Deceitful Lies by Brook Wilder

 

Chapter 23

Paige

 

I still can’t sleep. I start the evening curled up against Andrei, content and secure in his arms. He also wants our baby and is trying hard to keep his promise to be a good father. The bed is cozy, and I feel loved, though he hasn’t said the word. He shares more with me now, but I’m keeping things from him.

 

Maybe it’s that little wedge—the little distance between us—that sometime in the night makes the bad dreams start again. Instead of Andrei’s arms, the cage surrounds me in my dreams, and I have to tell myself it’s not there before I go mad.

 

Afraid to fall back asleep, I get out of bed. It’s almost 3:00 a.m. I have hours to wait before the rest of the house is stirring. Pulling on my robe, I walk over to the window and look into the distance at the woods. Wondering if anyone else is up. Someone is always awake, watching to make sure we’re not murdered in our beds.

 

The thought sends a chill through me. How can I pretend this life is normal?

 

A flash of light appears outside, and I wait to see if it happens again. The garage illuminates for a second, and then it’s dark again. Who is out there? Getting back in bed and hiding under the covers seems like a good idea, but I don’t hide from trouble. I can’t.

 

The light comes on again, and two figures are by the garage door. There’s just enough light to see a man and a woman.

 

In seconds, I’m hurrying toward Emma’s room. The door is unlocked, and her bed is empty. It was never slept in. Shit. I told her not to try and leave the property. I told her there are worse people out there. I catch myself when I realize what I’ve said. Andrei said that to me once. When did I start believing him?

 

I disable the security code, exit from the terrace door, and hurry in the dark, dressed only in my nightgown and robe. The muggy heat slams into me, and I breathe heavily as I hurry toward the garage. I have to stop Emma from doing whatever she might be doing. Oh God, what if they’re having sex? I must stop my sister, even if she thinks I’m ruining her life.

 

Two sets of eyes widen when I swing the door open. Emma and Viktor are together in the garage, but it isn’t what I expected. Viktor sits on a stool with a nasty cut on his forehead. A first aid kit is on the table beside them, and Emma is dabbing alcohol on his wound. He quickly takes his hand off her waist as I shut the door behind me.

 

“What the hell is going on?”

 

Emma recovers first. “Nothing, Paige. What are you doing out of bed?”

 

Is she kidding me? She’s patching up a Bratva recruit and dares to give me attitude.

 

“I asked a question. What the hell is going on?” 

 

Emma is tight-lipped and ignores me, carefully dabbing the blood off Viktor’s furrowed forehead. It’s only then that I notice the state of his hands. His knuckles are swollen and raw with broken skin. His skin is red with his blood and someone else’s.

 

He’s been fighting …

 

But who?

 

I stare hard at Viktor, and he stares guiltily back at me. I square my shoulders and deepen my voice the way Andrei would when he wants something the other person doesn’t want to do. Viktor won’t dare disobey my authority as the pakhan’s wife.

 

“Answer me.”

 

“We snuck out to a party,” he mumbles.

 

I almost shout but catch myself. “What? Where? Are you crazy?”

 

Emma spins around and faces me. “We snuck out to a party, and there was a fight, Paige. It’s over. We’re home safe and sound. Okay?”

 

I don’t like the bratty look on her face. As if getting caught is my fault and not theirs. I fold my hands over my chest to keep myself from grabbing hold of Emma. She turns back toward Viktor, refusing to look either of us in the eye. Is she mad at him for telling?

 

“What party?” I demand coldly. “What happened? Why were people fighting?”

 

Emma rolls her eyes, and I’m about to lose my shit entirely when Viktor speaks, wisely diffusing a fight between siblings.

 

“Gleb Novikov,” he says.

 

Why does that sound familiar? I step toward him. “Who?”

 

“His bride was shot at his wedding.”

 

A chill settles on my neck despite the heat. I didn’t know the groom’s first name at the doomed wedding that brought me to Andrei in the first place. Of course. The Novikovs are private people, Andrei had told me when we first met.

 

“Some friend of his made a pass at Emma,” he explains. “He wouldn’t listen to no, so I stood up for her. A fight broke out, and soon, everyone was fighting. I got Emma out of there.” He meets my eyes with a gaze harder than my own. “It’s my job to protect her.”

 

“Are you out of your mind? You sneak her out to a party filled with Bratva?” I reply nastily. “And then you’re surprised there’s a fight? If you wanted to protect her, you would have kept her here at home.”

 

“Paige!” Emma tries to stop me, but I hold my hand up to silence her. I’m too angry to listen to whining, and I don’t care if she’s embarrassed.

 

“My sister is sixteen, and you’re corrupting her.” I stand over him as he sits on that stool. My face tightens into a scowl. “If I catch you doing anything with my sister again, I’ll send you off into those woods.”

 

I don’t know what I am saying or whether it is a threat. Maybe I’m curious to see how Viktor would react. His jaw twitches, and his mouth sets in a grim line. He looks up at me, silent and brooding, keeping his opinions to himself. Only then do I realize my hand is raised as if I meant to strike him. I lower my hand. Another memory fills my head, a memory that chased me out of my safe bed: Talia.

 

“Paige, stop.” Emma looks at me as if I’m a monster. “I made him take me. I kept asking him to go. It wasn’t his fault. I said I’d go out alone if he didn’t. He was only there to keep an eye on me. If it weren’t for Viktor, things would have been worse.”

 

I grab the first aid kit off the table and shove it into Viktor’s hands. “Go. Finish patching yourself up. I need to speak to my sister alone.”

 

Viktor takes the kit out of my hand and stalks out of the garage, gently closing the door. Emma watches him leave, his tall frame bent after being chewed out for something he’s probably not guilty of. But he’s responsible.

 

Emma’s gaze turns to me after the door closes. I expect to see a temper, but she’s close to tears. “Please don’t tell anyone, Paige,” she begs. “Viktor will get into a lot of trouble. He didn’t want to take me, but I told him I would go alone. I’m sorry. I didn’t know there would be a fight. We stood in a corner the whole time until that guy approached me.”

 

I want to pull her into my arms, but I can’t make her think it’s okay. And that every time she acts out, I’ll be swayed with tears and pleas.

 

“Emma, we have to be careful. We’re not like these people. They are killers and don’t forgive easily. It might seem glamorous, but this isn’t some Hollywood movie where the good guy wins just because he’s good. This is not a game.”

 

My words are sincere, but the cold look in Emma’s eyes tells me one thing. She thinks I’m full of shit.

 

“You’re such a hypocrite.” Her gaze takes me in from head to toe. “Your mob husband dresses you in designer clothes, wraps you in diamonds, and drives you around in a Lamborghini. But if I do one little thing I want, it’s wrong, and I’ve done something wicked.”

 

“That’s not it.”

 

“Isn’t it? Why do you think you’re better than me? That you can handle bad people? Do you think you’re one of them? Because you’re not, Paige. I know I’m not, but you’re about to get burned.”

 

I hold back my tears, despite how badly her words sting. “Emma, stay away from Viktor.”

 

She won’t speak to me. She bumps into the stool, her shoulders tense as she grabs it. Instead of catching it, she picks it up and tosses it across the floor before slamming the garage door behind her. For a moment, I’m worried about how she will get into the house. But the two of us aren’t exactly stealthy. The whole house probably heard us screaming at each other like alley cats in a death match.

 

I reconsider going after Emma to make sure she gets inside safely, but then I hear footsteps outside the door. I don’t know how to explain why I’m out here, and then it’s too late to think of an excuse.

 

Natasha strolls into the garage, her even gaze sweeping across the room, settling on the stool lying on its side. She looks at me in my nightgown and smirks. “Do you mind if I smoke, Paige Geraldovna?” she asks.

 

“No. But I’ll stand over here if you don’t mind.”

 

She lights up, and the flash of her lighter illuminates her stunning face. She grabs the stool off the floor and sits down. “I heard a commotion. Not trying to run away again, are you?”

 

My body tenses until she grins, and I realize too late she’s joking. “I couldn’t sleep, so I took a walk.”

 

“So, you came out to the garage in your slippers?” she asks.

 

My shoulders sag as I hold onto my arms. I don’t have a friend, and maybe that’s why I admit what I feel. “Things are starting to get hopelessly complicated.”

 

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Paige Geraldovna.” Her tone reveals her genuine concern. “I’m not your jailor anymore. You may not want to talk openly to me, but you should always speak to your husband. Don’t try to handle everything alone. He’s not as cold as we may imagine. If you’re having a crisis, tell him and avoid the disaster.”

 

I nod but say nothing else as I leave the garage.