Release: Davlova: Book One (31 page)

The hallway seemed to be a mile long. I felt the urgency of each second ticking away, drawing us nearer to a bloody, violent catastrophe, but I couldn’t make my feet move any faster.

I’d never been into the sitting room. The décor matched the dining room, with cream-colored paper on the walls and burgundy carpet covering the floor. The sparse furnishings were constructed of dark-stained wood. But I barely saw any of it. My gaze fell quickly on Donato, standing still as stone by the unlit fireplace.

He looked the same as always – tall and strong, his hair slicked back from his forehead. But there were differences, too. He wore no jacket over his simple, untucked shirt, and the bags under his eyes made him appear older than ever.

His gaze landed on me the minute I walked in. Nothing could disguise the naked relief and sorrow in his eyes. “You came.”

I nearly sobbed as I flew into his arms. Coming here, I’d been terrified—of him, of the consequences of my actions, and of the possible fates of Anzhéla and Ayo—but now, I felt only relief, running through my veins like the sweet, drugged wine he’d given me on his yacht. I was suddenly trembling and weak, grateful for the strength of him as he held me. “I was so worried.”

He kissed my head, then tilted my head back to meet my eyes. “I hoped you’d come.” He gently touched my bruised eye. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even blame you if you hate me.”

“I don’t.” I should. I knew that, on some level. Maybe if things had been different, I could have held onto my anger. But not now. Not with the city in the throes of a revolution. Not with the knowledge that whatever we shared was about to end. One way or another, everything was going to change. “They’re coming.”

“I know.”

“We have to get out of here, somehow. Out of the city—”

“No, my love.”

“I got in, so there must be a way out.”

“Hush, darling.” He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. “You’re correct. There’s a way out, but I’m not running anywhere.”

I began to shake. I hung onto him, as tight as I had that night when he’d helped me float in the sea. I’d never have that magical experience again. A lump formed in my throat. “What are we going to do?”

“
We
aren’t doing anything.”

“But—”

“You’re going to take the boy. The boat is ready. The butler—” He stopped short, closing his eyes, as if in pain. When he opened them again, they held an apology. “Jenko. He has it ready. He’ll take you through the wall, and you’ll leave the city until this is over. The boy will be safe, and so will you.”

“But—”

“There’s a safe underneath the icebox. Even Jenko doesn’t know. The combination is twelve, thirty-two, fifteen. Take everything that’s in it.”

I didn’t care about the safe. I didn’t even care how Jenko planned to get us out. Not at that moment. My vision blurred as my eyes filled with tears. “What about you?”

“I’ll never be free, don’t you see? This beast in my chest will always be there.”

“No. I don’t believe that. We can tame it—

“I nearly killed you the other night. I can’t give it another chance.”

“It’ll be different—”

“It won’t. I’d like to tell you it would, but I know myself too well.”

“There must be a way. A cybersurgeon!”

He shook his head. “I won’t let one of those butchers play with my brain. Not knowing what I know.”

“But—”

“Listen to me, pet. I’m tired of fighting it. Look at what I’ve done to you already.” He touched my bruised eye again, wincing as he did. “I hate knowing that it will someday drive me to kill the person I love the most.”

I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat, unable to speak.

“And what about you?” he asked. “Do you really want to have to face it again, never knowing how far it will go?”

Of course I didn’t. He was terrifying when his rage was in control. But that didn’t mean I wanted him to die.

And yet, what other option did we have?

I had no answer.

He sighed and let me go. “Here,” he said, turning to the sidebar. “Let’s have some wine.”

He poured it. Not one glass, as he had every time in the past, but two. He handed one to me.

“You don’t drink.”

“I won’t be around long enough for it to become a habit.”

“No,” I whispered. My cheeks were wet with tears. “Sir, please. Donato—”

“Take the wine.” An order this time. I obeyed on instinct. “Let’s go upstairs, shall we? It feels strange to talk to you here. I want to be in the room we’ve shared since this began.”

I followed him up the stairs, mute with dread. I remembered my first night in his house. How I’d stared at the paintings. I remembered my second visit, when I’d been startled by my own reflection. It startled me tonight, too. My cheek was still bruised, my hair a mess. My blackened eyes brimmed with unshed tears. I remembered, too, the last time I’d climbed these stairs, my heart full of trepidation. And he was right. He’d nearly killed me that night. And I’d nearly killed Ayo.

We entered the bedroom we’d shared so many nights. I set my wine on the bedside table. My hand shook so uncontrollably, I nearly spilled it. He steadied it, set his own glass down next to it, and held out his hand. I let him pull me into his arms.

And I burst into tears.

My body shook with the force of my sobs. I cried until my throat was raw. I wasn’t even sure why. Was it over losing him? The man who had beaten me and abused me and called me a whore? Yes, because he was also the man who’d anchored me and whispered prayers in my ear while the stars looked on from above. I mourned because my world was ending. The clan. Anzhéla. The trenches. Everything I’d ever known was going to die soon. Tonight. I had no place to go, and nobody to run to.

But I had Ayo.

Donato held me and rocked me, murmuring soothing sounds in my ear, and, as my tears subsided into soft hiccups, I hung onto the thought of Ayo. He was my beacon. It was because of him that I was here.

“There,” Donato said, drawing me away from him. “It’s better this way. You know, as well as I.”

I nodded, wiping tears from my cheeks. I took deep breaths, steadying myself, getting my thoughts back under control.

There was still a revolution in the making. Whether Frey managed to free Anzhéla or not, he and his men would do everything in their power to open the gates. Armed men would flood the upper city. And Donato was right about one thing—they wouldn’t stop to check for tattoos. In their mind, anybody still on this side of the wall was an enemy.

How long had I been here? How much time did I have left?

I had no way of knowing.

I straightened my shoulders and dried my eyes. I drained my wine glass. The storm had passed. Now, it was time to move forward.

“Does Ayo know?”

He winced at the name, but nodded. “He was told to be ready to leave. Nothing more.” He smiled apologetically. “I didn’t know if you’d come. I didn’t want to promise him something I couldn’t deliver.”

I reached out and took his hand. “Thank you. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Say you forgive me.”

“I do.”

He nodded. “Then there’s only one other thing I have to ask of you.”

“Anything.”

“Will you kill me?

I pulled back instinctively, taken by surprise at the request. There were two men in the world I loved with all my heart, and yet now they’d each asked me to kill them. “I don’t know that I can.”

“If you don’t, they will.”

He was right. If he was lucky, it would be a quick death, but that was unlikely. I thought about my options, and the answer suddenly became clear.

I touched my empty wine glass. “Will you get the bottle?” I asked. “I’d like a little more.”

He smiled and patted my knee indulgently. “Anything.”

Once he was gone, I worked quickly. The packet was still between the mattresses, where I’d hidden it so long ago.

They’re strong
, Tawny had said.
Two will leave you barely conscious. More than three, and you might not wake up.

There were eight in the packet. I swallowed one, and crumbled the remainder into Donato’s glass. I worried the white powder wouldn’t dissolve well and he’d realize what I’d done, but by the time he came back, the wine looked no different than it had before.

When he came back, he refilled my glass. I handed him his and held mine up in a toast. “To happy endings.”

He smiled as he touched his glass to mine. He took a small sip.

“Finish it,” I urged. “Please.”

He raised an eyebrow at me in surprise, but he drank the wine. I set the glasses on the table and pulled him down onto the bed. I lay content in his arms until his breathing slowed. It happened sooner than I expected. I raised myself onto my elbow to look down, into his eyes.

“Will you kill me now?” he asked.

“Not quite yet.”

I kissed him, a slow, lingering kiss that was bitter with sorrow and regret. When I pulled back, my eyes were full of tears.

He reached up to touch my cheek, although it seemed to take all his strength. His hand shook. His fingers felt like ice.

“I think you drugged me.”

“I did. But it’s a drug I think you’ll like.” My voice broke on the words as I remembered him saying the same thing to me, that beautiful night on his yacht. “It will see you gently to the other side.”

“Thank you.”

I shook my head. Tears spilled from my eyes. “Please don’t thank me for this.”

“How can you cry for me, after everything I’ve done? How can you not hate me?”

I shook my head, searching for the words. “I hate Donato, but not you, Miguel. I love you with all my heart.”

He smiled. His hand fell heavily to his side. “You’re an angel,” he said. “I never even knew your name.”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.”

I held him tighter, breathing in the clean smell of him. I traced my fingers over his tattoos. Finally, as he sighed his last breath, I kissed his cheek. I whispered one last word into this ear.

Verezhny.

Release.

***

I held him a moment more, knowing I had to leave. Still, I might have stayed all night if not for the explosion.

It came from the south, toward the gate. We were far enough for it to be muffled, but it still caused me to jump. The butler—Jenko—burst into the room a second later. His eyes betrayed nothing when he saw Donato.

“We need to leave.”

I followed him down the stairs. The noise from outside grew louder with each passing minute. The mob was still distant, but there was no doubt in my mind that the gate had been breached.

Ayo waited for us in the kitchen, a small canvas bag in his hands. His eye was bruised, although not as bad as mine, but the angry red welt around his neck was still evident against his pale skin.

“Misha!” He stood as I came in, smiling broadly in surprise. It struck me that even now, when our world was tumbling into the abyss, seeing me made him smile. It gave me strength, and yet it also made me realize how deep my obligation to him ran.

I didn’t stop to greet him. I didn’t stop to check the safe Donato had mentioned, either. We’d have to get by with the money we already had.

Another explosion boomed outside, closer this time. Somebody screamed. It wasn’t anybody in the house—probably a neighbor—but it raised the hair on my neck. I grabbed Ayo’s hand and led him out the door, with Jenko right behind us.

“I assume we’re headed northeast,” I said to Jenko. “Toward the pier.”

“Correct.”

He closed the door to the house and patted his pockets out of habit. His shoulders slumped. “It feels strange not to lock the door behind me.”

I could imagine how he must feel. Part of me wanted to burn Donato’s house to the ground, like some kind of giant funeral pyre, just to deny the looters access to the things that had been his. To spare him the dignity of being found. But there wasn’t time, and having another house to ransack might slow them down a bit as well.

“Let’s go.”

I took Ayo’s hand and began to lead them northeast. All around us, houses were waking, lights coming on. The streets had been empty when I’d made my way from the temple, but now, we saw people. Families and individuals in various states of dress, rushing in different directions. Some ran toward the fight we could hear raging to the south. Some went toward temple. Some looked lost and confused, crying for help. Others moved like they had a purpose. Maybe they had ways out, too, although if they did, I wasn’t sure why they’d waited until now to use them.

I avoided the main avenues. I didn’t know the upper city, but I was a street kid. I knew alleys.

“I don’t understand,” Ayo said in a hushed, scared voice as we ran. “Where is he?”

I didn’t stop moving, but I debated what to tell him. I couldn’t bring myself to say, “He’s dead.” Not yet. I settled for, “He’s not coming.”