yulian?” I ask. “What have you done with him?”
“Oh, don’t you worry. I’ve taken care of him.”
A sob catches in my throat. I know how close the two brothers are. I know that Anton can’t afford to lose Yulian.
She looks around the room. “Are you enjoying your stay in my house? Are you enjoying my bed? I know you’re certainly enjoying my husband.”
I square my shoulders, refusing to let her intimidate me so easily. “He’s not your husband anymore. And this is not your house.”
“I suppose that’s what all mistresses tell themselves.”
It stings. And apparently, that’s obvious, because she laughs. “What, is that word uncomfortable for you, Jessa? It shouldn’t be. You earned the title.”
“You faked your own death!” I remind her. “He thought he was a widower.”
“And I bet he was enthusiastic about fucking you,” she snarls through her smile. “He was always good in bed, I’ll give him that. Did he ever tell you how he used to fuck me?”
I want to scream. “Please don’t—”
“It was so fucking passionate. We used to bite and claw and try to tear each other apart before we made each other come. It was a bloody mess. God only knows how many sets of sheets we ruined.”
I stand there, listening unwillingly, with my heart beating hard against my chest. I’m terrified to even glance at my phone in case she decides to stomp on it or something. If I lose that, I truly have nothing.
“Every time we had sex, we were left with the scars of our lovemaking. He probably still has some of those marks.”
She says it like it’s a good thing. Like it’s a testament to their love.
“Sounds like you were at war even when you had sex.”
She shrugs. “That’s when you know it’s real.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper as the dots connect in my head. “That’s why…”
She narrows her eyes at me.
“You love him, don’t you?” I accuse.
She hesitates for a moment, and I can tell she doesn’t want to look weak. “I always loved him. But he didn’t want an equal in the relationship; he wanted a docile little lamb. And it looks like he got one. But I know him better than anyone else. He’ll be bored of you in two fucking seconds.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“The only reason you’re still here is because he managed to knock you up,” she snarls.