by Cora Kenborn
Sticky red drips off my hand and onto the floor.
Another whisper. “Run.”
I can’t listen to her because my heart is thump-thump-thumping in my ears. Slowly, I turn my head toward the desk. The same red, sticky stuff that’s on my hands drips off the side.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Rosten is lying on his stomach quiet and still. He’s red and sticky, too. Everything smells like pennies. My jeans are still around my knees as I shuffle toward him, my Chucks squeaking on the messy floor.
“Rosten?” Please don’t answer. I move a little closer. And that’s close enough to see them.
Holes. Lots of holes.
In his neck. In his face. In his back.
Everywhere.
Sticky red oozing out of each one.
I shake, the metal in my hand growing heavy. I look down at the pointy sharp end. Just sharp enough to make lots of holes.
The letter opener hits the floor with a clang as I shake even more. I can’t breathe again. Everything hurts. I want it off me, but I have to leave.
She’s right.
Run.
I quickly pull up my jeans and fumble with the button. I don’t know what makes me pick up the letter opener, but I do. I hold it tightly in my hand, shoving most of it under my sleeve.
Dominic will know what to do.
I have to find Dominic.
But just as I step into the lobby, the elevator dings and the doors part.
Leaving the confines of the tunnel, I hear Dominic’s hoarse voice against my ear. “I’m so sorry. Come back to me. Please.” The dark room shifts back into focus as the sights and sounds of Rosten’s office fade away.
I’m on the floor of the bedroom, wrapped in Dominic’s arms. His hold is fierce, but I don’t say anything because his chest is rattling. I’ve never heard him make this sound before; I put my ear against his heart, and it rattles even louder.
“The name engraved on the letter opener is Gregory Rosten,” I say. “I remember now. I remember everything.”
He swallows hard. “I know.”
No, he doesn’t. “Dominic, he—”
He shakes his head. “I meant I know everything, rook. I know what you did, and why you did it. I know what that man did to you as a child and God knows how many others.” I feel his muscles tense. “If I could raise him from the dead and kill him himself, I would.”
“I saw Luciano there.” I look up at his face, and he doesn’t seem surprised. “What did he do with him?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care.”
I don’t think I do, either. There are enough bad things in my head. Knowing Greg Rosten’s final resting place doesn’t need to be one of them. It’s bad enough I know where they found Violet…
I stiffen, harsh, ugly words coming back to me.
“What did you do to her?”
“I didn’t do anything. It’s what you did to her. Or don’t you remember? How easily the young mind molds…and breaks.”
“Did I kill Violet?” I ask quietly.
Moments pass as his hand strokes my hair. “No.”
“But Rosten said—”
“Rosten was trying to get inside your head. He always has.”
“But why would he hurt her?”
His hand stills in my hair. “He was watching.”
Confused, I turn around and look up at him. “What?”
Dominic closes his eyes, a hard look passing over his beautiful face. “He called me by name when I walked in, but his back was turned. He watched us from the window. Jesus Christ, he knew we were fighting.”
I don’t know what that means, yet I let that part stay locked up in Dominic’s head. As long as I know I didn’t hurt my friend, that’s enough for me.
But not for Dominic. When he looks down at me, those beautiful, icy blue eyes I love so much fill with pain. “It’s time you learned the truth. The whole truth. Everything.”
Holding me in my arms, he tells me everything. Every word out of Luciano Ricci’s mouth. He tells me about why he gave him the assignment. He tells me how he failed to protect my siblings. He tells me how he followed us to Phoenix then took me to a Vitoli-funded group home. He tells me how Luciano searched for me when I ran away, only finding me when Dominic exposed Paulo Bellini. He tells me he was the one who intercepted the DNA sample.
I listen quietly, not saying a word until he finishes. Then I ask the one question he didn’t offer. The one truth I need to know. “Who ordered the hit?”
“Rosten,” he says.
“Why?”
He winces but doesn’t hold back. “Rubio and I found buried molestation charges against him.”
I raise an eyebrow at the name but don’t question him. “Why were they buried?”
For the next few minutes I clench my hands together as he tells me about his meeting with Rubio and everything they found out. Every ugly detail about my father’s attempts to bring my abuser down and how the system failed us.
It takes me three times to find my voice. “So, Rosten ordered my family’s murders to make sure the world never knew he liked to fuck little girls?” My heart pounds and my pulse races as I leap to my feet.
“Rook…”
“All this is because my mother was a narcissistic bitch? I can’t remember eight years of my life because her fame was more important than her own daughter?” Everything starts to spin; I grab handfuls of my own hair, tugging at my scalp. “I have all these noises and dreams and scratches inside my head because my own mother bartered me like a fuck doll?”
When I open my eyes, Dominic is on his feet beside me. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll help you.”
“It’s too late for that!” I scream. “Don’t you see that? Everyone’s voice is in there. It’s not just Alexandra’s. It’s my mother’s, too. I hear her, Dominic. I hear Rosten’s breath in my ear. It never goes away. Nothing is ever quiet. There’s always noise, and I’m so tired!” And dizzy. So dizzy that I lean forward and collapse against his chest.
His voice sounds broken as he holds me. “Christ, rook…”
“I don’t know who I am anymore,” I cry into his chest. “There are two sides of me constantly at war. One of them will eventually win. I’m scared to lose me, Dominic. Me. Angel Smith. Alexandra is stronger. She’s louder. She’s just so loud.”
And that’s my fear. What I’ve run from for weeks, months, maybe forever. This is her life. This is her body. It always has been. Me? Angel Smith? I’m just a placeholder. An actress playing a role. I’m not real. I’m a broken fragment of Alexandra’s mind. Her shield in the storm, and the barrier to her pain. But the storm is over, and the barrier is down, so there’s no use for me anymore. Like a toy left behind as a child grows up, I’ve served my purpose.
She’s going to take back what’s hers.
And what’s mine.
Dominic’s arms wrap around me tighter than ever. It’s almost as if he can feel the tether thinning. His lips press against the top of my head, his rough exhale blowing my hair. When he speaks, I hear the raw pain in his voice. “It’s okay to let go. You’re tired, rook. You fought hard so Alexandra didn’t have to. You protected her, and if you need to rest, then rest.”
I let the tears flow. “Who’ll protect Alexandra then?”
“I will.”
I close my eyes. “I’m scared.”
“I know you are. I am, too. But I didn’t let anyone hurt her fifteen years ago, and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you now.”
I believe him.
“I love you.” The words fall out of my mouth, and he stiffens in response. Maybe he doesn’t want to hear them, but I don’t care. This might be my only chance, and I’m not wasting it. “I want you to know that in case Alexandra never tells you. Because I do. And it has nothing to do with what you did for her. I fell in love with you in a stupid bar in Chula Vista.”
Dominic pulls away. “I love you too, rook. You—Angel Smi
th. My stubborn pain in the ass.” I can’t help but smile, and he returns it. “I always will,” he adds.
I believe that, too.
I glance down. “What happens now?”
“I don’t know,” he says, and I hear the fatigue in his voice. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
“Dominic?” The question in my tone makes him draw his head back and stare at me. I almost chicken out, but I can’t. Not now. Swallowing my fear, I look up at him. “Make love to me.”
His nostrils flare at my words. “What?”
I sit up, my conviction stronger. “If you love me, show me. Take everything else away. Because if there’s never another chance, I want that to be the last thing between us.”
I stare in his eyes, silently pleading with him to see how serious I am and how much I need this. I need his warmth and his skin against mine. I need him.
Dominic’s eyes change from pale blue to hooded and dark. Scooping me in his arms, he walks us both to the bed where he places me gently onto the mattress. There are no rough hands, or dirty words, or frantic kisses this time. He takes off my clothes slowly, looking into my eyes as if asking permission before each touch.
It makes me love him even more.
I nod, watching as he peels off his clothes, and, bracing his weight on his forearms, he meets my mouth in a gentle kiss. We touch each other, fanning the flame between us with love and explosive desire. Dominic groans my name, his face pulled in a painful grimace.
“Look at me,” I whisper, and when he does, I nod again, giving him permission. Giving him everything. “Make me yours.”
Restraining his usual force, he enters me so slowly, I moan. When he’s fully embedded, he pauses, kissing the tip of my nose before creating a rhythm that’s all ours.
Forever.
And Alexandra lets us have this moment, turning off the voices and the static and the scratching. For once, there’s nothing in my head but peace.
Leaving the parlor behind, I walk steady steps toward the back entrance of the estate near the rear staircase. I touch the walls, the mirrors, and the vases. So much is the same while so much is different.
I’m different.
Once I reach the back door, I turn my back to it and pause for a moment before walking diagonally to the right. There I stand, gazing out at the scene before me as I finish what they started.
“One,” I say.
Crossing the floor, I move toward the rear spiral staircase. Taking six steps up, I stop again and glance down. “Two.”
I take seven more steps and stop again. “Three.”
Two more steps. “Four.”
One step. “Five.”
Slowly, I make my way back down the staircase and across the room to another staircase. One by one, I climb each step until I reach the top.
The east wing.
Passing each door, I stop at the only one that’s important, turning the doorknob and walking inside only three steps. “Six,” I whisper. Then, I turn toward the corner where a dresser and bed once stood and shake my head. “You were never six, little one. I made sure of it.”
When all have been accounted for, I leave the east wing for the final time. The past has finally been laid to rest, and the truth heard.
I’m free.
Making my way back to the bedroom, I watch him sleep. He’s so beautiful. Beautifully bitter just like he was when he saved me.
My Angel of Death.
He destroyed me to save me. He doesn’t understand. He never has.
He created Angel Smith. Because of him I spread my wings and flew into the sun. The place I’ve been ever since.
But before I went, I made a promise to myself to find him again in another life. This beautiful, bitter boy with long black hair and sad eyes. And when I did, his pain would be mine. His heart would beat for me. I’d set him free.
The first time I kissed an angel, I died.
Leaning over the bed, I brush my lips softly over his cheek as my finger curls around the trigger.
The second time, he did.
Chapter Fifty-One
Alexandra
Tilting my head back, I stare up at the night sky and smile.
It’s Christmas.
After fifteen years, the day finally came for me. I stepped out of the shadows of Christmas Eve and spent Christmas morning with the sun on my face. It was heaven.
Now it’s night again, and it’s almost over. I assume lots of people are looking for me at the moment. I can’t blame them. I’m sure they know what I did by now.
The concrete is cold on my bare feet, so I wiggle my toes, hugging the envelope tighter against my chest.
“You’ve kept me locked away all day.”
I look beside me where Angel leans against the rail, her arms braced behind her and the wind blowing the bottom of her dress around her calves. “I needed to be alone.”
I guess she understands what I mean because she doesn’t ask me to elaborate. Not that I would anyway. We may be the same, but there are still things that are just for me.
She stares out at the moon. I think she’s always liked it as much as me. “Merry Christmas, Alexandra.”
I nod. “Merry Christmas, Angel.” My nails scratch the thick railing behind me. I’m not as good with words as she is, but it’s time I try. “I want to thank you.”
She cocks her chin. “For what?”
“For living while I slept. It was a surprise to wake up like this.” I glance down, scanning my very adult body. “I thought I’d still be a child, but I guess we’re more connected than I thought.”
“Meaning?”
“We aren’t really two different personalities, Angel. Otherwise, I’d still be eight years old up here.” I tap my finger against my temple. “I grew with you.” I let that statement float away into the night before attempting to put more of my thoughts into words. “I suppose instead of two different pennies, we’re just two sides of the same coin. It’s hard to explain.”
“No, I get it,” she says, covering my hand with hers. “I was there when you didn’t want to be, and you were there when I didn’t want to be. I guess that makes us kind of like twins.”
Twins. I like that. I miss my sisters. It’s nice to have another one.
But Angel never had any sisters. She never had a brother, or a Papa who tried to save her. All she ever had was my Angel of Death. I know she misses him. I see it in her sad eyes.
“He was good to us.” I squeeze her hand.
It’s dark, but I think there are tears in her eyes. Seeing them makes tears sting my own. Tears may be tools, but it’s okay if they’re a weakness sometimes.
Our Angel of Death taught us that.
“Yeah, he was,” she says, quietly. “He loved you, you know.”
I shake my head, because I know better. I was there for a few moments. I felt his arms around me. That’s a different kind of love I’ll never know. “Not like he loves you.”
Angel doesn’t argue. Instead, she drags her bare toe along the edge of the concrete. “So, what happens now?”
I look down. I can’t see where the night ends and the water begins. Maybe that’s for the best. “Remember what you always used to say? You can’t drown in the rain…”
“…as long as you run from the storm,” she finishes.
“I don’t need to run anymore, Angel. The storm is over.”
Her foot stops, and she looks up at me. “What are you saying?”
There’s so much I want to say, but there’s no more time. They’ll come for me soon, and I can’t let that happen. Not to me, and not to her.
I give her a sad smile. “I’m saying you were right all along. Some people are just meant to drown.”
Angel opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, the sound of hurried footsteps rush behind us. “Alexandra, no! Stop!”
I turn around to find a familiar man standing there. Even the night can’t hide his perfect silver hair and hi
s Italian suit with the bright silk tie.
And I smile.
Because I remember him.
I remember him leading me out of that woman’s house and buckling my seat belt. I remember the pink teddy bear he stuffed in my hand before slamming the door. I remember the awkward hug he gave me when I begged him not to leave me at that group home.
“I knew you’d come. Still following me, huh, Luciano?”
“What the hell are you doing?” he yells, pacing while running a hand through that helmet of hair. “Climb back over that rail! Are you crazy?”
“That question is a little inappropriate considering the circumstances, don’t you think?” I roll my eyes and glance over at Angel to find her covering a giggle with her hand.
Luciano doesn’t find that as funny as we do, because he comes to a dead stop and glares at me. “Come on, kid. I’ve watched you grow up. I know you can’t swim.” Anger turns to panic as he comes closer, his hand outstretched. “You don’t want to do this. I helped you once, I can do it again.”
“I can’t stay here anymore. You know this is the way it has to be.” I motion between us. “This has to end with me. We both know if you keep knocking on the devil’s door, eventually, he’ll answer.”
I wish those words didn’t make his shoulders deflate like that. It makes me sad. I look down, then suddenly remember the envelope I’m holding against my chest. Pulling it away, I trace the name written on the front. This is how this was supposed to end. Our chapter closes here, and now we’re finally even.
Glancing over my shoulder, I toss it to him, watching as it lands by his feet. “You know what’s in there. You’ve always known it.”
“Alexandra…”
Everything is finished now, and the Romanov family is finally at peace. Tilting my chin, I catch Angel’s eye and smile. She understands. Twins always do. I hold out my hand, and she takes it, entwining our fingers together.
Our story is over.
