Midnight Oath (Tasarov Bratva 1)

EMERY

There’s white, blinding pain.

Then there’s panic.

What have I done? What have I done?

I only have a second to freak out. One second to ponder what it means.

One solitary, endless second to watch as Adrik falls sideways, his hands coming up to clutch at his face—not in pain, but in shock that I actually went through with it. He didn’t think I would.

Then I’m moving.

I jump up and try to move towards the door. But as soon as I stand up, my vision swims. There are stars in front of me, tiny flashing lights in the firmament of my brain. They go off like fireworks.

I’ve never head-butted anyone before. I had no idea how much it would hurt me in the process.

“Don’t fucking move!” Adrik bellows behind me.

I cleave through the fog in my head and scramble towards the door on wobbly legs.

But I’m not even halfway across the room before I feel a hand clasp around my ankle.

I scream and fall forward onto the carpet. I just barely manage to stop myself from face-planting. But as soon as I think I’m finally stable, he drags me back.

“Come back here,” Adrik growls. “We aren’t done yet.”

He pulls me across the floor. My shirt bunches up and I can feel the carpet burning into my skin, but I don’t care about any of that. My lone thought is a blaring, one-word alarm: RUN. RUN. RUN.

I claw at the floor and kick out with my other leg, trying to fight him off.

“I didn’t do anything!” I scream as I thrash. “Let me go!”

Adrik pulls me back further and then flips me over with one hand. As soon as I’m on my back, he crawls over me and pins my legs to the floor with his own. Then he shackles my wrists to the floor with his fingers.

I arch against his hold, but it might as well be iron. I’m not going anywhere.

“Let me go,” I say again. But I hear the weakness in my own voice. My momentary burst of adrenaline and aggression is gone. All that’s left is exhaustion. Submission.

Adrik settles on top of me. There’s a growing bruise on his forehead, but his nose is fine. Not broken or anything.

He must register my confusion.

“Next time, aim for the nose,” he advises. “Knocking foreheads like that, you’re lucky you didn’t crack your own skull open.”

“That explains the headache,” I mumble.

He smirks, but there’s no warmth in it. “It doesn’t explain why you thought you could lie to me.”

“Adrik,” I plead—dignity be damned—“I never lied to you. I swear. I don't know who the Varandry—”

“Volandri,” he corrects.

“I don’t know who they are,” I say. “I swear. Malcolm invited me to that party at your house the day of. I showed up, and then you came over and asked me to dance. Malcolm seemed scared of you, so I figured it was my only chance to find someone with enough power to help me get away from him. That was it. There was no other plan. I was just… a blind animal searching for a way out.”

He stares down at me. I can see the calculations happening behind his eyes. He’s playing back every interaction, every moment we’ve spent together, searching for clues of my betrayal.

“You’d make the perfect spy,” he says at last. “I can see why they sent you.”

I exhale slowly like a deflating balloon.

“There’s nothing else I can say to convince you,” I whisper. “I can’t prove a negative. This isn’t part of some larger plan. But you won’t listen to me no matter what I say. Especially since it seems like this wouldn’t be the first time the Volandris have infiltrated your home.”

It’s a shot in the dark. Just a pure, dumb guess. But as soon as I say it, there’s a flicker of something I’ve never seen on Adrik’s face before.

Uncertainty.

Pain.

Regret.

In the next second, it’s gone.

“You’d know better than anyone, wouldn’t you?” He grips my wrists tighter. I can feel my fingers begin to tingle from the loss of blood.

I shake my head. “I don’t… Listen, if you’re going to kill me, please take care of—” My voice cracks, and I clear it quickly. I swallow down the panic tightening around my chest. I need to get this out, if it’s the last thing I ever say. “Please take care of Isabella. Take her somewhere where she’ll be looked after, okay? She’s just a little girl.”

The thought of my daughter alone in the world…

Of her wondering where I am, what happened to me…

Or worse, her knowing exactly what happened to me…

It’s all too terrible to bear. I have to shove it aside or I’ll shatter.

Adrik is still pinning me to the dining room floor, but the violence has ebbed away. He inhales and exhales deeply, staring down at me.

I chance a look up at him and realize that his eyes are blue again. His pupils are back to their normal size. And for the first time in several minutes, I recognize the man on top of me.

“Adrik,” I say—gently, almost like I’m approaching a wild animal. “Please, I didn’t… I wouldn’t… I’m not.”

I see it now: the betrayal he must have suffered. The memory of it is written all over his face.

Maybe Adrik is right. Maybe he is a monster.