Tears of Betrayal

Everything becomes too much, and my emotions spiral into a devastating mess.

I can’t deal with any of this. It’s too much.

A knock on the door has me jerking, and I turn my face away, pressing my lips together to keep the sobs from escaping. A shameful blush creeps up my neck when I hear the door opening.

“There are clothes in the bag,” Demitri says, and then I hear the door shut again.

I suck in a quivering breath and glance at the bag he left for me. Then, getting up, I go look inside. I pull out a t-shirt and sweatpants. Unfortunately, there’s no underwear, so I quickly put on the clothes, just thankful to have something to wear.

Using a towel, I squeeze the excess water from my hair. Only then do I look through the cabinet. It has everything I’ll need, and taking a new toothbrush, I open the packaging and quickly brush my teeth.

Not ready to face that bed again, I sit back down on the closed toilet and stare blankly at the tiles.

I don’t know for how long I hide in the bathroom until Demitri knocks on the door again. This time he doesn’t come in but just says, “Come eat, Ariana.”

I shoot a scowl at the door.

I hope he chokes on his dinner.

Chapter 6

DEMITRI

Fuck.

Feeling like shit, I leave Ariana’s food on the dressing table and pull the door shut behind me.

When I went to the mainland to get supplies, it didn’t even cross my mind that she would need the restroom.

I’ve felt glimpses of pity in the past. For Winter, Damien’s wife, when she lost her family. For Hailey, Alexei’s younger brother’s girlfriend, after the Polish beat her to within an inch of her life.

But I’ve never felt what I’m experiencing now.

I’m not sure what it is, but it’s not just pity.

Slumping down on the couch, I stare at the state-of-the-art entertainment system across from me.

What am I going to do with Ariana? At the rate things are going, we’re going to drive each other insane long before Alexei gets word from Sergei.

I don’t get along with people, because most of them annoy the fuck out of me.

I’m the worst possible person to babysit Ariana, and it doesn’t help that I’m attracted to her.

Fuck my life.

I let out a sigh, and lifting a hand to my face, I rub tiredly over my eyes.

I’ve changed the mattress and bedding in her room, and she has food, so I don’t have to worry about her tonight. But what the hell do we do tomorrow?

She has questions I can’t answer.

This isn’t going to get better. If Sergei wants us to protect his daughter, it means war with Yuri. If Sergei wants her dead, it means war with the Bratva because Alexei won’t kill her.

I hear Ariana’s cautious footsteps as she comes down the stairs, and I rise to my feet. She glares in my direction and carries the untouched plate of food to the kitchen. “Asshole,” she mumbles under her breath.

It’s not in my nature to apologize, and I’m not about to start now, but still, the words burn on the tip of my tongue.

I watch as she moves to the sink and opens the faucet. When she begins to wash the dishes, I say, “There’s a dishwasher.”

“Don’t talk to me,” she snaps.

That’s my queue to leave.

I go to the security room and enter the code for the door. Taking a seat behind the monitors, I can see every room in the house from the cameras we installed.

I glance at the screen showing the underground chatter, but after a couple of seconds, I turn up the sound for the camera in the kitchen.

‘…can go to hell,’ I hear Ariana mumble angrily. She shakes her head, letting out an offended chuckle but then it turns to a sob. I watch as she takes deep breaths, and then the dishes suffer as she grabs one after the other. ‘Freaking, asshole.’

When she dries her hands, red swelling around her wrists catches my eye.

Fuck.

Getting up, I leave the security room and go get the first aid kit. When I come down the stairs, I hear Ariana grumble, “How the hell does this TV work?”

When I sit down next to her, she freezes, but then the scowl returns to her face. “Leave me alone.”

I take the remote from her hand and switch on the TV. “What do you want to watch?”

“Netflix.”

I go into Netflix then hand her the remote. Taking hold of her free arm, my eyes sweep over the broken skin.

Ariana yanks away from me. “Don’t touch me.”

“Watch TV and let me do my job,” I mutter as I grab hold of her arm again. I set her hand down on my thigh, and opening the first aid kit, I remove antiseptic wipes and clean her wrist before putting balm on.