Chapter 63
1458words
Roman watches me eagerly, waiting for me to choose. Finally, I decide on a random level that looks like a tree-filled park.
'Oh!" Roman laughs. 'Northwind Speedway! I'm really good at this one."
He's not boasting. Once the game starts, he loops me multiple times, winning every race. Even after he shows me all the buttons and some tricks, I still have no hope of beating him.
After my seventh loss in a row, Roman pats me on the back with a proud smile.
'It's okay, Camila," he says earnestly. 'Maybe now that we aren't going to be moving anymore, you can actually practice and get good enough to beat me."
'What do you mean we aren't going to be moving anymore?" I ask warily.
'Papa says that now that Mom is here, we can be a family again," he replies. 'Everything is going to get better because we're not going to be running from the bad man anymore."
Bad man ...
I don't have to ask. I know he means Asher.
'I'm so happy to have both of you here," he rattles on. 'I've always wanted to meet her. And you, of course! Isn't it great to have a family?"
Gripping the controller harder, I bite down on my tongue.
I had a family already. A wonderful one. Things were perfect until your father came along and destroyed them.
It's not rational to feel disdain for a child. But I can't help myself. The resentment I have toward Yannick pollutes this moment with Roman. If Roman didn't exist, Yannick would have no power over me or my mother.
He might even leave us alone.
But because of Roman, we're here … forced to endure a facade of playing house.
Roman beams cheerfully at me. 'I'm really glad you're here. I always wanted a big sister. Well, okay, I wanted a little sister because then I'd get to be a big brother. But you're still great!"
His naive honesty catches me off guard. Sapped of my misplaced anger, I let the controller fall from my hands. Roman picks it up, handing it back to me.
'Sorry," I say. 'I didn't mean to drop it."
'It's okay. Papa will buy me a new one if this one breaks."
'He really cares about you, doesn't he?"
'Yeah!" Roman's grin is as big as the moon. 'He's the best."
You have no clue what your father is really like, you stupid boy! It's surprising to me that Yannick has shielded his son from the horrible life he leads. Is it possible for someone so cruel to still be a good father? Or is he just a master at keeping people in the dark?
'Let's play another round," I say with a smile. The more I'm left to my own thoughts, the more I might resent my little brother. At least when we play, I can distract myself with the lights on the screen and the rumble of the controller in my hand.
'Okay!" He rocks from side to side on the floor excitedly like a puppy.
As we start a new race, I push aside my grim thoughts. I want to focus on Roman and this moment. Maybe it's because of that, or just because I'm getting used to the game, but I actually manage to keep up with Roman on the course. Our cars race side by side. I brake, turning sharply, and fly across the finish line to beat him.
'No way!" he yells. Scowling viciously, Roman hurls the controller across the room, where it bounces loudly off the wall, then skids over the floor. The sheer abruptness of his actions, his explosion of rage, leaves me reeling. The little vein on his red face throbs.
In that instant I have no doubt that he's Yannick's son.
He is capable of horrible things. I don't believe evil is genetic, and I'm sure Roman's behavior comes from the harsh world he's grown up in—absorbed even as Yannick has shielded him from the worst excesses of the Bratva. But in this moment, fear stabs at my heart.
Will this child be destined to grow into a horrific copy of his monstrous father?
A surge of nausea attacks my belly. Clutching my middle, I double over on the floor, groaning. My mouth tingles to warn me, but it's too late to do anything about it, and I vomit on the floor.
Roman gasps. 'Camila! Are you okay?" He comes closer, his anger replaced by panic and genuine worry.
No, this is bad. Swallowing down another wave of sickness, I search his face for some sign that he's figured out what's wrong with me. He doesn't know; he's too young to know. But if he tells … that could be enough of a clue for Yannick to sniff out the truth that I'm pregnant. And if he does …
'I'm okay," I assure him with a weak smile. Sweat makes my clothing cling to me. I want a bath—I want to get out of here.
'It's because of me, isn't it?" His chin trembles. 'It's because I yelled at you. I scared you and it made you sick."
I blink. 'Roman?—"
'Please don't tell Dad," he begs me. 'Please. I'm so sorry, Camila, I really am. I'll clean this up, I swear. Just don't tell Dad, okay?"
He thinks he's the reason I threw up? How can I be this lucky? Warily, I rest my hand on the little boy's shoulder.
'Of course not." I muster a wan smile at him. 'This can be our little secret. Between brother and sister. Deal?"
His own fear is what will save me from being discovered. But as soon as the thought crosses my mind, I feel shame washing over me at the thought that I have to exploit a child's fear to keep myself safe.
Roman's smile lights up his eyes. 'Deal!"
'Okay. I'll help you clean up this mess."
Nodding eagerly, he runs toward a closet and pulls out some paper towels. I watch him closely, trying to remind myself that seconds ago, he was a rage-filled creature, and now he's a sweet boy again. It's obvious that there are equal parts of my mother in him as there are of his monstrous father.
But the question is, as he gets older, which side will he grow up to embrace?
Later that night, I'm alone in the bedroom I'm supposed to share with my mother. But she's not there. I haven't seen her since Yannick yanked her to her feet at the dinner table. I have no idea where they are, but I know that her absence is nothing good. What is he doing to you, Mom? I worry frantically.
I walk silently to the door and press my ear against it, listening for hints of footsteps.
But all I hear is nothing.
Cracking the door open, I gaze out, but I'm too nervous to go further. Guards might see me, and then they might decide to lock me in. When I left the basement, I spared a look at the dining room and saw that it was empty.
That was hours ago. Are they in Yannick's bedroom?
Shuddering with raw disgust, I shut the door quietly and return to bed. Rolling onto my side, I hug my knees until I'm more curled than a snail's shell. My mind keeps throwing awful images at me, conjuring up things that Yannick might be doing to my mother. I could reach them if I tried. Guards or not, if I was quick, I could run past them. And then what would I do?
I've never felt so helpless.
That's when the tears start coming, slowly at first, and then faster and faster until rivers run down my cheeks.
I burrow into my pillow, but my mind continues to torture me with vivid pictures of the vile things Yannick is doing to my mom.
There's one person who could appear from the darkness, thrusting himself into the fray. Someone with enough strength and a drive for vengeance that would allow him to vanquish all my enemies and save both my mother and me from this living hell.
Asher ... please ...
Come save us.
That night, I dream that he does.
But it remains just that—a dream and nothing more.
