“He won’t stop until you’re dead,” I fire back.
“Then let the better man win.”
The words stick in my head. Let the better man win. Who is the better man in this case? It used to be so clear and obvious. Now, for the first time in twenty years, I really don’t know.
“Tell me, Renata: what is it about him that’s got you so transfixed?”
I get defensive immediately. That’s the first sign that I’m in over my head. “I’m not transfixed.”
“No?” He laughs cruelly. It’s clear he’s trying to taunt me, but for some reason, knowing that isn’t helping me control my reactions. “I’ve told you never to lie to me.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Liar.”
I grit my teeth. “I watched him kill our father,” I remind Drago. “You weren’t there. I was.”
“And yet, you kept a little memento from the murderer himself.” Drago tosses out the accusation with zeal. “Didn’t you?”
I freeze. His words pull up the memory. The moment at my father’s wedding when Kian bent down in front of me. He tore off the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the blood from my face. Instinctively, my hand rises and touches the half-moon scar on my cheek.
“You kept it,” he repeats.
“H… how did you know?”
“Does it matter?” he asks. “I know your dirty little secret.”
“I kept it to… to remind me… of the man who murdered my father,” I try and explain, infusing as much bitterness into my voice as possible. It doesn’t come off like I expect it to. It makes sense in my head, but out in the world, it seems ridiculous. Insane.
“More lies,” Drago hisses. “Shall I tell you why you kept it?”
I shake my head. “You’re not supposed to be here…”
“You kept it because you were stupid enough to believe that he was your savior,” Drago continues over my protestations. “That the fact that he didn’t kill you where you stood made him some kind of a hero.”
“Please,” I beg. “Just… leave me alone. I want to be alone.”
“You stupid little bitch!” Drago rails at me. “You’re pathetic. He wasn’t protecting you. You weren’t even worth killing. He just didn’t want to waste a bullet on you. That’s all it was.”
“Stop…”
“But now that you’ve grown tits… now that your pussy is ripe for the plucking… he’s interested in how he can use you.”
“No…!”
“Admit it. You want him to.”
“Please…”
“You dirty little whore. You—”
“STOP!
* * *
I wake up with my nails digging into the hard cement, trying to claw my way out of a nightmare that still feels so fucking real.
I look around the cell frantically, but my brother is not here.
He never was.