God of Pain (Legacy of Gods #2)(77)

My chest deflates from the overwhelming emotions I just unpacked in one go. It’s been a long time coming, considering his asphyxiating overprotectiveness. Slandering Creighton is the straw that broke the camel’s back.

At least Creigh trusted me to take this situation into my own hands. The same can’t be said about Jeremy. I doubt he would trust me to even breathe on my own.

His brows dip in blatant confusion, but his voice softens. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that I don’t trust your trusting nature, Anoushka. That trait attracts all sorts of predators and invites them to hurt you. The entire King family is cutthroat and brutal. If they were to use you as a pawn, you wouldn’t be able to survive.”

“I’ve been surviving just fine with them, Jer. Hell, I like them better than your own unhinged friends.”

“Will you still like them if they hurt you?”

“You see, that’s your problem. You believe that either everyone is out to hurt me or I’m too fickle to handle myself. I’m eighteen years old, you know, and yes, I might have been a bit immature before, but I’m not anymore. I realize there’s a whole world out there beyond the pretty little cage you and Papa built for me and I want that world, Jer. I want to live, make mistakes, and correct them on my own. I want to be alive.”

Jeremy’s hand clenches at his side, but he slowly relaxes it. “And all of that has to happen with Creighton?”

“Yeah.” I bite the corner of my lower lip. “I love him.”

“You can’t be sure about that this early in the relationship.”

“If I’m not with him, I think about him. Hell, I even think about him when he’s there. He makes me feel happy and appreciated. When I’m with him, I’m just Annika and not Miss Volkov who’s shackled by my family name and background. He’s the place I go to when I want to feel safe, so yes, I love him, and I’m damn sure about it.”

Jeremy tenses and I think he’ll go down his dictatorial road with this, but then he sighs. “Why did it have to be Creighton?”

“Why can it not be Creighton?”

“If he has to choose, he’ll go with his family.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I smile. “Creigh will always choose me. Just like I’ll always choose him.”

“You never know, Anoushka. All these rosy feelings you have for him might easily turn black.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Are you up to proving that?”

I lift my chin further. “What do you have in mind?”

“In the morning, we’ll go back home and you’ll tell Dad all about these emotions. If he does his research on Creighton and ends up accepting him, I’ll back off.”

I swallow.

Talking to Jeremy is one thing, but Papa is an entirely different beast.

“What?” He smirks, knowing exactly which cord he hit. “Cold feet?”

“Of course not. You’ll keep your word. If Papa agrees, you won’t intervene.”

“Cross my heart.” He continues smirking.

Because he knows full well that Papa’s approval is as impossible as seeing a unicorn.

But I have a secret weapon. Mom.

Seems like I’ll have to fight a whole other battle back where I hate it.

Where I was nothing more than a sheltered princess.

Home.





Home and I share a love-hate relationship.

I cherish all the memories I have with Mom, Papa, and Jeremy growing up, but I dislike it for how helpless and suppressed I felt.

However, the moment we drive into the vast property that Mom has somehow changed from a gothic mansion to a homey one, the only thing I’m hit with are those precious memories.

Like when Papa taught me how to ride a bike. I ended up falling and hitting my knee, so Jeremy blew on it and Mom cleaned the wound as I cried a river. Then I was up and running again as if nothing had happened.

Or when Papa let me ride on his shoulders and I wouldn’t stop grabbing onto his face and blocking his vision.

Or when Mom surprised Papa with a birthday party that he low-key hated because she invited all the guards.

It’s the little things, minor things, that might seem unimportant, but they’re what come to mind right now.

Maybe it’s a psychological trick I’m playing on myself so that I’m mentally prepared for the upcoming battle.

The car comes to a halt in front of the imposing building that I call home. This is where I was born and lived for seventeen years, shielded from the outside world.

I never had friends, definitely couldn’t invite anyone over or visit anyone else’s home—unless they were willing to have their house flipped upside down for a security check and enjoyed the company of my guards.

I was supposed to be homeschooled, but after I begged and implored and was kind of depressed for a while, Papa allowed me to attend a private school. After he bought it and planted his people everywhere.

That’s the type of person my father is. When it comes to our safety, no detail escapes him.

My brother steps out of the car and I open my door before the driver does, then I thank him with a smile.

“Jeremy!”

A tall middle-aged man gathers my brother in one of those side hugs men do and Jer grins. “Yan, how have you been?”