Avenge: #3 Romanian Mob Chronicles (13 page)

But the event had been little more than a blip on the radar, something that I had cataloged with all the other necessities of helping run the organization, nothing of note.

None of the many things I’d done were; I barely remembered them. If I’d known what the things I did meant to people like her, meant to her, if I had known what she would come to mean to me, would I have done anything differently?

I wanted to believe I would have, wanted to believe I was the kind of man who would have changed, one who still could.

But I wasn’t, wouldn’t ever be. Which was the reason I never should have started any of this, the reason why I should walk away.

I couldn’t do that either, though.

When I glanced back at Lily, her tears had dried, and her eyes now burned with a fury that I couldn’t ignore.

I reached for her again, ignored the burst of anger when she flinched at my touch. I gripped her elbows, held her until she stopped trying to break away.

“You’re mistaken, Lily. Christoph didn’t do that,” I said finally.

Her eyes flashed. “Of course you’d say that.”

“Have I ever lied to you?” I asked, thinking of the conversations that had passed, the truths I had shared with her.

“You’ll defend him until your last breath,” she said.

I kept my eyes on hers. Repeated my question. “Have I ever lied to you?”

She stared at me, but then shook her head grudgingly.

“Then trust me on this. He didn’t,” I said softly.

She narrowed her eyes, her gaze now filled with suspicion and disbelief. “How are you so sure? You don’t know everything he does. Or did.”

“No, I don’t. But I know him. You said they found your brother. Someone had hit him on the head, left him there,” I said, hating the pain that flashed across her face.

“Yes,” she said, the word a breath of a whisper.

I shook my head. “That’s not Christoph. Not his style.”

She scoffed. “Style? What does style have to do with anything?”

“Everything, Lily. It tells me it wasn’t him.”

“So what’s his style, then? Sleep with the fishes?” she said, rolling her eyes.

“No. No fishes. Christoph hates water. But he wouldn’t have left a job unfinished. And he wouldn’t have left your brother for the police to find,” I said.

“What, then? A shallow grave?” she said, crossing her arms under her breasts defensively.

“No. A very deep one. Probably one that I dug,” I said.

She pressed her lips together in a tight line, and I waited for a sign of her disgust. But I saw none. Instead, she sighed, the anger fleeing her with her breath.

“It might be time to dust your shovel off, Anton,” she said, resigned. Then she lifted her lips in a smile.

“That’s not funny, Lily,” I said, allowing my voice to go deep with the emotion that even the implication raised. I was capable of things that should have terrified or shamed me, things that once might have. But not that, not ever, no matter what oath I had to break. “What is this about? What did Christoph do?”

“You were right about me,” she said.

“Right about what?” I asked, suspicion rising with each second that passed.

“I planned to kill him.”

For a moment, I’d thought I’d misheard, but the guilt on her face, the sorrow, told me she spoke the truth.

“What do you mean, Lily?” I said, voice tight with a sudden surge of rage.

Our complicated relationship aside, I cared for Christoph Senior, rejected the idea of anyone attempting to harm him—no matter how much such harm had been deserved. And by her, the woman I cared for so deeply… No, there had to be an explanation.

I finally settled on one that seemed reasonable. “You believed he harmed your brother,” I said. “You wanted recompense for that. I can’t begrudge you, because I would have done the same. So would he. But you didn’t. And that tells me all I need to know.”

She snorted. “All it tells you is that I’m weak. That’s why I didn’t go through with it. Because I couldn’t. Because I
am
weak. I had so many chances, but when I looked at him, that sick, frail old man, I couldn’t do it.”

She shook her head, her disappointment palpable. I lifted my hands to cup her face, turned her head until she met my eyes. “Because you’re a good person.”

Her eyes locked with mine, and I watched as the sheen of tears expanded. “That’s not all,” she said.

I dropped my hands.

“What?” I said, suddenly afraid to hear her response.

“I was going to… I was looking for…evidence. I wanted to take the whole thing down. Take all of you down, Anton. I had everything I needed. I even saw things myself.”

I clenched my fists tight, insides almost shaking as her words reverberated through my mind.

“Things like what?” I asked tightly.

“You killed someone,” she replied.

“Why do you think that?” I said, unwilling to accept what I knew she was telling me, hoping against hope that I was wrong.

“You broke his neck,” she replied.

“Why do you think that, Lily?”

“I don’t think it, Anton. I know it. I saw it.”

She couldn’t have. There was no way…

I met her glittering eyes, saw the truth in them, felt her slipping away from me. Felt anger begin to set my blood to boil.

There was only one way she could have seen, only one person who would have cared enough to show her, been foolish enough to risk it, to risk everything, risk Clan Constantin, risk Lily’s life.

“Tell me you didn’t see anything, Lily. Tell me,” I said, urgency, desperation making my words come out in a rush.

I knew she had, knew that she knew, but I said it anyway, desperate for the few moments to gather myself, my mind groping for an explanation that I could use to convince her, one that would keep her from running away from me and never looking back, one that wouldn’t make me have to choose between my clan and the woman I loved.

Instead of telling me what I needed to hear, she said, “No. I saw it, Anton. You killed Paul. Broke his neck. And then you”—she swallowed—“you chopped him up.”

Her voice had only wavered slightly, and she kept her eyes on mine, her gaze confirming that she spoke the truth, not that I’d doubted it.

“Yes,” I said, confessing, though I wanted to lie to her, knowing that if I didn’t, the peace I’d found with her would be over, gone as if it had never existed, but being unable to do so even with the full awareness of what the truth would mean, with the full awareness that everything between us had changed already.

After I spoke, I moved closer to her, staring at her intently. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, how she was responding, but she hadn’t run from me, screamed at me to leave and never come back, so tiny wisps of hope started to spring up. Maybe there was a way…

“Thank you for telling the truth,” she finally said. “I knew you would. That’s why I couldn’t go through with it. Well, one of the reasons.”

“You were going to inform on us?” I asked, suddenly remembering what she’d confessed, half of me shocked that I’d even been able to forget, even for those few moments.

“I was,” she said. “There was a time when seeing what you did would have sickened me. And given me delirious glee. Evidence is one thing, but a live witness, one as convincing as I am, tearily recounting how you killed a man and then hacked him to pieces, scattered those pieces God knows where…” She trailed off, met my eyes, and then started again. “It would have been gold, especially when I came forward despite the danger to myself, the grave personal risk that daring to speak out against Clan Constantin put me in.”

She was almost matter-of-fact, and she was also right, and both of those facts hid the rage, and underneath it hurt, that simmered at a full boil.

“Who were you working with?” I yelled before I lowered my voice, fought for control.

I took a step back, then another, not trusting myself to be this close to her.

“No one. No one would risk it. But I thought if I had the evidence, they couldn’t ignore it. So I started in the house, searching. I didn’t find anything,” she added quickly, as if that made it okay. “But seeing you…that was gold.”

“So, me…us?” I asked, not wanting to hear her answer but needing to, disgusted that my emotions were at the forefront of my mind.

She shook her head. “No. No, Anton. I… What I feel for you, what we had…have…is real,” she said, her eyes bright, oh so believable.

Rage so intense I thought my heart would pound out of my chest coursed through me like lightning.

At her, yes, but at myself mostly. I’d known something wasn’t right, known that she had secrets, but I had ignored it, let myself get caught up in the fantasy that we could build a life together.

Foolish. Unforgivably so. And my clan had been close to destruction because of it, almost brought down by a danger that I had allowed to fester.

“Real?” I spat.

She nodded. “It has to be.”

I breathed out hard, my nostrils flaring with the huffed-out breath. I should have stayed mute, should have left, but instead I asked, “Why does it have to be?”

“Because I saw what you did. And I hated it. But I didn’t hate you. I don’t hate you.”

I shook my head as if doing so would ward off the dizzying mix of emotions that roiled through me.

“It’s unbelievable, I know. But when you…did that, I thought you were a monster,” she said.

“I am a monster, Lily.”

“No. No, you’re not. Because after, when I should have been gripped with fear, disgust, anger, all those things I’d felt toward Christoph Senior, toward all of you, for years, I wasn’t,” she said.

“What were you gripped with instead?” I asked, again unable to hold my tongue, something that only Lily seemed to cause and something that I needed to fix.

“Trust,” she said simply, like that single word meant something here, now, after what she’d told me.

“Trust? I murdered someone and cut his body into pieces and you trust me?” I said incredulously.

She let out a noise that was half snort, half laugh, and completely endearing. “Ridiculous, right? But true. I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind that if you did it, there must be a reason.”

“You sound insane, Lily,” I said.

“I know I sound insane. I probably am insane,” she replied. “But I know my mind. And I trust you. And I don’t trust anyone. So even though I had what I’d been looking for in my grasp, I couldn’t do it, Anton. Because I trust you, I lov—”

“I could kill you right now,” I said, cutting her off before she finished, knowing that if I heard the words, I would lose what little reason I had left.

“Yes,” she replied.

“I should,” I said.

“Probably. Are you going to?”

I turned away, then looked back at her, tried to imagine the life leaving her at my hand.

A life’s experience told me I should do just that. That a betrayal like this could never be forgiven or overlooked.

But I couldn’t.

Wouldn’t.

Even after what she’d done.

“You have twelve hours, Lily. Leave this place. And don’t ever come back.”

“That’s it? You’re going to let me go?” she asked, her expression a combination of confused and surprised.

“You’ve already proven me a fool. Why should that change now? Be grateful for it,” I said. My voice was gruff, tough-sounding, but the words, the thoughts behind them, betrayed my weakness. Just moments ago, I’d accepted I could never harm her, and she was putting my resolve to the test, confessing to a slight that should have meant instant death, would have if I had been a man worthy of my clan and its respect.

But I wasn’t, couldn’t pretend, even now, that I could harm her.

I stomped toward the front door, needing to be out of here, away from her, more than I had ever needed anything in my entire life. I grabbed the knob, fumbled with it before I finally wrenched the door open.

“I love you, Anton,” she whispered.

I left without looking back.

L
ily

I
stood rooted
to the spot, frozen, after Anton left.

Pain, I had expected. Fear as well. But what I felt now, completely numb to my core, emptied, hollowed out, I hadn’t.

I’d known that I loved him, probably had even before the first time we’d been together. But the look on his face, the split second of agony that was quickly covered with rage, and then, worst of all, indifference, had been almost unbearable. And when I’d watched him walk away, the negative space that his absence created became a vacuum that threatened to swallow me whole, that made my stomach churn.

I rushed to the bathroom, heaved until there was nothing left. Then I stood, dizzy, only just able to brush my teeth before I staggered to the bedroom and collapsed onto the mattress. When I caught a faint whiff of the scent that was unmistakably him, I closed my eyes as if it would push away some of the pain.

He had joked that the mattress was too small, but now, without him, it was too big and as empty as my heart.

I sat up with a start, disoriented. I looked around wildly, noticed that it was full night.

Somehow, I had managed to fall asleep. Probably a sign of a guilty conscience that needed rest after having relieved itself of its burden.

I glanced at the clock, shocked when I realized it had been over five hours. My time was nearly halfway up. After I dragged myself out of bed and showered, I looked around the apartment, trying to decide what to take.

Because I was leaving.

Anton had been right. He’d never lied to me. And I wouldn’t bank on him starting today. Didn’t want to even contemplate what he might do if I were here after his reprieve.

Besides, if I never had to see that look in his eyes, the pain and disappointment that I had put there, it would be worth leaving everything behind.

I took one last look at the apartment and, on a deep sigh, headed to the door. I didn’t know my destination, but I knew this: I had failed my brother, had failed the only man I’d ever loved. There was nothing here for me.

I stepped out of the door and came face-to-face with Christoph Constantin Junior.