Vik (Shot Callers 2)

“I have a theory,” she said.

My lips thinned. Of course, she did.

And then she turned, pacing the length of the en suite as she spoke. “I know you well. Better than you’d care to admit. After all, a mother knows her child.”

The absolute gall. My jaw steeled.

Like she knew Lev? I quietly seethed, gripping the edge of the vanity hard enough to turn my knuckles white.

As if she’d heard my thoughts, she stalled, and when her eyes came to rest on me, she smiled in a perplexed way that said she knew it all. And that smile of hers… it was deadly. “Do your brothers know you miss me? Do they know you still have my things? Photographs, cards, and letters? That you often revisit the past? That you smell my perfume and wear my jewelry, try on a dress or two?”

My expression hollow, I loathed the way my heart filled with shame.

“Do they know you think about me and weep? That you wish you could have hugged me one last time, even after all I did to your brother? That you watched me be dragged so heinously from my home, knowing they would put a bullet between my eyes?” She waited a moment. “Do they know?”

Of course not. How could I ever admit to such a thing?

She looked me up and down. “Nastasia. They would be livid. And you, disgraced.” Mother took small steps toward the bathtub, taking a dignified seat on the porcelain lip. “No, you will never tell them, because you know they would never understand. But I do. Do you know why?”

I shook my head.

Her proud smile both warmed and chilled. “Because you are just like me.”

“No, I’m not,” I whispered. The fear her statement instilled was overwhelming.

She waved off my weak reply. “Deny it all you want. The facts speak louder than your feeble protests. Now, I’ll ask again. Where is Viktor?”

“We broke up.” My voice shook.

“No.” Mother lifted her arm, waving a gentle finger in the air. “You broke up with him, because deep down, you are the product of my womb and therefore me. Because social standing matters to you. And Viktor Nikulin was never worthy of my daughter.”

She was wrong.

My brow furrowed. “Stop it.”

“No money. No breeding. No prospects. That matters to you, dear.”

It didn’t. “It doesn’t.”

She leaned forward slightly, stressing each word. “Then why aren’t you with him?”

My chest ached. “Because…”

“Because why?” she prompted.

It was hard to breathe. “Because…”

Her eyes flashed. “Say it!”

“Because loving him is killing me!”

The words shot out of my mouth like slugs from a pistol. I panted with the realization that it was a death I would willingly accept if I only had him.

My breathing shook as wetness spilled from my eyes.

My heart shattered with the stray thought.

Why doesn’t he love me?

“It is killing you.” Her nod was solemn. “He is poison. A sickness in your veins. A sexually transmitted disease, and you opened your legs, inviting the illness unto you. He is a weak kitten in a bag sinking to the bottom of the ocean, and he is taking you with him.”

My eyes blurred. I croaked, “You don’t know him like I do.”

Mother’s eyes darkened. “I know he is a foul-mouthed, uncouth, spoiled…”

Anger lit deep inside of me. “Stop it.”

“…arrogant, selfish…”

That anger quickly turned to rage. “Mother, stop.”

“…irresponsible, poor excuse for a man.”

I turned on the tap and rinsed out my mouth before throwing cold water onto my face. I then fumed, “I’m not listening to you. You’re toxic.”

Her motherly tone was an insult. “But you are listening, you silly girl. You will hear everything I have to say, as I am inside your head, and I will be heard. I demand it.”

Go away. Go away. Go away!

“Oh God.” I clutched at my pounding head, tangling my fingers in my own hair.

I was going insane.

“My words will echo through your mind until your ears seep red.”

My body began to rock. I shut my eyes tightly. “Please, stop.”

From the corner of my eye, I watched her stand and move to the center of the room. “You are beauty and resilience. Both soft and unyielding. Proud, pretty little thing. You are a Leokov, and you want him,” she sneered at me. “I’m sure you find it just as amusing as I that although you have given every part of yourself to that boy, he gives back naught but table scraps. You gift him your heart, and he cuts it clean out. You bleed from the wound, and he watches but does nothing.” She looked so disappointed in me. “Foolish girl, when will you stop this nonsense? You fell in love with a thug…”

Her words cut me deeply. My breathing turned heavy.

“…and he doesn’t love you in return.”

The cruel laughter she ended on had something breaking inside me.

Reaching out, my fingers folded around the base of the heavy crystal vase that sat on my vanity. Her laughter echoed, and my heart pounded painfully in my chest.